synopsis: sloppy, messy, drunk sex with your pro hero boyfriend cellophane. that’s it.
pairing: pro hero!hanta sero x fem!reader
word count: 1.8k
tags/warnings: soft dom!sero, praise, whiny, lazy sex, multiple orgasms, riding, sero eats his cum out of you, missionary, spitting, fingering, finger sucking, p in v
a/n: mmmffghhh....
divider cred: @chrisssiren
It’s all lewd.
The loud slapping of skin that echoes through your shared-bedroom makes the tips of your ears go hot with embarrassment. Sero’s large hands are wrapped around the soft skin of your waist, securing you in place as his hips snap up in a faulty rhythm, fast, punctuating thrusts followed up by lazy, slow ones as he forgets how to keep pace, fully absorbed by the sensation of your wet, gummy walls sucking him in.
You end up having to grip his chin to face you, biting your lip at the dopey, fucked-out smile that greets you in return, accompanied by a soft moan before you tell him to focus.
“Pace…Hanta..you want me to feel good too, yeah?” you coo at him.
You watch as he nods eagerly, steeling himself from merely chasing his own pleasure, spawned by the alcohol induced haze. It’s not long before he finds a middle ground between what he was doing before. Two ends of a spectrum joining together, and you curse at the way he just gets it. He gets it so right everytime—even if he does get carried away some. His fat cock pistons in and out of you, dragging back out slowly before snapping back in hard, moans and praises slipping from his lips every time his sensitive tip brushes up against that spot inside of you that makes you whine and clench around it.
“F-fuck…m’I doin’ it right, now..?” He slurs, partially cocky, the other part of him having half a mind still to know he’s not all there enough himself to be cooing at you like this.
You huff, amused by the way he’s still got jokes. You suppose it’s what drew you to him from the beginning though, so you couldn’t get annoyed really. You nod, making a show of the way you respond.
“Mhmm..! Hanta…aghh…feels so good..big dick stretching me out…”
“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” “Kiss me then.” He urges, looking at you straight before taking your lips to his, tongues slipping around each other’s as moans muffle into one noise. Sero’s hands slip down to cup your ass, squeezing the plush flesh of it as he whines into your kiss. A kiss, bittersweet with the taste of whiskey from his tongue and the fruity margaritas you indulged tonight. “You’re so sweet…” “Fucking unreal how perfect you are.” You’d almost thank him for the compliment if it wasn’t for the way your words became choked out moans and wimpy utterances of his name when his thrusts start to speed up. The feeling of his full balls slapping against the seam of your ass makes you toss your head back, the movement allowing him to kiss and suck on your neck, laving over hickeys he leaves down until he reaches your collarbone.
“So sexy…’can’t believe you're my girl,” he grunts, muffled by the way his mouth is latched on one of your nipples. His other hand reaches down between the two of you to rub at your clit, moaning louder against your sweaty skin as you cry out at his thrusts.
“Mmmpphh…cum..cum,” he groans.
Sero follows you in your orgasm, cumming ropes up into you when your soft hand finds one of his nipples, tweaking the sensitive nub between your fingers before you felt yourself about to cum, spurring him on with you.
“F-fuck…! Hanta..!” You cry, back arching in his lap as he keeps fucking his sticky cum up into you. He mumbles out incoherences; his eyebrows furrow with the whine he lets out, brought on by the sight of the space between you, hazy eyes falling on the creamy, white ring visible every time your bodies separate. “Sh-shit…” “Look at us, baby..’so fuckin’ sexy,”
Sero catches you when you fall into him, hissing at the way your pussy keeps clenching around him, length beginning to soften inside of you. His arms keep you upright, steady in his lap while he presses kisses over you—the top of your head, your temples, your nose, your cheeks, and finally, one to your lips. During it he’s picking you up, maneuvering the both of you to where you’re on your back, heavy, drowsy head hitting the pillows that are drenched in his scent, watching you giggle as he settles between your legs.
“Happy girl…” he coos. “You feelin’ good still?” He asks with a smirk, sliding his flaccid cock out of you. In response, you close your legs shyly, only to be met with a click of his tongue and a teasing “Uh uh,” before his hands are spreading you open again.
“Look at her…full of my cum..” “‘Can barely take it all, hm?” He tuts, chuckling at the way you tilt your face into the pillows out of embarrassment.
“Hmph. Don’t worry, I’ll make it stay in.” And suddenly one of his slender fingers slides inside of you, pushing his cum back in, all while a wicked grin plasters on his face as he watches you gasp loudly.
“You wanna take my load, yeah? ‘Pretty pussy can’t do it herself so m’helping her.”
“Wanna make you cum again too,” he whispers under his breath, traveling downwards so his face is level with your puffy, sensitive core.
You should’ve expected it. Sero was a nasty man; he lived for kinky shit like this. So his mouth being on you even after he shot his load inside shouldn’t have been surprising, shouldn’t have elicited your sharp gasp and moan of his name, adding more fuel to his flames of desire. He groans loud at the tug to his silky stands, how they lace around your nimble fingers, damp with sweat as you use him to get a grip of yourself, enough to look down at him. To meet his half-lidded, stupidly-smug eyes that make your stomach twist.
He winks at you. Just in time with how he slides in another one of his fingers, pressing them deep and curling them just right as his tongue flicks relentlessly over your needy clit before sucking hard at it, like he’s trying to will your orgasm out of you.
Sero loves it down here, moaning your name while spelling his out on you with his tongue, flattening it while the pads of his fingers deep in you rub with a constant pressure that has your eyes rolling back.
His cum and your slick combine and when he really processes what he’s doing he can’t help the way his hips start to rut up against the mattress, easing his fat dick back up.
“Ha-Hanta…Aghh..!” You cry, squeezing your eyes shut. “F-feels so good..! Y-your stubble tickles..” you mumble. He laughs, muffled by your core as he eggs you on to your climax.
“Mhm..? Mhm?”
“Y-yes..! Fuck!” You gush around his fingers and into his mouth, whining that the sensation of him eagerly lapping you up. “Mmffghh…’could eat this pussy forever..”
For a second, you think it’s over. Meaning the seconds he let you have to come down from your orgasm before he held your legs apart again, biting his lip before stroking his hard-again dick in front of you, getting off for a moment at your watching eyes.
Sero lets his dick rest on your slippery, wet pussy, giggling drunkenly to himself, overjoyed at the situation and about everything that already happened tonight.
“Hehehe…can I fuck you again? Please?” he asks, and the dumb smile on his face makes it impossible to say no, nevermind the way your pussy aches for more, pulsing at just the weight of his fat cock resting on it.
“Y-yes, Hanta..please,” you pant, breathless and needy. Sero picks up your legs, hands clutching at your thighs to wrap them around his waist.
“Fuckin—agh…hot..” he groans before just starting to drag his head along your folds, rubbing his fat tip on your clit, pushing into it to watch how your eyes roll back. “Mhm…”
He starts to grind his dick on your pussy, holding out and teasing the two of you, getting off on the restraint, whimpers falling from his lips.
“S-so wet…could almost just—ahhh…”
And he’s in, gliding his dick inside with a sigh of relief, starting to thrust. It takes him more than he would like to admit to himself to stop from cumming. It’s clear in the way his head tilts back and his jaw falls open, shameless moans spilling from his lips, deep and choked out through horny ramblings and his breaks to lick up the drool that seeps from his mouth.
“Yeah…yeah..you’re so perfect for me..look at those tits—sh-shit…” “Your mouth’s open like you want something…” “More cock? Drunk, dirty whore…s’okay, though…me too..”
When he manages, Sero fucks into you harder, ramming into your sweet spot again and again, losing himself in the way your slick walls suck him in. “M-made for me…”
“Open your mouth.” He grunts, slurred. His hand comes to grip your jaw, smirking as you listen, before a fat glob of spit lands on your tongue and you swallow immediately like a dog given a treat.
“Fuck yes…” “Do it again.”
This time, his spit dribbles slow out his mouth. Your eyes get to watch the way its string thins before reaching you.
“You like th-that..?” He stutters out. “Love anything from me in that mouth of yours, mm?” He follows up by shoving two of his own fingers into his mouth, slobbering on them before gliding them into yours.
“Mmmffgh..suck on them while I fuck you then.”
It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get close with the way you’ve been fucking. Hanta’s cock twitches inside you at the sight of you all pliant and wanton, how you try so hard to train your eyes back on him when they want to roll back so bad, how your spit dribbles out your mouth and coats his lengthy digits, how your hips begin to fuck back up into him.
“G-god…you—fuck! M’gonna fill you up again!”
“I know…I know..it’s so good..I love fucking my girl..wanna watch you gush on this cock again—fuck..please, baby..”
“Nnghh…! Agh..!”
“Y-yeah..shit! Shit…!”
You cry out at the way he fucks you through your orgasms, how you can feel his hot cum leak from his cock in ropes, dragging back out everytime he pulls back, mixing with your release in a sticky mess. He groans as you pulse around him, smaller hands grasping at his back.
“Oh-ohh…” you whimper, head tilting into the bedding.
Hanta leans down, panting hard before stilling. His lips press a sweet kiss against your temple in silent appreciation of you, for letting him do all that and for liking it too, for being his girl and calling him your man.
“Love you…” “‘Don’ wanna clean up…” he complains.
You laugh, hugging him tighter to you, melding your sweaty bodies together. “Love you, too.”
ⓘ Tip
If you feel unfulfilled by how you spent your time today, you can stay up late to try to combat the sense of dissatisfaction. This will ensure that you feel even worse tomorrow.
── sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs :: The heavens spoke of an increasingly notorious fighter, chained to his cell after every fierce battle in the Colosseum. After witnessing your first fight, you decide to pester him, breaking through the barriers of his bronze armour. (8k words)
── ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ :: MDNI, Gladiator!Sukuna, Messenger!Reader (based on the God, Hermes), ancient Rome AU, fem!reader, graphic depictions of violence and gore, blood, death, Zeus slander, I honestly don't know how the relationship progressed sorry, kissing, fingering, humping, piv sex, virgin Sukuna, dominant reader?
an :: mb this is all over the place but I tried researching and pacing this as best as my fried egg brain could T_T Please be cautious of all the warnings and do not read if you are sensitive to any of the content I have listed above
Throughout Heaven and Earth, you alone were the honoured one — a God flitting between the two realms with inhuman speed. You were the messenger, the guide of souls, the trickster with the wind caught between your feathers as you spread chaos as far as you could possibly manage.
It was curiosity that drew you to the Colosseum one day, smack bang in the centre of Rome. For once, no Gods quarrelled over petty issues, instead gossiping about the new star that graced earth.
He was a mortal, supposedly doomed to fall in battle after being captured after a life of crime. But the man had not lost a single battle yet, and the Heavens spoke of his unnatural strength between hushed whispers.
You simply had to check it out for yourself.
Like the fool Icarus who existed long before the height of the Roman empire, you fell through drifting clouds. They shrunk before your very eyes, until the mountains piercing the air and rivers cutting through the land grew closer. Not once did your feet touch the ground, the wings on your ankles fluttering as you weaved through the city you inevitably landed at.
Being spotted by the mortals was no issue. You would not be seen by those you had no intention of showing yourself to, allowing you to take in the stone and marble that stretched endlessly throughout the capital. The sun was bright, and you shielded your eyes — thousands of voices bleeding into one.
"Curse you, Sol," you muttered, heading inside the entrance to the Colosseum before you as heat beat down on your form. The wings on your head fluttered in what was agitation, disapproving of the sun God who drove his chariot across the sky. Couldn't he at least make it cooler?
But what quickly diverted your attention was the sound of weapons clashing against each other, sparks flying as metal struck metal. The arena stretched wide beneath you, sand darkened with blood as you snagged a free space — the view good enough to see the entire spectacle.
The crowd was thirsty for blood that noon, shaking in their seats as the two gladiators circled one another, weapons drawn.
"Gut him!" one screamed.
"Turn his intestines into a necklace!" someone else bellowed.
You grimaced at the not-so-savoury words of enthusiasm — humans were extremely odd.
You then cast a lazy eye over the fighters before perking up, seemingly having caught sight of the talk of the heavens above. One fighter was already severely injured, one eye having shut on itself. His blonde hair, darkened with black at the tips, was matted in blood.
The other fighter was a giant of a man, with hands probably bigger than the size of your entire head. His fattened pecs glistened with a sheen of sweat, and his muscles had clearly been sculpted with years of battle. Unnatural black markings painted parts of his body in black, contrasting with the dusty pink hue of his hair that stood in messy spikes.
You could feel his aura from your seat, hostile and confident — much like his stance. The fighter was adorned with polished bronze armour that was deliberately incomplete. One single shoulder guard was strapped to his left shoulder, catching the light as he circled his opponent. Leather bindings had been wrapped tightly around the mean bulk of his waist, arms and thighs, intentionally showing off the skin it did very little to protect.
And it didn't need to, because the gladiator was barely injured. A few nicks had drawn blood here and there, but the calculated look in his eye told you that he was unfazed. A short blade rested easily in one hand, the gladius resembling an extension of his very limbs.
And then Sukuna lunged.
His injured opponent had no time to react, lifting his sica in a poor attempt to defend himself. But he was exhausted, and his ragged breath cut through the dust and debris cloying the air. Naoya stumbled back, his arms forced wide as Sukuna struck again and again — leaving his guard way too open.
A fatal mistake, one that even the most inexperienced fighter would have recognised. Panic flashed through Naoya's eyes, his lips parting to let out a blood-curdling howl as Sukuna pounced — delivering the final blow.
The movement was almost lazy in its nature, cutting through layers of skin and muscle. Sukuna had driven his gladius into Naoya's ribs, and everything seemed to stop momentarily. The entire stadium held its breath, even you.
The blonde's heart gave up instantaneously. You leaned closer, and life flickered out of Naoya's eyes as his body collapsed onto the arena floor with a dull, resounding thud. The stadium erupted into a chorus of loud cheers, chanting words of praise at the victor. From your seat, you could see the tight line Sukuna's lips had formed. He took little pleasure in the killing.
He withdrew the blade without a second thought, stepping back from the pool of blood gathering by his sandal-clad feet. Barely sparing a glance at the unfortunate corpse, he was taken by the guards that emerged from under the Colosseum.
They were wary, as if Sukuna would pounce on them like he did with Naoya — but he didn't. He let them take his weapon, clasp the chains they brought around his body, and dragged his willing self beneath the arena floor.
And with a quiet flutter of your sets of wings, you dived into the pits and followed in record speed, eager to acquaint yourself before any of the other Gods could.
════════════════
It didn't take long to weave your way through the dark tunnels, the roar of the crowd above dwindling into nothing. By the time you had arrived at Sukuna's cell, he was already chained to his poor excuse of a bed — one without a single item resembling a pillow or blanket.
Even though you hadn't revealed yourself yet, it took you by surprise when he spoke.
"You have been following me for quite some time, little God. Are you not meant to reside in the heavens?"
"You… can see me?"
Sukuna nodded, hands clasped together as he remained seated on his bed. He didn't look up, which started you more than you had liked to admit. You pushed past it, intrigued — stepping forward and holding the bars of his cell. They didn't even bother to clean him up, to dress his wounds. "That I can."
"Rather odd. You can see Gods and you happen to be the talk of them also."
He looked up at that. "You talk about me?"
"When a mortal comes out of the gate swinging a weapon and hasn't lost a single battle since his capture, word gets around rather quickly," you chuckled, noting the way Sukuna carefully scrutinised you.
The look on his face was almost wary, having been face to face with a being not of his own. He took in the small wings at your ankles, the side of your head, and flimsy white tunic that seemed to billow out with the light cloak pinned to your shoulders. A brown satchel sat at your hip, filled with random ornaments you had gathered over your life.
A wry smile crossed his lips. "So the heavens gossip about me now," he murmured, eyes meeting yours. "I am… flattered, to say the least."
From this distance, you could see Sukuna much clearer — especially the scars that adorned his tanned skin. Some were fresh, others had healed into pale, jagged lines that were covered in dirt. An almost pitiful sight indeed, if not for the status of the man before you.
It was quiet for a moment, before a question flashed in the gladiator's mind. "I take it you have more of a reason to come here than to simply stare at me. Speak."
"You are ordering me around," you point out, eyes narrowing. "A God, if I must remind you."
Sukuna, whilst vaguely impressed, didn't show it. In fact, the corner of his lips twitched upwards by a fraction, enough so that a flicker of something akin to annoyance prickled under your skin. You wanted to annoy him, far worse than he was annoying you.
"I am."
The chains around his wrists and ankles jingled, and at that moment you had made up your mind about Sukuna. Your temperament was rather unstable, like the tides of the Tyrrhenian Sea — but ultimately you were approving of the fighter. His unwavering confidence was rather entertaining, and you were nought but a bored God.
"Well, if you must know — I was bored. That is all there is to it, and I was curious about who was the talk of the town, metaphorically speaking."
"And are you pleased by what you have seen?"
You nodded, leaning against the cell bars. "Very, actually. It is not often I get myself involved in the world of the mortals but I am glad I did for once."
Sukuna nodded back, the most thanks you'd get from him. Another beat of silence before he spoke up again.
"I assume you already know why I am locked up if you have been watching me for a while."
"Yes," you replied, eyes briefly drifting to the shackles that held Sukuna in place. "Thrown into this hellhole after a life of… crime."
The crime ranging from petty theft to murder, to be exact. Sukuna grunted and leaned back on his hands, muscles rippling with each movement. You didn't fight your appraisal, shameless as you studied his impressive physique. "They expect me to die one day."
"Will that happen? And if so, when?"
"Not any time soon. I am a fighter, and there has not been a match I have lost yet."
You smiled at that, the certainty in his voice. Of course, you could go check his fate for yourself, sneak around up in the clouds and listen in on the divine gossip that spreads between the Parcae. But you wanted to stay ignorant of the fighter's fate, content on chatting with him for now.
Until the heavens called for you, that is. Only you could feel it, a new haggle of souls you had to guide into the underworld — including Naoya, doomed for eternal damnation. Your face soured at that, not fond of having your conversation cut short.
"We shall see about that. For now, I must get going and return to my duties," you sighed, standing upright with your wings rearing to go.
"Ah. Does that mean you intend to return?"
Some shuffling as you readied yourself to leave, and then you looked over your shoulder. "Perhaps. I would rather not miss out on the opportunity to talk to you again before your time is done."
And with that, you were gone. Gone before Sukuna could even reply. There was no evidence that you had been there, yet he found himself looking forward to your presence once more, no matter how fleeting it may have been.
He chuckled to himself at that, not getting his hopes up — but the break had been nice. "Gods, how typical."
════════════════
As promised, you do visit Sukuna — even if it was days later. The sun was high in the air yet again due to that damned God, Sol. You had no time to curse him again, however, busy marvelling at how Sukuna was taking on a lion this time. You weren't one for animal cruelty, shielding your poor eyes from the sight of the fighter making quick work of his foe.
By the end of it, the lion's jaw had been ripped clean off. Again, Sukuna saw little to no satisfaction, hands bloody with another victim of fate.
The chains were around his limbs not long after, and he was taken back to his dingy cell.
You were there to bother him within a couple of seconds of the guards leaving, not that they were an issue in the first place.
"Your hands are cut all over."
"How insightful of you, little God," Sukuna muttered dryly, inspecting the deep gashes on his palms, a result of the mighty lion's jagged teeth. The wounds were still oozing blood, some of it having dried between his fingers — an uncomfortable sensation he was well accustomed to.
Your nose scrunched at the sight. Violence wasn't part of your every day life, and a large part of you pitied Sukuna. "I am afraid I cannot help you with your injuries. I do not heal."
"I do not need you to. Nor do I want your pity."
Your face dropped before straightening out. Then, you cleared your throat. "Apologies, I did not mean to come across that way."
Sukuna let out a low grunt, ignoring the way your tone had a slight lilt of amusement.
"Have you ever thought about breaking out of here? You look rather capable of doing so?" you mused aloud, but the gladiator was quick to embarrass you somewhat, standing up from his bed and coming up to the bars that held him hostage.
"I look capable? How so?"
Your eyes widened a fraction, and you had to tilt your head upwards somewhat to see Sukuna's entire face. Never one to back down, especially not to a mortal, you quickly rebutted with a grin. "Do not act so modest. You know what I am talking about."
"I am afraid I do not."
"Those big muscles of yours are not just for show," you remarked casually. Sukuna lifted a burly arm, flexed the taut muscle which made the veins snaking down its length pop out. Impressive indeed, but you weren't new to such sights, having spent many long days in the presence of Gods with physiques far more impressive than the fighter in front of you.
But for a mortal, he was fine, you supposed.
"You are correct. I could easily break out of here," Sukuna answered, hand coming up to firmly grasp the bar in front of him. It dented under his firm grip before he continued speaking. "But then what? I remain a fugitive my entire life? Settle in a foreign land where I have no home to go to? This is my home now."
Sukuna's words were spoken without an ounce of bitterness at his current situation. It was if he was stating a fact, one that he had long accepted. It made you frown as you took in the damp stone caging him in, the scent of blood that seemed to linger wherever you were in the Colosseum.
"You are incredibly practical. It is no wonder why the heavens praise you so often despite your past wrongdoings."
"An honour that is. Do you see me in the famed Elysium after my life ends?"
...
His question hung heavily between you — at least on your end. You shook your head, denying Sukuna the right to become aware of his own fate even though you were aware of it. "You are a remarkable hero, but.. I do not know. It is not my place to decide."
"I was merely curious, but no matter," Sukuna hummed, backing away before sitting down.
You weren't fond of the way the conversation had darkened, opting to clasp your hands together instead with a renewed smile on your face. "Enough of that. Would you like to hear some gossip?"
Sukuna gave you the ghost of a nod, thin eyebrow raised.
"Kronos ate his own children."
"How is that meant to be any more joyful than our previous conversation? And I was sure Kronos is from the Greeks, no?"
A chuckle left you at that. "Consider it a bit of humour on my part."
Sukuna only gave you a bewildered look at that, but at least wasn't one full of restrained woe at his potential demise.
With a resigned noise, Sukuna begrudgingly accepted the gossip you had to tell him. Something about how the son of Venus found Rome, how Jupiter fell in love with a river nymph who was turned into a cow by his wife, and by the time you were done with your tales — the gladiator's head was certainly spinning with all this newfound knowledge.
"You tell me that these were not just some maiden tales? These are all true?" He asked, hunched as he rubbed at his forehead.
"Of course. I am living proof, after all. My father is Jupiter— or Zeus, as the Greeks liked to call him," you stated casually checking a nail like your father wasn't the king of the Gods himself.
"I have heard about some of his… misdemeanours."
Screwing up your face, you shook your head. You knew damn well what Sukuna was talking about, and you weren't exactly proud to admit it. "Ones I would rather not acknowledge for the sake of both of our sanity."
For the first time since you had met him, Sukuna laughed audibly. It didn't sound forced and was rather guttural, like it had come from deep in that large chest of his. It was nice, even — rivalling Apollo's music itself. A bit of a stretch, but you were a woman of many vices, and indulging in the human world was one of them.
You made quick work of leaving after that, making an excuse that heaven was calling you yet again, in need of its mischievous guide to lead souls into the Underworld. In reality, you were rather ruffled at how much an insignificant bout of laughter had affected you — from a ruthless gladiator, at that.
"I shall see you after your next fight, I suppose. Duty calls."
"Safe journey, Fleetfoot."
════════════════
The two of you were aware of the growing familiarity that was building up after each visit. There was no doubt in your mind that after every fight of his, he'd come out victorious. The heavens grew more impressed by the day, and you were bewildered why at the end of all this, you'd be the one to send him to the Underworld rather than Elysium.
Sukuna's talents would go to vain, and whilst he wasn't of any sorts, why should he—
Ah, how ironic. You had answered your own question.
Sukuna wasn't a hero. He wasn't righteous by any means — so what made him deserving of an eternity of bliss? How tragic it all was, to be aware of a fate such as his.
Knowing his past made it all the worse — he was an unwanted child the moment he was conceived. Born as a result of a loveless marriage, cast aside the second he was able to fend for himself.
Now, his crimes were not forgivable, but you were unable to stop yourself from feeling just an ounce of sympathy for the gladiator once you took a peek at his origins. What other choice did he have but turn to a life of crime after that disastrous childhood?
A question many in the future would ask themselves.
Little by little, you came bearing gifts. Only small ones at first as you shirked your duties as Hermes. While you were unable to heal Sukuna to the fullest, you'd bring ambrosia when the injuries were particularly bad after a battle.
"You underestimate me, little God. I am perfectly capable of healing on my own," he'd grumble, eyeing the tiny vial suspiciously.
"Just drink it. It is like sex in a bottle."
Sukuna couldn't say no to that. He wasn't all too familiar with the act of intercourse, but he had his fair share of orgasms in the past. So he took the bottle and drank, head tipping as the amber liquid slid down his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed, a sight that was far too alluring for its own good.
Just like that, Sukuna expected a bottle whenever you were able to sneak one down.
Other times, you'd bring more gossip and pomegranates. It was your favourite fruit, and Sukuna's tongue had gotten used to the sweet yet tart flavour that coated his tongue.
"Never mind my father. Did you know pomegranates symbolize not only fertility, but life and death as well?"
Sukuna nodded thoughtfully, picking out the seeds from between his teeth before furrowing his brows at his thick fingers. "You tell me this why? Do you intend to bear my children or kill me?"
You laughed heartily at that. "Neither. I was simply introducing you to the world of poetry and symbolism."
"Right."
Despite his sceptical words, Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings. Every battle won was another moment of conversing with you and (one-sidedly) sharing wisdom.
Recently, however, your words of wisdom were beginning to grate at something within Sukuna. He wasn't one for divinity, but had slowly made you his sole exception. But you were beginning to remind him why he had a distaste for the higher ups in the first place.
════════════════
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," you coughed one late afternoon. Sukuna had just been placed in his cell after a particularly close call with another gladiator. He was almost on equal levels in terms of physique in comparison to Sukuna. In terms of speed, the scarred-lipped man had him beat, but Sukuna won in terms of brute strength.
It was a close call, though. Sukuna was currently nursing a broken fist, his earlobe hanging by a thread. And so then your preaching began, and with your preaching came a statement you were meant to withhold.
"Say it, Fleetfoot," Sukuna grunted, narrowing his eyes at you. "It is not like you at all to fumble over your words like that."
"All I was saying is that you will not live forever—"
"That I will be doomed to eternal damnation—"
"No," you snapped far too readily. But the words had already settled in Sukuna's mind. While previously he didn't care about whether he made it to Elysium or not, finding out from a slip of your tongue that he wouldn't make it there had awoken something in him. "I mean— I am sorry. I did not mean to say that."
"I am not mad at the fact that I will inevitably be sent there."
"Then what?"
"You treated me this entire time as if I was a charity case," Sukuna said simply. "With pity. I can handle myself, you know — without your fancy ambrosia or pomegranates."
"That was not my intention. If you took my actions as anything less than sincere friendship, I apologise for giving you that impression."
A large part of you, however, knew Sukuna was right. Your countless gifts were all just some futile attempt to sway fate, to make the gladiator's life less miserable. His life was less miserable indeed, but fate could not be changed — and you were a fool to believe otherwise, to believe that you could save the life of the fighter who you had grown to be fond of.
"I have no interest in discussing this any further."
And you couldn't anyway — not when a group of soldiers came your way. Hiding yourself out of sight, you stepped to the side with a look of resignation on your face.
"Ryomen," one soldier said mockingly. Sukuna didn't say a word, simply stood there like a caged animal. "You are losing your sanity, it seems, talking to the wall."
"That is none of your business," Sukuna hissed in reply, knuckles whitening around the metal bars. He could easily break out, but then again — where would he go? The soldier went on, mocking the gladiator.
"Indeed it is not, but soon you shall be out of our hands and into the one's of Pluto. I hear your next fight is with that cursed fiend Satoru. You know how he is like."
Even you did, and the revelation made your skin pale to the colour of your silk tunic. Satoru was notorious in the world of Rome — having spent most of his life in the pits of the Colosseum. Longer than Sukuna, even. They hadn't fought yet, intending to wipe out the weaker foes before initiating a battle made for the history books. Now that Toji was gone, Satoru was the only one left.
When the guards left, you reappeared, mouth opening to speak before Sukuna cut you off.
"Answer me this, little God. Do I die?"
You couldn't respond.
Sukuna was satisfied, sitting down on his bed before dismissing you. "I know everything I need to. I suppose this is the end of our encounters, until you lead me to where I am fated to be."
"I could— I could just delay your fate. I will speak to the Parcae—"
"No need. I do not want you losing sleep over what is inevitable. Thank you for your companionship over the last month or so, no matter how sincere it was or was not—"
"You are being dramatic," you said straightforwardly, rather turned off by the way Sukuna was speaking, as if all hope was lost. "I said I could delay your inevitable end, not cease it completely. It is rather foolish of you to give up so easily. That is not the gladiator I have come to know."
Sukuna stayed quiet at that, suddenly feeling rather foolish as he sat with his head hung low. Your speech had been a passionate one, a bucket of cold water over his head.
"Do we put this underworld business behind us? Will you let me help?"
"… fine. But I will not enjoy it."
════════════════
Nothing suddenly meant everything when the price for this battle was freedom. Sukuna didn't have to worry about being a fugitive with nowhere to run if the chance to be free was willingly placed right into his palms.
That was why he gave everything he got on the day — a day when the sun was at its peak and heat rained upon everyone like hell itself. Yet the arena summed to thrum with more energy and anticipation than it ever had before, with two famed fighters in the ring, about to fight to the bloody death.
The crowd gasped as Satoru threw down his weapon. As did Sukuna, and everyone was quick to come to the realisation that some fights didn't need weapons — mere fists were enough.
"Ready to lose, Ryomen?" Satoru crooned, eyes half-crazed. He stretched his lithe arms above his head, an almost feline-like quality about him. Honestly? You were terrified, but the couple of missing feathers at your ankles should have been enough to alleviate your fears.
A small price to pay to change fate, even if it meant waiting a millennium for your prowess as the messenger to be restored.
Sukuna didn't answer, Instead, the strings of fate tugged — and he pounced first, playing it dirty. Bronze clinked, and Satoru readily leaped back before he was struck. Sukuna's fists came flying as the strings in heaven controlled his every move without him consciously thinking about it. Each orchestrated blow, however, carried the raw strength of a man fighting for his survival.
Satoru dodged most of the hits, some of them occasionally pummelling into the sand and rock below. "I expected a challenge, Ryomen. Not some pitiful display of clumsy desperation."
The crowd jeered at the buff gladiator, making you look away. Your knee bounced with anxiety, lip chewed raw under your upper set of front teeth. Placing your complete trust in the Parcae and sacrificing a part of yourself may have been a foolish move, you quickly came to realise. But other hope was there?
A low growl left Sukuna, who was currently driven by sheer desperation as Satoru had pointed out. But there was nothing to be ashamed of when the chance to live was on the line. So he lunged forward, feinted to the right before swinging his knee upwards with full force at the white-haired male. Satoru twisted his torso back, hissing when Sukuna's knee missed its target of his stomach and drove into his waist instead.
"That is more like it, brute," he snarled, standing at full height once he had recovered from the blow. "Give it to me."
And so Sukuna did. The fight became a blur of frenzied movement and dust as fists flew, skin thudded against skin, and hits landed on its intended target. With a hand to your mouth, you watched it all, an invisible spectacle to the carnage that was occurring down below. How ready you were to intervene, yet the strings of fate kept you rooted to your seat high up on the Colosseum.
Bones shattered. Ribs splintered, and both men were doubled over, one after the other. Something jutted out of Sukuna's side, making bile rise up inside your throat. Satoru wasn't fairing any better — with a tooth or two missing and both eyes almost swollen shut. A clear disadvantage, if Sukuna managed to regain his wits.
"Please, Parcae. Do not stray from your word," you whispered, clutching your stomach as bouts of fear hit you. Satoru managed to stand up, stumbling on his bleeding legs. His strikes remained sharp and precise, relying on speed unlike Sukuna. The latter was currently doubled over, shielding his head from the worst of the attacks through gritted teeth. A joint popped loose, and a pained howl left your dearest gladiator.
And then a string plucked somewhere high above your heads. Sukuna had endured far too much to just take the hits. Time seemed to slow down as his fist shot out and clawed its way into Satoru's ankle, crushing through flesh and bone. He wasn't about to die in vain, causing Satoru to stumble over himself.
With a final roar loud enough to startle the stadium, Sukuna turned the tides. Flipping Satoru under him, he struck — struck deep enough to coat himself in his opponent's blood, which sprayed out of Satoru's chest and onto him. Even the crowd was either in utter awe or disgust, half holding back gags whilst the other half cheered for more. It was exactly the sort of battle they had been looking for.
And out came Satoru's heart through the open wound, beating until it eventually came to a standstill. Sukuna lifted it to his mouth slowly, to which you shrieked — voice inaudible to everyone but him.
"That is not necessary— Sukuna!"
He snapped out of it. Blinked at the heart he was unknowingly about to consume before just about stopping, blinked down at Satoru's lifeless body below him. Pain bloomed across his entire being, and he fell unconscious seconds later as the crowd erupted at the clear winner.
════════════════
Your duties never stopped. Aside from the Parcae, no one but you and Sukuna were aware of the meddling you had done to ensure his survival. You continued to fulfil your role as the messenger, sheepishly guiding Satoru's soul alongside many others into the depths of the Underworld.
Throughout it all, through many long weeks, Sukuna remained unconscious. Not in the cell he had spent his entire life living in, no. He stayed in some shaded cave you found in the wilderness outside Rome. He was relatively protected from the elements and the cliffs hiding him from wandering eyes, thankfully.
You snuck ambrosia whenever you could, easing it into his parted mouth in hopes that his injuries weren't too severe. Sukuna's breathing remained shallow at first, rattling between shattered ribs as the amber liquid slowly took its effect.
"That is disgusting," you murmured aloud, crouched on your knees as you watched the bones sticking out of his skin meld back into place. Whenever you could, you stayed by his side, painfully reminded by how close to death he had come.
But he did eventually come to one night, looking around the dark cave he was alone in. His armour was set neatly beside him, and a knee-length tunic was thrown haphazardly over his aching form. Sukuna sat up, groaning at the pain in his joints, but it was a miracle that he was even breathing in the first place, with no reminder of his last battle except for the new littering of scars on his body.
"Rest," you called out, startling the former gladiator as you entered the cave. "You need it."
"I won? Am I in…?"
You rolled your eyes at that, sitting beside the hunk of a man and shoving some pomegranates into his hand. "If you were in the Underworld, I would not be here."
"What a way to remain humble," Sukuna grunted, tearing apart the fruit with his bare hands. It stained his fingers, dripped onto his tunic like the blood—
You blinked hard, trying to rid your mind of such images as you listened to Sukuna eat with vigour. "Animal."
"Mmph," he replied, lips red. Of course he would be ravenous, not having eaten a proper meal in Gods knew how long. Pomegranates weren't enough, but wasn't about to complain if that was the best he could get in that moment.
Then something caught his eye. Your feathers, or more like the lack of. "Where are they?"
"The what?"
"On your head. The feathers," Sukuna asked around a mouthful of seeds. "They look incomplete."
"Oh, it is nothing," you lied, vividly remember the sparks of pain that hit you once the delicate things were plucked straight out of you. Sukuna wasn't buying it, gulping loudly like he usually did and lifting a hand to thumb through what was left. You shivered, withdrawing from the sensitivity.
Tch.
"Is this the compromise you spoke of before I fought?"
"Could be."
Another tut.
"Fool," he said in clear disapproval. "Calling me dramatic yet pulling a stunt like this. Did you hit your head too hard falling from heaven?"
"Mind your business," you retorted, busying yourself with a mouthful of fruit to avoid Sukuna's interrogation. It didn't work, and he only shot his hand out to cup your chin.
Turning your face towards his, he scowled. You continued to chew slowly, swallowing as he watched. "Do that again and I will ensure you guide me towards Hell by the end of it."
"What is up with us both being self-sacrificial? Can we not just both agree to stay alive or something?"
Sukuna let go of your chin and studied you long and hard. "Maybe that is out of our controls and up to a higher divinity out there. But for now, quiet. I need to think."
"Careful, now—"
THUD!
Sukuna straddled you, quite unsure what to do now that he was free and seemingly stuck with you out of all things. You were great company, and the feeling of your flesh finally against his, soft to the touch, was throwing him off. Never had he come across such emotions before, ones that swirled inside him like a storm yet calmed him all the same when you were around.
"You infuriate me, little God," Sukuna uttered, lowering his face closer to yours. Your wings, or what was left of them, ruffled wildly. Your eyes were wide. and he took great pleasure in seeing the confusion deep within them. "But I find myself quite fond of your presence. Tell me, oh Great Messenger. Why does that happen? Why do I feel this way?"
"I-I do not know—"
"Lies," he hissed. The odd feelings were building up to its crescendo, and Sukuna had no idea what he'd do next, especially with you looking so tantalising underneath hin, lips slick with the remnants of the fruit from before. "You know plenty more than this brute does, always frolicking about the joys of love and whimsy. Is this love? Tell me."
You shook your head from side to side adamantly. "How would I know? Look at me, I'm just a lowly, glorified pigeon—!"
A heavy tongue dragging across your chin cut your words off, making them melt into a shrill yelp. "You-you dog!"
Sukuna didn't respond, busy lapping up the pomegranate juice that had dribbled down your chin before. Maybe he was a dog, a useless mutt who only knew how to take, take, take. It wasn't like you minded, though. If you did, why did it seem like the small hands on his biceps were pulling him closer instead of pushing him away?
"You are taking it," he remarked, now dragging his hot tongue over your lips and, oh— tasting your saliva, so… sweet and… it was so you—
Your own tongue accidentally darted out, until you were licking back purposefully. You didn't know what was going on between you. Was it the Parcae yet again playing a cruel trick, lowering both of your guards until Sukuna was shoving your tunic away and groping at the fat of your breasts?
Or was it genuine desire coursing through you both as your lips smacked together, the two of you swapping saliva, gulping down each other's strangled noises with the pomegranates forgotten beside you?
You didn't care. Neither did Sukuna. How could he care when you were so receptive of his touch, which was usually so accustomed to violence and bloodshed and death. yet cradled your jaw so lovingly? Let it be the strings of fate, for they had brought you two together and defied all odds of a God and mortal doomed to suffer a fatal end.
"I… admittedly do not know where to go from here," Sukuna rasped, pulling away from your swollen lips with a pop. You lay a hand on his chest at that, intending to push him away — but Sukuna was having none of it.
"Nowhere. I do not know how we ended up in this position when you are freshly out of the clutches of death. You need to rest."
"I am fine," Sukuna rebutted, nipping at your ear before drawing it into his mouth. "That ambrosia worked its charm, but you have healed me far better than what that liquid had to offer."
Pfft.
You laughed at that, making the former gladiator pull away. You sat up halfway, leaning back on your elbows as you grew tired of the feeling of damp moss against your back. Sukuna tugged at your tunic, greedily wanting you to get closer. "Still. It does not feel right jumping your bones when you were this close to meeting Pluto."
You held up a hand, settling your index finger and thumb in a slightly parted pinching gesture. Extremely close indeed.
"I have handled far worse. Now pleasure me."
"You really need to work on your dirty talk," you sighed, letting Sukuna tug you onto his lap. A cold droplet of water fell from stalactites above, right onto your nose. You let out a soft noise, intending to wipe it away — but Sukuna beat you to it. The rough pad of his thumb met the point of your nose and rubbed it dry, his free arm around the small of your back.
"Then let me please you. I have a lot to make up for after everything you have done for me."
"It was not meant to be transactional, Sukuna. I did it because I cared—"
"And I am offering my body to you because I want to," Sukuna argued back, tugging you further onto his lap and jerking his hips forward. Even whilst being a virgin, his body seemed to instinctively know what it wanted— no, needed. You felt his fattened hardness as it prodded between your legs, under the tunic Sukuna desperately wanted to rip off of your body.
"In a cave?"
"No time like the present." Sukuna lowered his voice to a whisper, lips nudging against yours. They slotted against each other, and a set of slender fingers guided his wrist underneath your clothing. His fingers slid under the fabric made to resemble underwear, your legs parting so that he could reach your growing wetness. "Oh—"
"Not a word," you shivered, flustered at how aroused you had already become. Sukuna swallowed, digits clumsy as they fumbled around over the expanse of your pussy. You didn't mind, actually — it was rather endearing how Sukuna was learning how to make you tense up, what made your body react favourable.
He found that sliding his fingers high over an erect protrusion, just below where your pubic hair started, had you whimpering out the prettiest noises. You clutched at his bulky shoulders, suckled on his throat when the pleasure became too much. Sukuna was in awe at how the female body could react to such touches, his fingers now gliding over your clit in tight circles.
"You sing rather prettily for me," he chuckled, feeling you soak his fingers. The sweet talking slipped out from between his lips like it was nothing, leaving you rutting your hips down to seek more pleasure. "I did not know fleetfoot was such a minx."
"O-oh, hush," you gasped, shifting your hips so that Sukuna could penetrate you with his fingers inch by inch. "It has been a while since I have felt such— such pleasure."
Sukuna smiled gruffly at that, moving his fingers inside of you in time with each roll down of your lower half. "You do not know how to touch yourself? Is that what I am hearing?"
"As if you have the faintest idea of what sex is, Ryomen," you stammered, pushing him onto his back. His eyes widened as you stripped yourself of your clothing and tossed it aside. It unfortunately landed in a puddle, but you'd have to deal with that later.
Because as of that moment, you moved Sukuna's clothing to the side, took a long moment to fawn over how meaty his cock was, before squatting over him. "I have needed this for quite some time now. I hope you do not mind if I take what I need from you."
"You may," Sukuna choked out, sitting up halfway so that he had a clear view of what you were doing. You lowered yourself, enveloping his erect cock with the heat of your pussy lips around him. Up and down you glided, hips rolling in a nasty rhythm that had the man below you kicking out reflexively. "Tease."
"The one and only," you purred, all fears of injuring the man thoroughly fucked out of your mind as you used his cock to get both of you off. The two of you watched breathlessly as every so often, his plump tip caught against the rim of your entrance. But then you'd shift back, until he was wetly smooching at your clit instead.
The rhythm repeated, and Sukuna struggled not to choke around the build up saliva gathering in his mouth. He swallowed audibly, nails digging into the stone beneath him. You saw the movement — of course you did, and you grinned coyly.
"Touch me. I am letting you. I want you to."
Sukuna didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, one hand settled on your hip and guided your movements along his chubbed cock. The other found your breast, deft fingers toying at your pert nipples. A pitched sound left you, your back bowing into a beautiful arch that only pushed your chest further into Sukuna's wandering hand.
"Divine," Sukuna remarked, jaw clenching when a sudden tight sensation gripped his cock.
You had slipped him inside of your pussy at the praise he sent your way, hands now sliding up his firm pecs and around his neck. Your breasts pressed against Sukuna's, his nipples sensitive as they rubbed against yours. "Do you l-like this? Having a God take your virginity?"
"Yes, yes," Sukuna groaned, hips twitching upwards to meet yours. The heavens were quiet for once, deathly silent in fact, as you rode the former gladiator. Your pussy moulded well to the shape of his cock, each ridge of your walls getting used to the torturous veins throbbing inside of you. "Use me— please."
"You are so, so good for me," you whispered before gripping his jaw with one hand and mashing your lips against his. Each of his grunts were fucked out of him, greedily swallowed by you as your ass swivelled on top of him. The wet plaps of your bodies meeting echoed throughout the cave, leaving your ears red at the lewdness of it all.
Sukuna was all but melting. He didn't know your praise, your approval would unravel him in such a way — but his heaving balls were tightening not many thrusts in. You cooed at that, sensing the man's impending orgasm.
"Already, 'kuna? We have barely just started. I mean— cumming before me?"
Sukuna shuddered, lips set in a snarl as he tried holding back the cum soon to be gushing from his cock and into you. He forced you onto your back, hiking your legs onto his shoulders before taking control of the pace himself. He didn't want to come first — he couldn't before his saviour.
"Like that," you whispered, fingers finding your clit and rubbing. "Take it slow."
Sukuna nodded stiffly, sweat beading at his temple and dripping down onto your stomach as he fucked himself slowly inside of you. It was painfully slow, but what kind of man would Sukuna be if he focused on his own pleasure?
He may have killed many, but he wasn't an animal.
So in and out Sukuna thrusted, letting you feel each fat inch he had to offer. Your eyes fluttered shut, elongated sighs and murmurs of approval leaving you. He withdrew his hips until his cock head was the only bit inside you, before pushing it up to the hilt with a filthy squelch.
"I— Gods, forgive me," Sukuna shakily whispered, "but I cannot hold back."
With that, he pulled out all the way for a final time, before fucking his cock back inside you at a brutally fast pace — rivalling the combat speed of even Satoru.
Sukuna's balls were swinging now, a comical image had it not been for the sheer urgency he was rutting inside you with. He gripped the back of your knees tightly, panting in ways he had never panted before. Sukuna needed to cum, eyes screwing shut as your blissed-out cries met his ears. He was nearly there. So were you.
And by some miracle, you came first. A burst of wetness sprayed out of you, right onto Sukuna's quivering abdomen. Your fingers stilled, flying away from your clit to reach out for him — something, anything. The pleasure coursed throughout your body, making your vision flicker into white as your cunt clenched sporadically around Sukuna.
Triggering his orgasm.
His load was thick, potent as the sticky ropes shot out of him and into your greedy hole. You milked him for all that he was worth, twitching from the aftershocks and gasping at the sudden fullness that was filling you down below. "Apologies— fuck."
"N-nothing to apologise for," you blurted, whining as a burst of combined fluids escaped your pussy, your body unable to hold it all in. And with that, unconsciousness gripped you tightly, and the two of you became the talk of the Gods for aeons to come.
════════════════
"You took long enough, fleetfoot," Sukuna grunted, having waited an unnecessarily long amount of time before you came flitting in at his side.
"Apologies, my brutish ex-gladiator," you tittered, pecking Sukuna's cheek and enjoying the way he scowled at the former title he hated. With your hand meeting his, you tugged his soul along, parting from his physical form that lay wasted on the battlefield below.
Not even your feathers could hold back fate from the inevitable, but Sukuna felt as if he had lived a life worth living at last. And to that, he was happy to leave.
Good news though — Elysium was back on. With more meddling on your end — befitting for a God of trickery, you managed to talk it out with the higher ups. Sukuna was deemed a hero, and all's well that ends well.
"Well then," Sukuna sighed, looking at you. "Are you going to do your job as a guide and haul me up there?"
You nodded, squeezing his hand and travelling up for once instead of down. "Of course I will, but we have much more time now on ours hands, right?"
And so Elysium finally reached his grasp, and finally Sukuna, the old gladiator, had nothing to fight for anymore.
Changed the whole aesthetic of my blog. We on our fairy shit now girlies. ALSOOOO I FINALLY GOT A NEW LAPTOP so i can officially make the last part of my yuta story can finally put more than 10 images😭
Did i ever tell you guys im going to mcr if you rlly know me then you KNOWWW how deep that is to me. When i got the tickets i actually cried i felt like a 12 year old girl again.
No bc im gonna crash out PLSSS dont read if you dont wanna be spoiled for jjk (modulo)
WHYYYYY WHYY WHYYYY AND THE WAY ITS NOT EVEN CONFIRMED THE WAY WE DONT KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED. my king megumi </3 how do i mourn something we never got to see im SICKKKKKK TO MY STOMACH.
