5 times sukuna was heavily yearning + 1 time you finally noticed.
oblivious, lonely reader who’s used to doing things alone x downbad!sukuna. jealous!sukuna. gn!reader. reader wears glasses. uncle!sukuna. sukuna calls reader angel. he’s so down bad bro. ooc sukuna as usual. mentions of nsfw contents.
— ☆ —
1. movie nights.
you had a specific, detailed, high maintenance routine for watching movies. you had slowly perfected the process— a mental to do list popping up every time a new movie dropped that you needed to watch.
first, you needed to be in your designated ‘movie night pajamas’, the most comfortable you owned. your favorite blanket had to be there, along with your favorite pillow for support. you liked watching in your home more than cinemas, because you disliked the idea of not being able to pause the movie for whatever reason. who decided to make bathroom breaks that short, anyways?
for snacks, chips poured into your favorite bowl, your favorite niche flavor. a chocolate bar sat beside it just incase the movie got intense enough for you to crave it. your favorite drink was set beside them in a thermal cup, allowing you to drink it as slow as possible without it melting too quickly.
your phone had to be on dnd, blocking out every notification. the room had to be cold, and you avoided any distractions because pausing the movie on piracy websites meant three minutes of closing ads to turn it back on.
tonight, everything was perfect.
you were perfectly wrapped in your blanket, eyes wide as it watched the screen perfectly, chips tasting perfect, drink perfected, everything absolutely perfect—
bzzz.
you immediately groaned. who could possibly be showing up? you hadn’t ordered food. no one was invited over. it was late. what could possibly be urgent enough to prompt someone to ruin your little routine?
you paused the movie (which took three minutes of pressing ‘x’ on ads urging you to ‘text hot, single ladies in your area’, and ‘ai bots who can make you cum in three minutes!’), pushed the blanket off, and pulled the door open with a soft pout you didn’t even register, just to pause when you saw sukuna standing there, eyebrows furrowed, frowning.
you and sukuna weren’t that close, really. you were in the same friend group, but you always felt nervous around him. he was intimidating, scary, too cool for you. he always stared at you blankly, and you decided he was judging you for… everything. you were awkward, nervous, a little odd.
so, him showing up to your home at midnight was a little… nerve-wracking. his red eyes slowly scanned your comfortable, worn out pajamas, messy hair, tiny pout that faded as your eyes widened, before he blinked blankly. “sorry for showing up unannounced.”
he didn’t sound apologetic. at all. his tone was monotonous, almost unamused.
“can i come in?”
you slowly blinked, before realizing how dumb you must look. you grimaced internally, stepping aside, letting him in. immediately, his eyes landed on your little set up, and he arched an eyebrow. “movie night, huh? watching part two of your little movie series?”
“how did you know?” you mumbled, genuinely confused. much to your surprise, his lips twitched up in something that looked like admiration, amused, and it was the closest you ever got to see him smile.
holy fuck, he was so gorgeous it felt unfair. now that you were actually focusing on the man towering over you, dressed in a black shirt and gray sweatpants, tanned skin peaking from under his clothes, muscles on view—
“it’s your favorite series, and it just dropped. i can recognize the sketchy ass website because you hate netflix. you have your little movie night routine, pajamas, chips, and drink.” he murmured casually, nonchalantly, as if it was normal that the guy you thought disliked you knew this much about you. “i listen, you know.”
your jaw was slack, eyes wide. he only snorted, arching an eyebrow. “don’t tell me fucking gojo was right and you really think i hate you.”
you paused. “well…”
“are you serious?” sukuna scoffed. “you’re my fucking favorite in the group, dumbass.”
“what?” you mumbled back, more confused. “you always glare at me. you never talk to me. i was starting to think you didn’t even know my last name.”
he stared at you, almost as if you were insane, then sighed. “you really are oblivious, huh?”
“hey—“
he shook his head, still looking mildly amused. “here’s the notes suguru said he would drop by to give you and forgot. i know you like studying early.”
“oh. you didn’t have to—“
“i wanted to.” he immediately stated, face serious. “‘ll leave you to it, can’t have someone ruining your perfect night. goodnight.”
with that, he was out, leaving you even more flabbergasted.
what. the. fuck.
2. hangouts.
you were still getting used to the idea that sukuna told you that not only did he not hate you, but that you were his favorite in the group. to you, the idea was unbelievable. flabbergasting. maybe even a little more scarier than being hated by him for some reason, but you managed pretty well.
at least you were more comfortable hanging out with your group now.
however, you had a tiny little habit. you hated the coffee at the place your friends loved, so often, you just walked away to the place next to it to buy your own coffee. it provided you a break, making the little pit of your stomach that grows when having to be around people, even your best friends, for too long reset, and you just get a chance to catch your breath.
today wasn’t different. in the middle of the hangout, you grabbed your wallet and slipped out, enjoying the tiny walk in fresh air before you stepped into your favorite cafe.
the familiar barista immediately lit up at the sight of you, boredom fading from his face. he was your age, friendly with a cute grin that grew whenever you two chatted— something that made you feel at ease when ordering.
“my favorite customer,” he immediately greeted, grinning. the bell at the door chimed, and you both didn’t pay any mind to it. “i wonder what you will order this time.”
you snorted. you both knew you ordered the exact same thing every single time. “yeah, i wonder too.”
he chuckled, eyes flickering to the screen. you could feel a figure stopping behind you. “well, you know your total.”
you hummed, about to pay, when the familiar scent of sukuna’s signature perfume finally registered in your mind as he moved to step beside you, eyes narrowed, jaw slowly twitching. “make it two.”
you slowly glanced up. the barista looked up in surprise, before he nodded calmly. “of course.”
before you could register it, sukuna’s card was pressing against the machine, paying for you both. your jaw went slack for the second time this week, flabbergasted once more, but sukuna was already pulling you out of line so that the people behind you could pay.
and, more unfazed that he should be by his own actions, he casually held out the receipt. “here. you take the code and collect points on their app, right?”
“…how the fuck do you even know that?” you mumbled, utterly confused. “why are you here? how did you find me— did you even know what you ordered—“
“easy there, angel.” he murmured, calm. “you always carry the receipt and i see you type something from it on your phone often. ‘m here because the coffee in the other shop is ass. you always come here, so i figured i would try my coffee with you. i know what i ordered because i know your order.”
you openly gaped at him. he only reached over, grabbing both drinks, arching an eyebrow. “are you gonna gape at me forever or drink this sweet shit?”
“…did you just call me angel?”
his amusement immediately faded, ears turning red as he shoved your drink your way, looking away. “absolutely not. hallucinations. let’s go.”
that was what he chooses to deny? not that he knew your movie night in details? that he knew your exact drink? that he knew you secretly collected points from your favorite coffee shop?
you let out a tiny chuckle, amused, following behind him. that somehow managed to make his ears even more red, a scowl pulling on his pretty lips.
fuck. he was gorgeous, and adorable.
how horrible for you.
3. aquarium.
you laid face-down on shoko’s bed, face showed between the pillows, eyes shut in pure horror. “‘m so screwed.”
she sighed for the nth time from where she sat on the ground, studying. “you quite literally could not be more not screwed.”
“i have a crush on him, shoko. i never have crushes. and now i have one, on fucking sukuna. the guy once punched a guy for breathing ‘his’ air. he fucking hates people. i am so utterly fucked. he will kill me.”
she glanced up, as if she knew something you didn’t. “he won’t kill you. kiss you? maybe.”
“stop being delusional.” you mumbled, voice muffled as you buried your face into the sand further. “‘m so fucked.”
she sighed. “you’re delusional too if you don’t realize what’s happening. anyways, isn’t it the twenty seventh? your monthly aquarium night?”
you jumped up, gasping. “it is! fuck!” you quickly grabbed your phone to check the time, before opening the aquarium’s instagram page just in case there were any updates.
and, unfortunately, right there on their instagram story, posted twelve hours ago, was a simple statement.
‘couples only day!’
“oh, fuck my fucking life.” you mumbled, eyes on the story, shoulders drooping. “shoko, be my aquarium date.”
“couples only, huh? if only these weren’t the conditions,” she mused, almost flirty, before tilting her head.
“yes.”
“ask sukuna to go with you.”
you blinked once, twice, before pulling up your phone, nodding, serious. “good idea. ‘m asking gojo or geto.”
“that is quite literally not what i said.”
“you’re a genius.”
you sent off a quick text to geto and gojo, jumping off her bed to head to your own apartment to get ready. after dressing up all cute for the sake of your loved marine animals, you glanced down at your phone, where a vague text from gojo said he couldn’t, followed by maybe three million crying emojis (which was maybe because he had begged before to accompany you said no. aquariums were a single, you-only trip), and geto sent back a simple ‘he’s almost there’, and a thumbs up.
what kind of reply was that? you frowned, sending five questions marks, about to ask who the fuck ‘he’ was, when your doorbell rings.
you pulled the door open, and freeze when your eyes landed on the one and only sukuna. he glanced at you, eyes blank, and nodded once. “let’s go.”
“…where?”
he raised an eyebrow. “the aquarium. date night. let’s go.”
“…are you sure?” you immediately mumbled, voice uncharacteristically low. “‘m, uh, kind of enthusiastic about this. nerdy. geeky. um, annoying.”
his lips twitched up into an endeared smile that he immediately pushed back. “i know what ‘m getting into. let’s go.”
you grabbed your jacket, eyebrows furrowing. “suguru could have just said he couldn’t come. i’m sorry he sent you instead.”
“oh, he could come.” sukuna stated blankly, stepping into the elevator behind you. you glanced up at him, confused, and he stared back blankly, as if waiting for you to collect dots you didn’t even see. he only sighed after a few minutes, shaking his head. “this is both cute and infuriating. so, which stupid creature is your favorite?”
you expected a night with sukuna to be awkward. tense. uncomfortable. a night where you had to hold back so you don’t become labeled as talkative, or annoying, or too much.
you didn’t expect for him to be a good listener. nodding at whatever you said, asking questions at first to keep you talking until you were comfortable rambling. you didn’t expect him to hold your things so you could comfortably get closer to the glass, or stay longer at your favorite animals, or ask you about ones that seemed interesting, his eyes soft and lips twitching upwards just the slightest. you didn’t expect him to disappear at one point and come back with a few limited-edition items from the small gift shop either, dumping them in your arms wordlessly as you two were walking out.
“thank you for being my fake date for the night, kuna.” you mumbled as he was dropping you off, sleepy, eyes soft and voice slurred. he paused at your words, lips twitching into a frown before he eyed how sleepy you were and only sighed.
“of course, angel.” he muttered, reaching over and nonchalantly pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turned around, walking away. “…sleep well, goodnight.”
gaping at him seeming like a new routine, except this time, your sleepy eyes were set on his back as he left, almost getting distracted by his muscles showing through the fabric. oh, you were so, utterly fucked.
4. the beach.
you sat quietly on the sand, wrapped tightly in a towel, eyes ahead as you watched gojo, geto and shoko shoving each other in the water. choso was on a towel beside you, deeply asleep and snoring. toji was playing around with megumi and nobara and yuji, who was yapping about how his uncle dropped him off and disappeared. everyone was enjoying themselves.
you were freezing.
you had gotten there earlier, having known they would all show up too late. you liked swimming alone with no eyes on you, so with too much sunscreen, you stayed in the water under the sun in what you knew was the perfect time for you. by the time everyone else arrived, you were already drying in the shade.
oh, how you wished you had a dry towel—
a dry towel dropped into your lap before the thought even finished. you froze, glancing up at the sky, before immediately closing your eyes again and wishing for a million dollars just in case.
“don’t stare at the fucking sun.”
ah. your genie.
you peaked through your lashes at sukuna, who glared at you, a hand going to shade your eyes from the sun. he was dry, holding a small bag which you assumed was for his wallet and phone and car keys and towel, the sun kissing every spot on his perfect body, as if purposely teasing you.
fuck. how could someone be so pretty?
he sighed, pulling a cap out of the bag. he pushed it on top of your damp hair, shading your face, and slumped beside you. “switch towels. mine is dry.”
“hi.” you mumbled dumbly, blinking a few times to snap yourself from the daze seeing his beautiful red eyes in the sun put you through. his lips twitched, face softening, and he only pulled the cap down further. you finally remembered how to think. “don’t you need your towel dry?”
“‘m not going into the water this late.” he stated. his eyes flickered to choso asleep, and he rolled his eyes, standing back up. you watched shamelessly as he effortlessly pulled the heavy umbrella so it was covering the sun kissed stoner, sighing, voice lower. “that dumbass.”
“i spray him with sunscreen every two hours. flipped him once.” you mused, taking the chance of sukuna being distracted to switch towels, sighing in relief once the warm, dry, soft towel wrapped around you. “thank you, kuna.”
“don’t mention it.” he grunted, then frowned once he registered your words, “you rub sunscreen on him?”
“oh, no, it’s a spray.” you hummed, pulling it out. “isn’t it cool?”
he glanced at the spray bottle, shoulders slowly relaxing. “mhm. it is. can you spray me?”
you nodded, moving to stand up, immediately stumbling in the towel. firm fingers immediately steadied you, and you deeply hoped he couldn’t feel the warmth radiating off you from being flustered as he slowly let go.
you slowly sprayed him, the sunscreen leaving a shiny coat that made him look even more beautiful. after making sure every part of him was covered, you slowly sat back down. “try to rub it to make sure it’s even.”
he hummed, eyes shut, slowly spreading it out, spreading it out on his tan skin.
what a fucking sight, really. he was so, unbelievably gorgeous. you were so fucked.
“…you went early, huh?”
“…yeah.” you mumbled, eyes still on him, hoping he keeps his eyes closed.
“tell me next time. ‘ll go with you.” he sighed. “these idiots always come when it’s already too cold.”
you nodded slowly as he finally finished, slumping next to you on the little beach mat gojo had gotten, so close that his thigh was pretty to your covered figure. he frowned. “your lips are pale. still cold?”
you grimaced. “‘ll be okay. thank you for the towel—“
he sighed, an arm wrapping around your shoulder before he was pulling you towards him. you missed the way his body relaxed, lips twitching into a repressed grin, the face of a man finally achieving one of his long lost goals.
holy fuck. you were pressed to his side, his body oozing warmth. he smelled great, and you could feel his muscles every time he shifted. as you stared ahead, trying to pretend like you weren’t malfunctioning, your eyes landed on shoko, gojo and geto staring back at you guys from the water, jaws slack.
well. at least it wasn’t you this time.
5. studying.
as much as it seemed otherwise, studying with gojo actually helped you. you both kept each other in check— you stopped him whenever he started yapping, and he distracted you whenever you were spiraling. you both were a team when studying— having been one since the first semester, when you both met.
during breaks, however, was when you really liked studying with gojo. you both sat with thirteen expensive pastries in front of you, gojo’s treat, and he grinned excitedly. “oh, this will be so good. you go first.”
“you don’t have to tell me twice.” you mumbled, picking one up. you immediately moaned in delight, holding the rest to gojo, who reached over and took the rest from between your fingers. “fuck. this is so good.”
gojo let out an even louder moan. you both ignored the disgusted glares from the people around you, happily chewing. “oh, these are fucking godsent. thank you for being my taste buddy.”
“thank you,” you mumbled, grabbing another one. “you’re the one spoiling me with these. you’re, like, my dream man right now.”
gojo let out a loud laugh, before pausing, shivering in horror at whatever he imagined. “do not let sukuna hear you saying that. he’ll have my head.”
“why would he have your head for that?” you mumbled, mouthful, and distracted by the heavenly taste of these. you weren’t even a fan of pasteries, but these were on another level. you tried another, and immediately groaned. “fuck. try this one.”
you immediately extended your hand out to gojo. he, as usual, ate half of it off your fingers instead, and dramatically melted in his seat. “ten out of ten. perfect. stunning. i will marry whoever made these.” he swallowed, and quickly ate the rest off your fingers to. “and he will because he’s, like, in love with you.”
“you flipping liar.” you mumbled, unamused with the obvious fake news. “he doesn’t. he’s just a good friend.”
“he’s not a good friend,” gojo snorted. “he almost shoved my head into the toilet bowl yesterday because he was bored. he likes you.”
you did not believe him the slightest. “uh-huh. wanna try the red one?”
“yes, please.”
later that night, you were curled up in bed— going over everything you had studied earlier to lock the information into your mind. the groupchat was blowing up after choso was caught kissing someone (you already knew the news. choso blurted about his ‘secret’ crush to you before when he was high, and forgot.) and you just shot back a sticker laughing, said you were studying and you needed more caffeine to deal with this, and shut your phone off completely.
you really needed caffeine.
everytime you shut your eyes, all you can see is a cold, cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite shop. the condensation running down, the inviting taste, everything—
fuck. you needed one so bad. you frowned, turning your phone on to glance at the time, and paused when a notification stood out from between the ones on the groupchat.
sukuna: pick u up for coffee in five?
you stared at the message, then slowly glanced down at the sweatpants and oversized hoodie you were in, your hair messy, broken glasses on because you were too lazy to get these specific ones fixed and you lost the other, before sighing. you needed caffeine too bad to worry about how you looked in front of him right now.
you: please :c
a car honked downstairs a few minutes. you quickly grabbed your wallet and your half-dead phone, rushing downstairs, grabbing an oversized jacket on the way so you could tug it on top of your thick hoodie, grimacing at how much of a mess you looked. you slid into the passenger seat, and sukuna only stared at you, eyes slowly taking in your appearance, lips softly pulling up.
“don’t say anything.” you immediately mumbled. his smirk widened, but he didn’t speak, immediately resuming to drive, eyes ahead. “‘m so sleepy.”
“uh-huh. let’s get some caffeine in you.” he murmured, turning more serious. “don’t overwork yourself tonight. did you have dinner?”
you nodded, ignoring how your heart felt like it was twirling in your chest. “i did. ate and drank and slept well.”
he hummed. “good.”
in the coffee shop, he got the same as you, paying despite your complaints. once the drinks were out, he grabbed both, wrapping yours in tissues to keep your fingers from being cold before handing it over, humming.
you were looking over notes in your phone, too tired to register his actions. you only quietly took the cup, immediately sipping, shoulders slowly rolling down, tense muscles relaxing. “thank you, kuna.”
he clicked his tongue. “don’t mention it.”
in the car, you focused on sipping the coffee, and he cleared his throat. “gojo said you two were on a study date this morning. pastries and shit. said you called him your dream man.”
you snorted. sukuna glanced over, utterly unamused, almost pouting. “i love gojo.”
his lips immediately formed a scowl. “you love him?”
“not like that,” you snorted. “he’s just… he was the first person who was nice to me in university, you know. the first person who made sure i never felt like a burden. he means a lot to me, platonically.”
he was silent for a while, then nodded, pulling up in front of your building. “good. you deserve to never feel like a burden. you… mean a lot to me.”
was he trying to kill you? you immediately shuffled out, heart beating like it was trying to escape your chest, cheeks burning. “you mean a lot to me too, kuna. um, goodnight. thank you for picking me up.”
“don’t mention it, angel.”
+1.
against your will, you were dragged to a party.
you would have been enthusiastic, really, if finals hadn’t just ended— leaving you too sleep deprived that you couldn’t even walk straight. gojo had came over to force you out and picked your outfit out for you, keeping in mind your pleads for it to be something warm, and you ended up in the passenger seat of his car, asleep soundly, vaguely aware of his whining about you needing to be awake as he drove you there.
you could only remember little snippets between your tiny naps, really.
gojo having his arm around you as he dragged you in.
you slumping down beside choso, immediately falling asleep on his shoulder.
sukuna crouching down in front of you, concerned, eyes worried.
sukuna covering you with a blanket.
sukuna sitting beside you, pulling your head into his shoulder instead.
geto replacing choso. you shifting, head falling into his shoulder because he was warmer.
sukuna immediately pulling you back towards him, an arm falling around your waist to keep you close, bickering with geto.
after that, you drifted into deep sleep— the kind that only came after a week straight of pulling all nighters. and, when you woke up again, you were wrapped in a blanket, on the roof, on a tiny couch with your head on sukuna’s lap and a cigarette between his lips.
the second he registered you awake, he pushed the cigarette into the ashtray, eyes soft, fingers on your shoulders to help you sit up. “you okay, angel?”
“mhm. sleepy.” you mumbled, blinking slowly, still half asleep. you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “thank you for watching over me, kuna. you’re, like, my angel.”
“…don’t mention it.” he whispered— although, it sounded more like a pained whimper. “i… yeah. don’t mention it.”
it was silent for a few minutes. you both stared up at the sky, lost in thought, before sukuna cleared his throat.
“…the stars are pretty.”
“mhm.”
he paused, before speaking again. his voice was low, soft, but it was laced with quiet frustration that you could tell wasn’t pointed at you. “we’re, uh, done with the semester.”
“…mhm.”
he clicked his tongue, and sat up, like he’s restarting. “…we’re good friends.”
“we are.” you mumbled, still dazed from your delicious, needed nap. he let out a small groan, face buried into his palm.
“fuck.”
“…kuna?” you murmured, voice soft, sleepy. his eyes finally flickered up, frustrated and almost disappointed in himself, and you only gave him a small, sleepy smile. “i like you too.”
and finally, it was his turn for his jaw to go slack, eyes widening, before he turned to you quickly. “you’re not fucking with me, right? you like me?”
you nodded, sleepy, but focused. “i like you.”
he didn’t hesitate before dropping to his knees in front of you, eyes soft and almost pathetic. “say that again. please.”
“i like you, kuna.” you repeated, quieter, softer, more serious.
he let his head drop, face pressed against the blanket covering your thighs briefly, voice muffled when he spoke. “…you have no idea how many years i have been dying to hear this, angel. fuck.” when he lifted his head back up, his red eyes were almost glossy. “‘m marrying the fuck out of you one day.”
that managed a sleepy laugh out of you. “take me on a date first, at least. we haven’t even kissed yet.”
his eyes lit up at the mere thought— before you watched him visibly holding himself back, trying to appear more relaxed, probably to not scare you off, despite his reddening ears at the idea. “right. dates. i will date you so fucking good, i promise, you will never think of anyone but me again. not even that stupid barista who clearly wants you so bad. only me.” he nodded, serious, scowling, before his eyes softened again. “best dates of your life. where do you want to go? dinner? coffee? aquarium? your little movie night routine at my place? do you want me to make it a surprise? i will be the best boyfriend— wait, fuck, not that yet—“
you reached over, softly pressing your lips to his,
he froze, eyes probably wide, then immediately melted the second your fingers gently cupped his face to pull him closer, letting out a soft, little sound into the kiss that had his face flushing further.
once you pulled away, your eyes met his dazed ones, and he slowly sucked in a deep breath. “….fuck.”
“dinner sounds good.” you whispered back, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, and he shut his eyes, as if it took visible effort not to groan. “next week?”
“you think ‘ll make it to next week?” he let out a sharp laugh. “you have me fucking kneeling for you, angel. tomorrow. 8. please.”
“okay.” you murmured, voice soft. “now, come back up, i will want to continue napping on you.”
summary. with the football team reveling in their victory after the homecoming game, you hadn’t expected the quarterback to set his sights on you, the university mascot. but you’ve got one rule to abide by—the helmet stays on, no matter what.
warnings. NSFW/MDNI, americanfootball!au, explicit smut, panty chewing, panties used as a gag, piv, fingering, degradation and insulting, slight angst, hurt/mild comfort, mention of sukuna's unlabelled sexual orientation, sukuna has a bush.
a/n. hello hello! if this oneshot looks familiar, that is because it is a repost from my old account that has been requested (hi @indiewritesxoxo and @suguphile) and i am too lazy when it comes to aesthetics to come up with something new. anyway it is for my baby ivy's college common's collab <3 go check her out, she's got some SHAKESPERIAN fics @junuru AND A BIG THANK YOU TO @macbethinchains for helping me write some of the plot points :’) i love you sorry i am hollow-brained…😭
art by su2kuna on X, banner's by @/bernardsbendystraws & @/cafekitsune
“Y-You don’t even know if I’m a guy or girl,” you point out, voice warbly and whiny, clammy fists clenching around rubber in twitching paws as you wonder how you’d managed to get yourself in this situation, metaphorically and literally backed into a corner.
Sukuna cranes his head with feigned introspection, gazing off in the distance with a look in his eyes that tells you he finds all of this… amusing, slowly stalking towards you with mirth swirling in his carmine irises. “Gonna be real honest, Squeaky. I don’t really care.”
Your breath catches, loud and sharp and all-too-humiliating, before the backs of your knees hit his mattress and you fall right on your ass and onto his bed.
Right where he wants you.
He inspects you down the slope of his nose with a smirk, as if he enjoys watching you struggle to hold onto your logic that’s slipping between your fingers like crumbling sand.
He knows you want this, he’s just giving you a bit of well-placed courage.
But you’re far too busy thinking about your duty, the one you’d sworn yourself into just a month ago…
“Repeat after me. I solemnly swear…”
“...I solemnly swear.”
“On behalf of the Sciuridae rodent family…”
“...Uh. On behalf of the Sciuridae rodent family.”
“To uphold the values of benevolence, charity, and secrecy…”
“...To uphold the values of benevolence, charity, and secrecy.”
“And keep my identity as the university's Squeaky the Squirrel mascot unvoiced and unseen.”
“And keep my identity as the university's Squeaky the Squirrel mascot unvoiced and unseen.”
The spirit coordinator smiles at your echoed words, wide and toothy like the head piece in your grasp, tugging her clipboard against her chest with such elation like she’d just christened a knight into leadership. “Perfect! You may now put the mascot head on and fulfill your well-earned role.”
You lift it, hands clasping the furry pelt fabric and resting it atop your head. There was a faint scent of musk and sweat, most likely from your predecessors whose identities you’d never come to know, your nose scrunching in mild horror.
But you couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through your veins at the new position you were privy to, exactly what you’d been working towards all summer and drilling down routines to impress the sports board.
And from then on, it only grew. You were quick to learn that rallying the crowd during football season was your forte.
“UPSIDE DOWN. INSIDE OUT. YOUR TEAM IS GOING DOWN.”
“YOUUUUU CAN’TTTT DOOOO THATTTTT.”
“FIRE IT UP, TAKE CONTROL. DOMINATION? THAT’S OUR GOAL.”
The football coach commended you for your ability to get people booming, the student section practically deafening when you made your way out in a dazzling appearance. And during half-time? You were absolute gold.
You’d stir up the crowd to hone in on the cheerleader’s routine, shooting branded t-shirts through a cannon at the crowd and doing laps up and down the field until sweat clung to you like a sticky second skin and you could barely catch your breath.
You’d be perched just below the stands in your Squeaky the Squirrel mascot suit—landing splits and turns and flips galore to get the crowd thundering. You spun the audience with the Mexican wave, flickers of black and crimson soaring through the bleachers as they released their war cries laced with pride. It was such a high.
A little bit of a modern day jester, but it was your flair.
Though, you swiftly learned what your favorite part of each game and rehearsal was.
MVP, star Quarterback, near seven-foot-something, knockout and hulking Ryomen Sukuna.
Silly as it was, the mascot crushing on the football player when he was practically saved for one of the cheerleaders, tiers out of your league. You couldn’t ignore the way his hand would linger on their waists whenever they’d come over to congratulate him after a touchdown, dragging their pompoms down his heaving chest with a lustful expression.
It was easy, safe, where you stood. Tucked away in a corner by the stands. Your gawking concealed by buck teeth and identity completely veiled.
Sukuna was just eye candy. Something you were content with long ago.
That was, until he started paying far too much attention to you during games and practices. It was like it happened out of nowhere—the burly man popping up to slip a sly comment into your fur-ear until it downturned and you’d stare at him dead in the eyes with your beady squirrel irises.
And now, post homecoming game, you’d been told he was waiting for you at his frat house with something to tell you.
The “something” being how he wanted to bang you, for a lack of better wording.
You stare down at your pelt suit, fur sticking out all wild from the way you’d been sprinting down the football field all evening.
You worry your lower lip between your teeth before peering up, your vision obscured thanks to the head piece you’ve been adorning this entire time.
“...On one condition.”
Sukuna cocks an eyebrow, arms crossed over the expanse of his chest. “What, brat?”
You swallow thickly. “The helmet stays on.”
His claret eyes narrow, a few contemplative moments hang between the two of you before he breaks the stifling silence. “I’m sorry. What?”
You nod curtly, clasping your hands in your lap. “Gonna be really honest here, Sukuna. I know who you are and I know the rep you carry. You can get anyone you want. I’ve got no clue why you wanna fuck the mascot, but under no circumstances can I expose my identity.”
His eyebrows furrow, something you can’t quite decipher swirling in his mind. Anger, irritation, confusion? Is he going to kick you out after wooing you the entire week with pointed comments and lingering touches that had your body set alight, snuffing out the flame he kindled?
His lips part, before he drops his hands and stares off somewhere with a scoff, fists shoved into his pockets. “Alright, fine. You’re real fucking weird.”
Moments later, he’s chewing on your panties with a sly grin, digging bruises into your thighs as he plays with your pussy with wonder.
You place a paw hand over your face, a flit of whimpers leaving your lips, thinking about how he’d managed to unzip you out of your costume and toss it aside with deft fingers that left your core damp.
He slips a finger into your throbbing hole, the taste of your juices already known on his tongue as the lacy fabric drags against his teeth. “So, not a guy,” he chuckles through bites like your undies are coca leaves.
You shake your head, hoping his frat brother’s can’t hear him fingering you while they let loose after a victory game just downstairs. “Nope. Just a, hck- girl!”
And if it couldn’t get more embarrassing, a squeak tumbles from your lips.
Something rattles in your gut as he lets out a chuckle, far too amused at how flustered and pliant you are in his hands. “You sure about that? Could’ve sworn I heard a squirrel.”
You frown, adjusting your head piece as you push up onto your elbows. “Are you admitting t-to fucking squirrels?”
His smile falters, before he presses two fingers inside and brushes against that spongy spot that has you tossing your head back with a groan. “Someone’s mouthy. How about we fix that?” He grunts between a clenched jaw.
Right as he’s teetering you on the edge of sweet pleasure, he pulls his fingers out, getting to his feet to tower over you. He takes your panties from his lips and places them in your hands.
With teary eyes, you gawk up at him, furrowing your brows, and though he can’t see your expression, he knows how bewildered you are. “In your mouth,” he clarifies with a scoff, before turning his back and crossing his corded arms.
Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, an incredulous laugh following to fill the chest of silence. “You want me to eat my panties?”
“No, dumbfuck. Put it in your mouth and keep those piggy squeals to yourself.”
You swallow the lump in your throat along with your pride, slowly obliging and taking your helmet off. You set it off to the side, eyes carefully trained on him to make sure he doesn’t nab a sneak peek past his shoulders at your identity.
But, he keeps to his word, as much as you hadn’t expected it. It soothes your worry of him doing this entire thing just to figure out who you are, something previously buzzing in your mind settling down.
You stuff your panties into your mouth, the rough fringe catching on your teeth, before you put the helmet back on, completely unbeknownst to the shit-eating grin coloring Sukuna staring at his bedroom door.
You try to tell him to turn around, but instead it comes out all muffled and weird. Thankfully, he gets the idea and faces you.
His eyes trace over your naked form splayed on his bed—perky tits, the slope of your waist, your dripping heat. He licks his lips, hands finding the bottom of his muscle tee and tugging it over his head before tossing it to the ground.
He wants to pin you like a fucking flower to his bed.
You’re really glad you’re still wearing the helmet, because God so help you if he saw the dumbfounded expression you were sporting.
He toys with the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down with his boxers and leaning over to his nigthstand. He tugs out a condom, tearing the latex free with his teeth and rolls it down his length. He spits on it, pumping it a few times, before plopping down next to you. “Cmere,” he motions, eyeing his lap before leaning back on his elbows.
You steel your nerves, hands trembling as you try to stop your ogling from his carved-from-stone physique, clambering into his lap, trying not to gush at just how massive he was.
“Someone's skirmish,” he slyly comments at your clumsiness, textured hands finding purchase on your hips and splaying over the flesh.
He chuckles tauntingly as you mumble something out.
You rest your palms on his shoulders, woefully clammy, but if he feels anything he doesn’t make a comment on them. Besides, you’re far too focused on the cock he’s about to spear you with. The guy is so well-endowed, and though you expected it, it still has your stomach doing hurdles.
He aligns his rubbered tip with your entrance, swollen cockhead pressing against your clenching hole, before you allow yourself to sink down and suck him in.
A muffled curse leaves you, thighs quaking as you swallow him inch by inch, the stretch unbearable.
“Breathe, girl,” he coaxes with a frown like he’s talking to a stable horse, glancing at where your bodies are connected before meeting the beady eyes of the helmet. “Gonna take this helmet right off if you don’t take it easy.”
A whine leaves you, your body stilling as you adjust to his girth, and soon enough the pain seizes to pleasure, stings subsiding into sensuality.
“Thereeee you go,” he praises, lips twitching as he pats the top of your head piece. “Good, Squeaky.”
You ignore his jabs, letting yourself bury his cock into you to the hilt, before moving your hips in a figure eight motion. The grinds have Sukuna biting his tongue, not even needing to say anything to have him flushing.
“Fuck, if I don’t figure out who you are, I’m gonna need to fuck half the campus to feel this pussy again,” he breathes out, back hunching and laying his head onto your shoulder. You’re not quite sure if he’s aware of how much he’s babbling out loud, voice echoing off of his bedroom walls.
Something in your gut flutters, quickly yelped out of you as he presses his soles into the hardwood floors and starts bucking his cock up into you, his leaking slit nudging your cervix.
“Been holdin’ out on me,” he snaps out, digging his teeth into your collarbone, suckling on the skin, disheveled pink hair tickling your heated skin.
You practically gag, desperate for respite when he flips the two of you over in a manner that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs. One hand of his pins both of your wrists above your head before he starts pistoning into you.
The sound of his headboard rattling against his, albeit thick, walls have got to have gone noticed by at least someone in the frat house, but the two of you are too horned up to give a rat’s shit.
“You’re really taking it, peanut,” he grunts, tossing his head back while the feel of his rough bush dragging against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you dancing on the edge of reality and fantasy. “Like a good little rodent.”
And at this point, you’re not quite sure if he’s teasing you or genuinely spurred on by this.
Your eyes, glossed over with eroticism, tip to the back of your skull as your hips take on a sentient mind of their own and cant against his pelvis, drool dribbling from the seams of your lips and staining your underwear absorbed with both of your saliva. The veins lining his dick drag against all the right spots that have you keening and stomach coiling.
You’d probably be crying out his name by now, but all that comes out is squeals and whimpers, music to his red-tinged ears.
“Pretty d-damn sure I could live in here, you minx,” he sighs out, bringing a thumb down to sharply toy with your clit and it’s enough to push you over the edge.
You scream out, violent and torn, your slick juices coating across his shaft, lightening shooting down your back and clearing out your vision in dots of white and black.
He follows soon after, nesting himself deep into the apex of your thighs with sloshing sounds, eyes gawking wide as seed fills the latex covering his cock. He stills for a moment, before collapsing onto you and digging his reddened face into the crook of your neck.
The two of you lay there, catching your breath in a sweaty and pathetic heat, before he grumbles into your skin. “Do you wanna try it raw?”
You roll your eyes, pressing your palms onto his shoulders and peeling him from you. The inside of the mascot head piece is a foggy sweltering atmosphere, making you spit out your panties and hop to your feet.
He watches you from his mattress as you scramble across his room, gathering your things, before the door to his bedroom suddenly pushes open.
You gasp, hurrying to cover yourself as a familiar white haired menace stares rubbernecked at you like he just spotted roadkill. And when you think it couldn’t get any worse, a smile creeps on his lips.
“Yo, Fushiguro! Looks like Ryo followed through and you owe me ¥7000,” Gojo chuckles, dodging a pillow Sukuna chucks at him before tugging the door shut and sprinting down the hall.
You turn to face the pink-haired brute who's too busy avoiding your beading glare.
“Uh. Mind explaining what that’s about?” You start, opting to tug your leggings on commando since your panties are a torn and sopping mess.
“Nothin’. Fucking Gojo’s always out of his mind,” he grumbles, though it’s not as convincing as you would’ve preferred.
You let a few awkward moments hang, before something clicks in your head. “Well, this is all starting to make a lot of sense. You can’t quite leave me alone during practices and suddenly need to fuck me the night of your homecoming win. What, you bet on this or something?”
His lips part, carmine irises dancing between your left and right one before he resigns with a grunt. “Yeah. It was a bet.”
You scoff, shuffling into your suit and tugging the zipper up. “Right. There’s Ryomen Sukuna for you, certified Grade-A asshole,” you roll your eyes, ignoring the clench in your chest that maybe he could’ve been the slightest bit attracted to you.
But there was nothing there, at least nothing but lust.
He doesn’t answer, jaw ticking at you gathering your bearings.
“Glad the helmet stayed on to save me some of my dignity,” you huff, before tugging his door open and slamming it shut.
You pace down his steps, ignoring the snickering and sideways glares from half of the team, part of you glad you didn’t have an actual crush on Sukuna.
Like you’d said, he was just eye candy.
But now, he can’t seem to leave you alone during practice.
You can only guess it’s pity, maybe his consciousness couldn’t seem to stop berating him for once.
Until you spot him outside of the locker room after practice one day, waiting for you with a thumb between his lips and chewing on his cuticles, deep in thought.
You groan, before sliding past him to get changed out of your sweaty costume, but a hand on your furry wrist stops you.
“God— What is it?” You snap out, almost daring him with narrowed eyes through the giant ones plastered on the head piece.
His tight expression falters, the formidable man looking somewhat uncanny as if he’s on the verge of apologizing.
“Do you want to get dinner with me?”
You still, Sukuna’s grip firm but gentle on your arm, before you shake yourself free. “...What?”
He clears his throat, shuffling where he stands awkwardly and glancing around the empty corridor, still sweating in his jersey. “Dinner. Just you and me. I want to make it up to you.”
You’re not quite sure if you’re hearing him correctly, or if you’re being Punk’d, following his eye movements around the hallway and trying to spot the hidden camera crew. “Are you out of your mind, Sukuna?” You laugh unconvinced. “You joined a bet to fuck the school’s mascot and you won. What else do you want?”
“You! I-I mean, not you, but,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck. Listen, ever since that night, I can’t get you out of my mind. I don’t know if it’s my guilt, or if you hexed me, but I need to see you again. You gotta let me apologize properly.”
You feel your teeth grinding like tectonic plates with a vengeance. “So this is to reassure your ego that you’re not the evil asshole you are?”
He scowls. “Fuck, no. I’m sorry, and I mean it. Let me take you out,” he damn near pleads, eyes narrowing and searching for any sign of resignation in your form.
You mull it over, nibbling on the inside of your cheek before folding your arms over your chest. This is probably a really bad idea, as Sukuna is infamously known across campus for getting his way and not apologizing for it. But, you give in on your own terms. “Alright.”
He flinches. “Alright?” He echoes, voice pitched just an octave higher like he hadn’t expected you to agree at all.
part 2 to: frat! sukuna is interested in the cute girl in his friends lecture
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who has been showing up to his friend's class every day to see you
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who spends his free time wandering campus to try and find you
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who figures out where you like to study, where you hangout with your friends, what you usually get from the coffee shop
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who keeps getting told by his friends that he's being "a fucking weirdo"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who has a note on his phone on how he can ask you out, or at least tell you that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who is used to calling girls "hot" and "sexy", but with you, the only thing he sees is pure, heart-stopping, mesmerizing beauty
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who finally grows a pair one day, about 2 months after seeing you for the first time
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who comes up to you after your lecture, palms sweaty and cheeks dusted with pink, nothing like the usual confident and cocky man
»-♡→ frat! sukuna, who, from an outside perspective, looks like an intimidating, asshole of a frat guy
"uh, excuse me."
you pause in the exit of the door, turning around to see who said that. when you see the 6'3" frat boy, clad in a black muscle tee, you think there's no way it was him who called you. but when you turn to leave again, you hear them say "excuse me," again. when you turn around, the only person left there is him. this pink haired, tattooed (may i add sexy), man.
"um, yes?"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who has never heard two sweeter words in his life, and it takes him a moment to respond back, especially with the way you're staring at him in confusion, eyes wide and lashes fluttering
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who extends a large hand to you, "the names ryomen"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who watches shock pass your features, and then a subtle curiosity. you extend your own hand out, dainty and decorated with cute nails and rings. when your hand fits into his for a hand shake, it's so soft he doesn't want to let go
"y/n".
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who swears that's the prettiest name he's ever heard
"can i help you?"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who wants to say "yes, help me, please help me," but in reality he freezes, regaining barely half of his composure with a sharp exhale and a hand through his hair
"was just wonderin' if i could get your instagram or somethin.' "
»-♡→ frat! sukuna watches your eyes slightly widen, your body language suddenly turning nervous
"if you're okay with that... of course, i've just been noticing you for a while, that's all."
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who watches a soft smile spread across your features, your eyes crinkling slightly
"yea, why not?"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who loves winning, and feels like the biggest winner right now
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who watches you type your username into his phone,and wave him a soft goodbye and "see you around, ryomen"
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who repeats the way his name sounded on your tongue a million times for the rest of the day
»-♡→ frat! sukuna who now just has to build up the courage to send you a message, send his sweet and gorgeous crush a message
<𝟑 .ᐟ 3 4 STEPS TO GET YOUR PERV ROOMMATES TO FUCK YOU!
₊˚⊹ᰔ sukuna x reader x toji
₊˚⊹ᰔ you can read pt. 1 here, or it can be read separately! MDNI. fem!reader, p in v, oral (f receiving), lots of teasing, bratty reader, trip to paris iykwim, NOT PROOFREAD! sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes!
it’s been a week since your five brain cells finally formed a thought and you discovered your roommates were utter pervs, jerking off shamelessly to you! at least sukuna tried to hide it, but toji? he’d straight up check you out, shamelessly! he even started flirting! it’s a good thing you’ve been acting so slutty on purpose, you wanted this reaction. whats wrong with a girl being a perv, too? they were big, strong, sexy men! doesn’t hurt a girl to flaunt a little for their attention, and you had their attention alright.
while they were shameless, boy did they have some self control. toji flirted, yea, but neither of them would ever go out of their way to touch you intimately. you knew they jerked off every night to you, could hear them groaning your name, but they never tried anything. it was great they were so respecting of your personal space, but you were asking for this, for goodness sake!
you began masturbating, loudly, with the door cracked open just a smidge so your two dumb, horny roommates could take a goddamn hint. you know they both witnessed you dipping your fingers into your sopping cunt, teasing yourself with that old hot pink vibrator, and heard you moaning their names, so why have they not budged yet?! toji walked in on you fucking yourself on a seven inch dildo and sukuna watched you squirt all over your bedsheets while chanting his name- so why had neither of them stepped forward to just fuck you already? you were beginning to think you were acting like more of a perv than them.
it was time to up your game. show them you were just as into them as they were you. and you had just the perfect plan: seduce them, get their gears turning, sex! your first target? toji.
✎ STEP ONE: SEDUCE. TARGET: TOJI.
toji was the easier target, surely he’d fold first. you know how fascinated he is with your panties, so here you are, shoving a victoria’s secret bag stuffed with lingerie and panties right in his face.
“toji! i need your help picking which one is the sexiest. could you help me?” you’re looking at him as sultry as ever, eyelashes batting sweetly, bottom lip jut out just a tad for your teeth to sink into. toji already looks far gone just staring into the contents of the bag, he’ll be so easy.
“you want my help, doll? why d’ya need this many pairs, anyways? tryna impress some guy?”
“something like that,” you’re twirling your hair with your pointer finger now, looking up at him beneath batted lashes. you cant help the smirk that tugs at your lips when you see his expression morph into one of irritation. he’s a jealous guy, too? you’re going to have so much fun with him.
“shouldn’t you be showin’ him, then?” toji questions, arms crossing across his chest, making his biceps squeeze so deliciously under that tight shirt of his. you make an effort to shamelessly stare at the way his biceps bulge, give him the fucking hint that you’re into him.
“no, no,” you’re shaking your head, “don’t you know it’s bad luck for your date to see your panties before the date?” you’re questioning him this time, hands on your hips as you make him feel like the dumbass while you utter straight bullshit.
“uh… never heard of that one.”
“well, now you have. so, wanna see me try them on? judging them from the model is probably more accurate than just seeing them in the bag.”
toji almost sputters, you have to tear your gaze away to stop yourself from laughing. he’s agreeing, though, leading you to his room where you can finally seduce him properly.
it only takes you trying on the first pair of panties for him to sport a boner, you could spot the huge tent in his pants from a mile away! he was way easier than you thought, only one pair and he’s already aching like that? how pathetic. you can’t say you blame him, though. they are a cute pair, and in his favorite color, black. it’s a g-string thong, does not even cover your ass a bit. there’s a cute little bow that decorates the front, and most of the fabric is sheer. maybe you shouldn’t have gone all out on the first pair, it’s no wonder he’s already this hard. oh well, you’ve been waiting for this moment alone with him for a week, can you blame a girl for being a little impatient?
now you’re making your way towards his spot on the bed, slow and teasing, swaying your hips just to put on a show. toji’s speechless when you plop yourself right down on his lap, your legs falling on either side of his thighs. successfully straddling him to the bed. the guttural groan he lets out when you grind your hips against his lets you know it’s time to commence step two.
✎ STEP TWO: MAKE THAT MAN USE HIS BRAIN. TARGET: TOJI.
“what’s wrong?” you tease, rubbing your pantie-clad pussy against his bulge. it’s bigger than you imagined, you were almost scared to see the real thing.
“doll,” toji groans, scarred hands finally touching you to grip the flesh of your hips. he has a tight hold on you, like he is afraid of letting you go, like he physically needs you on his lap or he’ll die.
“hmm?” your teasing hum is whispered into the shell of his ear before you nip playfully at the earlobe. the action successfully spurred toji further on, nails now digging into your plush skin, you were sure he was going to leave marks at this rate. he’s shifting you now, making you sit right on his knee.
you find out then that toji is just as much as a tease as you, because now he’s rocking you back and forth on his knee, nudging your now aching clit with each bounce. he can feel you soaking against his sweatpants, panties (which you just bought, mind you) were already ruined. oh well, he can just keep them after.
“this what you wanted?” toji growled, one hand dipping down to your cunt while the other wrapped around your neck. he’s rubbing you through your panties, teasing your poor, needy clit. when you try to beg him to just touch you already, he’s choking you further, making your eyes roll back all prettily.
wow, you seriously underestimated how easy toji was, because in less than a second he was picking you like you weighed nothing. he’s tossing you on the bed, and before you get a second to even register what’s happening, he’s manhandling you roughly.
“you’ve been teasing me all week,” toji grunts, shoving your face in the pillow and arching your back so your ass was raised high in the air. even though he clearly had the upper hand, you still wiggled your hips, just to be a tease.
toji did not appreciate the wiggle, because a punishing hand is slapped right down on your ass, leaving you squealing into the pillow. you can’t even twist around and fight back, as his free hand is keeping your upper body pinned down.
“don’t like when i do it back t’ya?” another slap, this time to your inner thigh. your body jolts from the sensation, and a muffled sound leaves your lips. he relishes in your vulnerable display, slapping a mean hand down right to your pussy this time.
“toji!” you squeal from your place in the pillow, which comes out more like ‘mmmffi.’ maybe you had taken your teasing a little too far, already babbling a muffle apology as he slaps your clit this time. but toji is far gone at this point, ripping your panties off to directly slap the abused bud.
you’re crying into the pillow at this point as he tortures your needy, oversensitive body. he’s whispering degradations into your ear, ‘ya like that? dirty girl.’ ‘gonna fuck that bratty attitude right outta ya.’ ‘see what teasing gets ya?’ ‘do you like this? fucking slut.’ you hate how wetter his mean words get you, soaking his hand and dripping onto the sheets below you.
toji’s hand is suddenly off you, and you can hear him rustling behind you. you don’t dare move from your spot smushed into the pillows, too scared he’ll just tease you more until you’re overstimulated. you are curious, however, tilting your head back juuuust enough to get a view of the stupidly massive cock of his.
“that is not fitting-” you instantly yelp upon seeing it. toji lets out a little tsk before pushing you back into the pillow, massive tip now lining up with your entrance. “shh, doll, you wanted this, ya? i’ll be gentle, promise. tell me if it hurts, mkay?”
✎ STEP THREE: SEX BACKSHOTS OF DOOM? TARGET: TOJI YOU.
toji was lying when he said he’d be gentle. he was slow and sweet when pushing the fat rod of his inside, whispering how good you were, how well you were taking him. but the moment he bottomed out, he just couldn’t help it and began pounding your welcoming pussy. you weren’t expecting such a big, thick cock to split you open like this, writhing in the sheets as you tried your hardest to accommodate to his length. he was already groaning about how tight your pussy was, gripping to his cock like a virgin.
“fuuuuck babydoll, are you actually a virgin? y’er just- ohmygod- so fuckin’ tight, you’ve gotta be, right? savin’ this pretty pussy for me?”
you’re much too fucked out to respond, a moaning mess as he utterly uses you, obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. the arched angle has him hitting spots you didn’t even know existed, vision blurring from absolute pleasure.
“been dreamin’ about this. ‘bout you, doll. been wanting to fuck you soooo bad. ever since you moved in. dreamin’ ‘bout me too, baby? leave your panties lying around all for me, right? wanted me to fuck you so bad you just had to tease me like the little brat you are, that it?”
your muffled screams in the pillow only spur toji on further, thrusting into you at an inhumane pace, deep enough he slammed into your cervix with each thrust. he’s been dreaming of this moment since you moved your pretty ass in, how could he not indulge and absolutely wreck you?
“you’re so sexy. so pretty. wanna make you mine so bad. i’ll take such good care of you, baby.”
he’s wringing an orgasm out of you in seconds, one so intense it leaves you gasping for breath. you were sure you looked a mess, body trembling as your cunt fluttered dangerously around toji’s fat length. when you realize he isn’t stopping anytime soon, still pounding into your overstimulated entrance, all you can do is claw at the bed sheets and scream his name.
“gooooood baby, feel so good around my cock. keep squeezin’ me jus’ like that- gonna make me cum inside you, fuck. would you like that? want me to breed this pussy?”
you’re ashamed to admit his babbles about breeding you have you cumming two more times until he’s pulling out, giving his length two strokes before he came spilling out on his t shirt. you were absolutely wrecked, body sinking into the mattress and lying limp. the only movement you could make was a little twist of your head to tell him just how mean and big he was.
“did you have to be that mean?” your voice comes out in a weak croak, angry glare sent his way. toji just laughs, swatting your ass once before leaving and returning with a towel.
“lemme clean you up, doll. wanna bath?”
toji was surprisingly much more sweet and tender than you imagined. you always thought of him as a fuck and dip kind of guy, but here he was, picking you up bridal style to give you a bath.
“didn’t take you as an aftercare kinda guy,” you giggle lazily, poking toji’s cheek.
“i’m not. you’re just different. can you shut up and get in the bath already?”
────﹒♡﹒────
it took you at least two days to recover from toji’s relentless backshots, the backshots of doom your best friend yuki likes to call them. you walked with a limp the past two days, it’s finally dulled down to a little tremble.
toji was at the gym today, giving you a perfect chance to finally execute the same plan with sukuna. yes, even after the backshots of doom, you are greedy and still want more. besides, it wasn’t polite to only give one of them what they wanted!
you caught sukuna off guard in the kitchen in all his glory. shirtless, messy hair, nothing but a pair of boxers, intricate tattoos on full display for you to marvel at. it shocked you that a guy that looked so mean and scary was really just a nice guy underneath, respectful of your privacy and belongings. sometimes you wish he’d just crack once, but it’s okay, you’ve taken things into your own hands now.
✎ STEP ONE: SEDUCE. TARGET: SUKUNA.
“your tattoos are really pretty,” your melodic words startle him from where he had his back facing you, brewing a pot of coffee. he twists himself around to look down at you, sheepish hand flying to rub the back of his neck.
“pretty? that’s not really a word i’d use to describe myself.”
“what’s wrong with a guy being pretty? you are.” you’re hopping yourself onto the kitchen counter now, seated close enough to him that your arms brush against one another. your feet dangle below you, knocking into his leg to gain his attention.
“nothing, i guess. just never been called it… you’ve got me beat, though.”
“are you calling me pretty?” you lean in closer to him, sickly sweet smirk painted on your lips.
“i mean- yeah. obviously. you’re pretty.” you can tell he’s blushing now by the way he turns away from you.
“wanna see mine?”
“huh?” sukunas turning back to face you, eyebrow raised as you give him a cheeky expression.
“my tattoo, silly!”
“you have a tattoo?”
that got his attention, you beckon him forward with a finger, to which he obeys so sweetly. his face becomes the color of his hair when you’re tugging your shorts down as far as you can to show off your cute little heart tattoo, right above your womb.
“you like it?” you ask all innocently, determined to rile him up. you notice the way his adam’s apple bobs, the way he grips the kitchen counter beside you to physically restrain himself from taking you right here, right now.
“i- yeah. it suits you. cute.”
“aaaand?”
“and… it’s pretty, like you.”
“aaaaaaaaand?” now you’re just messing with him.
“a-and…”
gosh. you didn’t know it was possible to reduce sukuna to a blushing mess just from a tattoo. he was much more soft than you gave him credit for.
✎ STEP TWO: MAKE HIM USE THAT BRAIN. TARGET: SUKUNA.
“i’m just teasing you, silly. cmon, i’ll give you a hint.”
“a hint?”
“mmm hmm…” your gaze drifts down to his boxers, bulge already tenting the strained fabric. you tug at the waistband, letting it slap against his skin, not before taking an appreciative glance at the pelvic line tattoos he had to show.
he’s gasping your name, head drooping low onto your shoulder. finally cracked him.
“i know you’ve heard me finger myself to you,” you hum sweetly, palming at the tent in his boxers. he’s groaning, deep and guttural. “do you not want me, too? been fucking myself on my fingers wishing it was you… and you never came to help me…”
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry baby- didn’t wanna scare you. fuck. you’re so perfect, scared you’d run away from me if i tried anything funny.”
his voice is so deep it grumbles in his chest, making you drip through your panties. how could someone so scary be so cute?
“i’d never run away from you. let me show you?” you’re about to hop off the counter, drop to your knees and suck the soul out of his body, but he’s keeping you in place with his inhuman strength.
“no, no, let me make it up to you,” he’s insisting, he’s the one getting on his knees. “been dying to taste you. please, princess? let me show you how bad i’ve wanted you?”
he maneuvers you so your legs are draped over his shoulders, head resting on your inner thigh as he helps you tug your shorts and panties off. sukunas groaning at just the sight of your glistening pussy under the light, taking a deep inhale before getting to work.
sukuna is a patient man, a man who takes his time. he’s killing you with the amount of teasing kisses he lays along your inner thighs, open mouthed and sloppy. he even leaves a few warning nips when you complain how badly you want him- mean!
✎ STEP THREE: SEX BREAKFAST. TARGET: SUKUNA YOU.
finally, his breath ghosts over your sensitive folds. first he kisses them gently, then a tongue- a pierced one- is lapping between them. you immediately fist his hair from the sensation, gripping him so hard it must hurt, but he only groans in satisfaction as you push his face closer to your needy cunt. the groan sends vibrations straight to your pussy, only making you wetter, much to his pleasure.
“taste so good,” he mumbles against you between licks, ringed finger joining alongside his tongue to plunge deep in your entrance.
“k-kuna! fuck! please- just like that- oh my god- you feel so good!” you were a loud thing, maybe it was for the better that toji had your face shoved in a pillow the entire time.
good thing sukuna likes loud, doubling his efforts to make you cum on his tongue from the sweet noises you were making.
you cry out in earnest, bucking your hips against his face for more friction. purposely, he angles his face so your clit nudges against his nose with each grind. you gasp at the sensation, staring down to see an absolutely pussydrunk man, face glossy with your juices, tongue now replacing his finger to fuck in and out of your delicious cunt.
you’re cumming on his tongue within seconds, hips twitching against his face, legs trembling on either side of his shoulders. he doesn’t let you back away, no, he’s holding you in place so you can squirt right into his mouth. god, he’s filthy.
you came so hard, you hadn’t even noticed the other presence in the room. sukuna and you are both started when toji’s voice rings out, “havin’ fun without me?”
✎ STEP FOUR?: TAG TEAMED. TARGET: YOU.
you don’t even register sukuna and toji’s petty argument as they’re both tugging you around to your room, much too dazed from your orgasm and excitement to listen to them fight over who deserved you more.
you don’t register what’s happening as your manhandled onto your hands and knees on the bed, toji positioning himself at your front while sukuna positions himself behind.
they’re still arguing when toji’s pressing the the tip of his cock to your pretty lips and sukunas nudging the head of his dick through your soaking folds. you don’t even get a chance to speak up and stop this petty argument, as both your ends are completely stuffed by two thick, long cocks.
“she fucked me first,” tojis growling at his roommate and longtime best friend, hips thrusting into your eager and willing mouth. you can’t help but claw at the meat of his hips for stability as you’re absolutely pounded raw from behind.
“ok? she clearly wants me more,” sukuna grunts back, hands gripping your waist to fuck you with greater intensity.
“fuck you.”
“fuck you.”
they were gonna be at this all night, you knew it. you’d never be able to walk again- you’re already cumming on sukunas cock, clit untouched, from the dual sensation of both men railing either side of you.
“fuuuuck, the way she moans on my cock when you pound her like that,” tojis groaning, hand fisting your hair to face fuck you harder. wait. was he… complimenting sukuna? was whatever jealous argument they had over?
“bro- fuck- she sounds so pretty gagged on you, she’s cumming so hard.” sukunas now complimenting toji, hips stuttering as you squeeze down around his cock.
synopsis: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution.
Now you have exactly one job: fix this disaster of a relationship before your husband decides to finish what the original plot started.
a\n: longest fic i’ve written so far. nearly lost my mind, almost scrapped it entirely, questioned every life choice that led me here, but somehow, against all odds… it’s done. so glad its over LOL
You died while reading a manhwa.
One moment you were curled up in bed at 3 a.m., a blanket pulled up to your chin, the only light in your dark room coming from your phone screen. Your eyes were glued to the latest chapter of The Duke’s Black Heart, thumb hovering over the final panel as frustration and reluctant longing twisted in your chest. The illustration was breathtakingly brutal: Duke Ryomen Sukuna standing tall amid swirling snow, pink hair tousled by the wind, crimson eyes empty of mercy, black tattoos stark against his skin as he looked down at the broken body of his wife.
The page loaded one last time. The panel filled your screen. Then your vision blurred, the room spun violently, and everything went black. No pain. No final breath. Just sudden, heavy nothing.
And then you woke up somewhere else.
Cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and biting. Your eyes flutter open slowly, lashes feeling unusually heavy. You’re lying in a massive four-poster bed, the canopy above you made of thick crimson velvet that drapes down like heavy curtains. The silk sheets beneath you are cool and slippery against your skin in a way that feels far too expensive, far too unfamiliar. Thick blankets weighted with fur press down on your body, carrying a faint scent of woodsmoke and aged iron. Your limbs feel wrong — too slender, too delicate. When you lift your hands, they are smaller, with smooth palms and perfectly manicured nails that catch the dim morning light filtering through tall, frost-laced windows.
You push yourself up into a sitting position. The silk nightgown slips off one shoulder. A large, ornately framed mirror stands across the room, reflecting the lavish bedchamber: dark wood furniture, heavy tapestries on the walls, a fireplace crackling faintly in the corner. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting cold stone that sends a shiver racing up your spine.
You turn toward the mirror.
The face staring back at you is not your own. It is strikingly beautiful in a refined, aristocratic way that feels both alien and intimidating.
You have transmigrated.
You are now the villainess.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna’s wife of exactly six months.
The realization slams into you like ice water. Memories that don’t belong to you flood your mind in vivid, unrelenting flashes. The forced marriage ceremony under the Emperor’s decree. The wedding night where her body had lain stiff and unresponsive beneath his, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she called him a beast under her breath and swore she would never allow him to touch her again. Six agonizing months of total, deliberate silence: never speaking a single word directly to him, never sharing his table, never sharing his bed. Only curt notes passed through servants, hidden schemes whispered to outsiders, and a cold, hateful distance that grew sharper every day. Sukuna’s contempt had hardened into something lethal.
In the original story, he kills her. Publicly. Brutally. Before the year is out — dragging her into the courtyard and ending her life with the same large, scarred hands you’ve fantasized about for months.
And now I’m her.
Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.
The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.
“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”
You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”
The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”
The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”
You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”
The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.
Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”
They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.
They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.
The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.
There he is.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.
You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.
His knife stops mid-cut.
The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.
Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.
You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”
The words hang in the air.
Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.
“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”
He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.
“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”
Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.
You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.
This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.
The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.
By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.
You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.
Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.
A gruff “Come in” came from inside.
You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.
The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.
Then his crimson eyes flicked up.
The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.
You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”
Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.
“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”
He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.
“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”
His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.
“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.
“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.
“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”
He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.
You didn’t argue.
You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.
Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
That went badly.
You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.
Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.
You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?
If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.
You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?
It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.
You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.
The next morning arrived quietly.
You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.
You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.
You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.
About an hour later, the door opened.
Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.
For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.
“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”
You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.
“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”
Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.
“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”
You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”
He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”
You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”
Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.
“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”
But he didn’t ask you to leave.
You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.
It wasn’t much.
But it also wasn’t outright rejection.
You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.
Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.
“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”
You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.
“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”
The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.
You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.
“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”
He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.
“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.
You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.
This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.
But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.
You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.
Tomorrow it is.
The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.
You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.
You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.
They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.
You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.
“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.
A firm knock sounded at the door.
“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.
You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.
Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.
His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.
“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.
“I said I would,” you replied simply.
He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.
You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.
As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”
You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”
Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.
The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.
When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.
Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.
“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.
You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.
“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”
The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.
The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.
You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.
Tonight was different.
Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.
A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”
Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”
The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”
You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.
“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”
“I thought she hated him…”
“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”
Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.
Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.
For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”
You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”
“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”
Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.
A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.
“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”
Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”
You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.
Suddenly, you were alone.
You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.
A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.
“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”
You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.
“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”
His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”
Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”
The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.
Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”
You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Sukuna.
His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.
Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.
“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”
Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”
You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.
Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”
Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.
“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”
Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.
He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”
The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.
You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.
“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.
“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”
You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”
Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.
“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”
His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.
Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.
“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”
His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.
The music swelled again around you.
Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.
“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”
Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.
He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.
“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”
You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”
The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.
As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.
“Sukuna…” you started softly.
He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.
“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”
The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.
When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.
“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”
He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.
The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.
Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.
The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.
By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.
When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.
He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.
When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.
“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”
He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.
You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.
“Wait…”
Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.
You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"
The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.
Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.
“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”
He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.
“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”
His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.
Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.
The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.
Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.
“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”
He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”
He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.
The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.
His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.
Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.
“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”
He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.
“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.
He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.
You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.
You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.
Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.
You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.
For a long second he just stared.
Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.
“Come here,” he said, voice low.
You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.
You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.
The silence was heavy.
“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”
Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.
The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.
Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.
“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”
He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.
Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.
For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.
Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.
He didn’t pull away immediately.
“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”
You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.
“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.
Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.
He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.
“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”
Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”
Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.
God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.
He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”
You didn’t make him wait long.
You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.
“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”
A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.
Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.
The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.
Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.
“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”
You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.
There was no point in holding back anymore.
“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Bullshit.”
The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.
“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”
You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.
“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.
“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.
“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”
His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.
“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”
His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.
“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”
The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.
Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.
You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.
“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.
“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”
His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.
“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.
Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.
“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”
He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.
“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”
His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.
Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.
“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”
You didn’t hesitate any longer.
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.
Then he took control.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.
You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.
“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”
He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.
“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”
He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.
Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.
“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”
You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.
“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”
His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.
You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.
He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”
One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.
“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”
He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.
He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.
“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”
He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.
The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.
You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.
“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”
He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”
His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.
It snapped.
You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.
He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.
“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.
He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.
“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”
His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”
You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.
Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.
“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”
He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.
You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.
Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.
He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.
“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”
He pushed forward slowly.
The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.
Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.
“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”
He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.
You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”
He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.
“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.
You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.
“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.
“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.
You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.
“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”
“Good girl.”
He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.
The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.
“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.
“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”
“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”
It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”
He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”
Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.
Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”
He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.
Sukuna went feral.
He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.
You were cockdrunk almost immediately.
Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.
“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.
He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.
“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.
“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.
Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.
“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”
You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”
Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.
He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.
“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.
Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.
“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.
He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.
“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”
He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.
You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.
Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”
You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”
He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”
He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.
You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.
“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”
He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.
Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.
But he didn’t let go.
a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
i sincerely apologize for what you are about to read
cw: mdni, dubcon(?), portal pocket pussy, unintentional cheating, male infertility, creampie, take the phone away from me pls
jin itadori gifts his asshole twin brother a pocket pussy thinking it'll help with his anger issues. sukuna finds it fucking dumb yet on one desperate night when he's got no fling to call since he pissed them all off and he's at his brother's house, he ends up putting the thing to use.
it's ridiculous really, his tatted face heating in embarrassment when he licks at the pearly little clit of the plush pussy that's tarty sweet and warm against his tongue. toy or not, he can't fucking help that he's a munch, dipping his hot, wet muscle into the fluttering hole, slathering it in his saliva as he groans at the slick oozing onto his awaiting tastebuds. when it swells and clamps down on his swirling tongue, he tips his head back, adam's apple bobbing as his tongue is coated with the dripping cum.
now that his thirst is temporarily satiated, he shucks off his jeans, cock smacking against his abdomen that flinches and bunches as the thick, dark-veined shaft lolls against it heavily. he pumps it in his fist a few times then slaps his weeping tip against the clit, smirking when it jumps. then he eases it inside the sopping cunt, jaw slack and brows knit as he watches the hole stretch wide around his girth, swallowing him slow and snug.
he can hardly hold himself back from working the squelching, drooling pussy up and down his cock, slobbering the pulsing length of it in tangy, honeyed juices that foam around his base in a creamy ring as lazy grunts and slurring groans spill from his mouth and into the quiet guest room.
meanwhile, back at the ranch aka his brother's bedroom, his wife who absolutely hates sukuna because he's been nothing but trouble and stressing out your husband for as long as you've known is gasping and moaning high-pitched, fucked-out sounds as a thick cock—that definitely doesn't belong to your husband who can't fuck you since your pussy is already filled—pounds into you relentlessly.
“ah-ahh-hah, fuck, fuck, fuck, it's too much,” you whimper, sweat beading on your forehead, expression pained from the sheer overload of pleasure wracking through your system. legs kicking out, your writhe and squirming to get away from whoever is fucking you but you just can't—
jin is frazzled, glasses askew as he runs his hands through his touseled, coral tufts that are already in disarray as he tries to figure out how the fuck this is happening. it makes no sense. the pocket pussy linked to yours is tucked away in his nightstand, unused. he's saving it for his business trip in a few weeks so how—
“oh my god, it's so big, i can't, i can't,” you cry out, tears glittering as they run down your cheeks, sobs ripping from your throat as you fall back onto the bedding. “jin, do something, please.”
a strangled noise leaves your distressed husband. “i'm sorry baby, i don't know how this could be possible. maybe they mixed it up at the shop and made it a portal pussy or something.”
you hardly hear him, feeling the cock dragging within you throb and kick, your eyes knocking into the back of your skull. “shitttttt, he's gonna come inside. he's coming, he's—angghhh!”
the man you married watches in horror as your pussy spasms and convulses, you coming with the stranger before thick, creamy cum drizzled out of your abused cunt in syrupy streams as you pant and sigh, bones melting.
a loud, belly-deep groan sounds from the other end of the house and your husband stills, realisation dawning him like a bucket of ice water dousing him on a below zero day.
shit, shit, shit! that's right—he gave the tatted, dickhead version of him a pocket pussy as a gag gift. he was sure the man would scoff and chuck it in the trash but not only did he just use it—jin accidentally swapped his own with his twin!
his wife would fucking murder him if she found out.
(though this may work in his favor because you both have been trying to have a baby only to be told that jin is infertile by a few doctors and since sukuna is basically him, maybe he can knock you up. your husband won't mind, he wants a baby with you bad—)
as your husband slowly descends into a spiral of madness, you're seeing stars, boneless and blissful as you stare at the ceiling after what might have been the best sex of your life.
don't get you wrong, sex with your husband is good, really good. but he's so gentle, aggravatingly gentle. sweet and slow, dragging out the act as if there's no destination in mind which would be satiating if you weren't a lustful vixen who enjoyed being manhandled and fucked hard. sometimes he doesn't even make you cum, your cunt squeezes as if you did orgasm but it's as anticlimactic as an interrupted sneeze or cut-off yawn.
so you shamefully hope that you never find out who actually has the pocket pussy and that they fuck you like that more often.
as for sukuna, he's found his new obsession, staring at the pocket pussy in his hand with starry, droopy eyes and a dopey, sleazy grin on his face.
blame @yenayaps for egging me on to post this travesty
frat!sukuna, who’s been eyeing the adorable girl who sits in the front row of his physics class, always quiet, only talking to your group of friends, always steering clear of chaos and most importantly, guys like him.
frat!sukuna, who tries to convince himself that you aren’t his type, that you’re too quiet, too soft for someone like him, but he decides that striking up a conversation with you wouldn’t be the worst thing ever…or so he thought.
frat!sukuna, who calls out to you after class, catching up to you to try to ask you for your number, only to be met with the sharpest,
“and why would i give you my number?”
he’s practically stunned to silence, nearly stuttering—he’s so used to women practically throwing themselves at him, and he thought you were shy, soft spoken, but the way you were looking at him now? it looked like you wanted him dead.
frat!sukuna, who just stares at your face, god were you always that pretty? and he just couldn’t fathom why you scowling at him was one of the prettiest sights he’d ever laid his eyes upon.
“what? are you really just gonna gawk at me? say something geez” you scoff while walking past him in the hallway and sukuna swears he feels his heart skip a beat while he watches you walk away.
frat!sukuna, who’s absolutely hell bent on getting to know you after this one conversation with you, he’s practically stalked through all your socials, found all your secret accounts, going through all the little pictures, studying your reposts—he’s obsessed.
frat!sukuna, who tries to approach you after class the next day, only for you to roll your gorgeous at him, scoff and just go about your day as if he was never there.
frat!sukuna, who almost fascinates you, much against your will, but his persistence in wanting to get to know you only fuels you on further, plus it’s hard not to notice the way he flushes almost as bright pink as his hair every single time you roll you eyes at him.
frat!sukuna, who gets a little kick out of getting degraded, something about you being so mean to him just gets him going, he just needs to know what’d be like to have you look at him the same way you look at your friends.
frat!sukuna, whos always the first to check your instagram the second you post your pretty face, your lips curved in the most stunning smile and before he knows it, he’s palming at his cock, all your scoffs ringing in his ears, his back arching pathetically on his mattress, while he snakes his hand underneath his sweats to wrap his hands around his dick.
frat!sukuna, who cums almost immediately at the thought of you looking down on him, your eyes slit, your glasses perched at the tip of your nose, while you stare down at him with nothing but disgust on your face and fuck if that’s not the hottest thing he’s ever thought of in a while.
frat!sukuna, who’s absolutely hell bent on finding a way to impress you, sitting next to you during classes, staring at the unimpressed expression on your face with heart-eyes, always lending you cute stationary, just to watch your eyes soften for a split second before—
“what the hell is this sukuna?”
well. if you were going to play hard to get, so be it. sukuna wasn’t deterred at all, the meaner you were to him, the more infatuated he grew. what can he say? he just wants a woman who can put him in his place, and it seems like he found someone who just did.
sorry we back in my flop era but im bringing out my old favs !! @yoonsucks @yorikae
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
"what am i to do with you frivolous little creatures?" your husband grunts though there is no real malice behind his words.
if anyone approached sukuna years ago and told him that he'd be wrapped around the fingers of a lover and two children, he would've beat the shit out of them.
but here he is— sprawled out on a large, animal-themed playmate with his two adorably irresistible infant children.
your daughter coos affectionately at her father, small mouth forming a smile. her twin brother copies her actions and raises his limbs to wiggle them in the air. sukuna feels how his heartstrings begin to reluctantly tug. how could he ever be his aloof self when around his own flesh?
"i see you have inherited your mother's sense of humor, towa." he observes as his large fingers pluck your son's foot, causing him to babble in delight. sukuna's attention shifts to your daughter. "as for you, yuwa—"
"am i interrupting a moment with babies and daddy?"
your husband's head immediately snaps towards the direction of your voice. there's a natural, maternal softness illuminating your figure, a glow that draws sukuna towards you. you bend down to pick up your daughter, purring as you kiss her cheek.
"my sweet yuwa," you say before lifting her up to check her diaper. "someone's a little stinky— don't you think, kuna?" you ask, followed by kissy noises to your daughter.
sukuna doesn't answer. he's enamoured by the sight in front of him— you, his darling wife and his precious daughter. what knocks him out of the trance is his son, who delivers a playful kick to his face.
he huffs when he faces his son, eyes narrowing slightly. "only six months of age and you are already plotting against me, towa." your son lets out a mixture of a giggle and babble, causing your husband to bring down his front. "it seems that i am raising you and your sister well."
"da… dada—!" towa blurts out before seemingly clapping his hands and wiggling his legs. both you and sukuna's eyes widden at the sudden action.
sukuna then picks and lifts your son into the air, tossing him up every few seconds. "mind repeating what you just said, towa?" he presses playfully— a rare side of him.
"dada!" your son babbles happily. "dadadadada!"
as if interlinked, your daughter begins to reach her tiny hands out to her father. "d—dada!" yuwa squeals, making grabbing motions with her fingers. you transfer her over to sukuna, who professionally handles the two of them in his arms.
immediately she begins to paw at sukuna's face, to you stifle a giggle and assuringly pat his back. "you've gained a few followers, kuna."
sukuna rolls his eyes. "they know who their 'dada' is."
asshole!sukuna and his soft spot for shy!girlfriend!reader ༊*·˚ (18+)
asshole!sukuna doesn’t fuck with a lot of people. i mean, when you’re a 6’5, 90 kg guy with bold tattoos littering your entire body, you’re not really trying to attract sociable people. still, the borderline loner had a few exceptions, his frat brothers, a select few professors, and you.
you were the main exception.
asshole!sukuna met you one day at a fundraising event his frat was hosting, a dollar for a slap. girls would line up in front of a long table and choose a guy to hit, then pay a small donation that went towards the rspca. you and your friends were keen to donate, put some of the guys who’d fucked with their feelings in their place, or however they’d phrased it. you were mostly there for the experience, not too in tune with the whole frat fuckboy lore your friends loved to gossip about.
when you arrived, you started to feel really bad. all these guys’ cheeks were raw and red, and despite their cocky smiles, it just couldn’t be all that fun. when it came to your turn, you had to choose a guy, and your eyes drifted to asshole!sukuna. he was the biggest there, had only a slightly red cheek, and looked like he could take a hit.
asshole!sukuna forced a smile when he saw you walk up to him, your head lowered as you shyly handed over a fiver. he accepted with a, “thanks, sweetheart. go ahead.” he leaned down to your level, bracing for impact, but all he felt was a light pat on his stinging cheek.
“the fuck?”
“oh, i’m sorry! i tried to go soft, i—”
“you call that a slap? what, think i can’t handle it?” he scoffs. “slap me again, hun, harder. don’t waste your money.” he leans down again, looking you in the eye to challenge you.
but again, all that comes is a light tap.
“oh, for god— it’s a dollar for a slap, not a dollar for a fuckin’ cheek massage.” he huffs, looking over your expression with an irritated scowl, only to catch that hesitant little frown on your face.
asshole!sukuna can’t help but crack a smile. he’d had about ten girls come and slap the fuck outta him today. they were all old flings desperate to get their get-back, but that was hardly the point. you were this new thing entirely, a soft thing that seemed sweet regardless of if he was notorious for being a cunt or not.
“what’s y’ name, sweetheart?”
asshole!sukuna decided he wanted to see you again after that. you’d caught his interest, which doesn’t happen often. he asks for your number. your instagram, your snapchat, everything. it was kinda pathetic how eager he was to get to know you, but you handed them all over anyway. your friends warn you after the fact that he’s definitely not good news, but you can’t help but want to see where this goes after only dating squares for most of your life.
asshole!sukuna takes you on a date the very next day, and you were pleasantly surprised at how chivalrous he was. he pulled out your chair at the small hole-in-the-wall restaurant he took you to, he paid for everything, and even more surprisingly, made you feel comfortable. you talked for hours about everything and anything.
you learned that asshole!sukuna had a lot of hobbies. he played guitar, drums, did a fair few building sketches in the art room with his friend geto when he had time, and had a real connection to film. all of which were things you found extremely attractive, and he could tell, because the next time you two went out he took you to his dorm and showed you his musical endeavors.
“you’re like... super talented, it’s really attractive.” you smile gently, sitting at the foot of his bed, watching as he finishes up a love song he’d been learning for you.
“yeah, y’ think so? gonna come to all my gigs when i’m a famous musician?”
“will i get a backstage pass?”
“oh, absolutely.”
asshole!sukuna had officially swooned you after about five dates. he'd mustered up the courage to ask you to be his at that same restaurant he’d taken you to on that first date, and the rest was history. you and sukuna, the couple everyone of his mates envied due to how perfectly you two fit together.
“how the hell did a guy like you bag a girl like her. yr' gonna destroy the poor thing.” geto teased while they were smoking up one night.
asshole!sukuna could only reply with, “god, don’t you just hate jealous, hating ass motherfuckers?”
asshole!sukuna loved to not so subtly brag about you to literally anyone he talked to. (which wasn’t many, but still.)
“eugh, you’re buying lunch? my girlfriend made me food today, fucking loser.” he’d laugh at the dining hall when gojo and geto sat next to him with a greasy burger and fries. they just gave each other a look, smiled, and rolled their eyes.
“hm? nah, can’t tonight. me and my girl are getting hot pot. have fun drinking your problems, tho.” he’d turn toji down, turning his nose up at the idea of bar hopping like he wasn’t the most frequent man along the strip a few months back.
“a two man? i’m not bringing my girl around your little one and done situation, don’t ask me that shit again.” he’d laugh in jogo’s face, hating the idea of his precious baby being around a sleaze bag like him.
asshole!sukuna always puts you first. his frat’s planning something big, another fundraising night where they really care about attendance, and he’s meant to be there early to help set up. but out of the blue, you’ll send him a text just to say that you've had a slightly shitty day, and boom, he’s suddenly nowhere to be found. his phone’s off, car’s out of the driveway, and he’s at your door with your favorite food and that pissed look, how dare the world have the nerve to bother you.
asshole!sukuna likes to keep you very close to him when you’re out and about, with either an arm at your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s most comfortable when you’re right there where he can see you. that way, if anything were to happen, you’d be there for him to protect.
asshole!sukuna lets you get away with absolutely everything.
“ryo, can i draw on you? like, draw on your back while we watch a show or something?”
“sure, baby.”
“ryooo, can i braid your hair?”
“of course, love.”
“hey, ryomen? could you drive me to my friend’s house? she lives on the other side of town, though.. it’s okay if you don’t want—”
“no, no. let’s go, sweetness.”
“ryo, you smell.”
“shower with me then, baby.”
with anyone else, asshole!sukuna would have either yelled or broken their jaw for even thinking they could ask him such questions. but with you? the princess gets what the princess wants or whatever the saying he made up in his head was.
asshole!sukuna fucking hates when people talk over you. it’s a common occurrence due to your soft-spoken nature, you’ll be in the middle of saying something, and someone’ll cut in with whatever thing they think is funnier or more worth listening to. sukuna never lets it slide. “she was talking, dickhead.” he’d scoff, shutting them up and earning a shy, thankful smile from you, as you continued with what you were saying, far more important than whatever that clown had to yap on about anyways. (in sukuna’s mind, at least.)
asshole!sukuna spends a shit ton of money on you. you almost always go against the idea, but he just can’t help it... when he sees your eyes light up when you see something you like at the mall, he physically can’t resist. he’ll bookmark the product, then order it online to come to your apartment the next day.
“ryo... why do i have another package?” you whine over the phone, earning nothing but a chuckle from the other end.
“could tell you wanted it, so just enjoy it, sweet thing. you deserve all the fruits of my labour.”
“you don’t work? isn’t it your parents’ mon—”
“semantics. just enjoy, baby.” and he hangs up the phone, grabbing his keys to drive to your place and see how you like the new gift. he thinks it was a new dress? couldn’t be sure, it was hard keeping up with the millions of notifications from the post office.
asshole!sukuna remembers everything about his girl and makes sure you’re always getting exactly what you want. if he’s out getting dinner before driving to your place, he’ll stop at five different places if that meant getting your order perfectly correct. local maccas has a broken ice cream machine? he’s driving to the next location to try his luck there. one place doesn’t have the kind of noodles you like? he’s making his way to the closest chinese place to see if they do. he is the embodiment of “if he wanted to, he would,” and it’s all worth it seeing your face light up when he holds up the paper bag with a smile.
“your favourite.”
“oh my god? this is the place out of the city? how did you—”
“don’t worry about it, angel.”
and that was another thing, ashole!sukuna didn’t let you worry about anything. your place felt too messy? he was over there turning on mlp equestria girls and helping you clean. you wanted a home cooked meal? he’s at the store buying the ingredients. you needed help with an assignment? he’s pushed back his own work to sit down and help you smash them out.
asshole!sukuna is so overly territorial when it comes to functions. he doesn’t know, there’s just something about people drunk and horny all around you that ticks him off. he’ll always have you either sat next to or on his lap at frat parties. you stick to him regardless, but he has to make it obvious to all the fuckwits blatantly staring at you that you are indeed, his.
if they don’t get the hint the first time and are still gawking after his mild pda, asshole!sukuna would up the ante. he’ll take you off to some hallway or, if the guys are being particularly sleazy, he’ll kiss you right there. his lips trailling up and down your neck while he stares them dead in the eye, challenging them to look away.
“ryo... people are looking!” you whisper nervously.
“let them, sweetheart. you’re too pretty not to stare at.” he grins against your neck, sucking and biting at your soft skin.
by that point, they always look off. whether that be due to his death glare or the realisation that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon was beside the point.
asshole!sukuna gets embarrassingly hard at the smallest little things with you. you’ll just be sitting on the couch together and you’ll start scratching his back or head, boom, hard. when you’re sitting next to him in the library and you’re biting your pen, boom, hard. even when you’re just laying in bed, tired from the day, he’ll lay next to you and just sigh.
“how the fuck do you just look like that. you make it so hard to keep my shit to myself.” he groans as his arms snake around your waist.
“jeez, i can feel that thing poking into my back... what did i do now?” you smile sleepily.
“i wish i knew. seems like one look at you and i pop a boner.” he admits, a little embarrassed.
“can i help you out?”
asshole!sukuna loved how willing you were to service him, but preferred it the opposite way round. sukuna would spend hours between your pretty thighs if he could, sloppily kissing and sucking at your cunt with dazed eyes, loving nothing more than the pretty moans and groans he could pull from your throat.
“fuck yeah, y’ like that, baby? you like my tongue, hm?” he’d tease with his mouth full, pumping two fingers in and out of your soaked pussy as he dragged you closer and closer to your orgasm.
asshole!sukuna knew how wet his filthy words could get you, and he abused that knowledge each and every time he needed you prepped and ready for him.
“y’ think you can take me, baby, yeah? think you can take this fat cock?” he’d taunt, slapping the thick head against your cunt as your slick coated the pink, glossy skin. “fuckkkk, pretty pussy’s beggin’ t’ get drilled.”
“what’s that? you need me? well, isn’t that fuckin’ cute. beg a little more and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”
“be a good girl n’ say please and it’s all yours, angel.”
asshole!sukuna was massive, but you always took him so well. “you can do it, baby. i know you can.” he’d coo in your ear, lining up the monster of a thing.
“one, two, fuckkk.”
asshole!sukuna saw stars every time he’d push in, letting go of a long, pornographic moan as he began to thrust slowly in and out of your tight entrance. the look on your face as your eyes rolled back in pleasure made coming in less than a minute extremely hard, but the intense need to make you finish first overrode any sort of selfish desire to fill you up to the brim in the first few minutes.
asshole!sukuna loved missionary the most because he could see your pretty face. he enjoyed a bunch of freaked-out positions, but nothing could beat watching your pupils dilate and your lips quiver the second you finally came, his name on your tongue as you let go of the tension building in your tummy.
“y’ gonna come, baby? y’ gonna come on this cock?” he’d grunt, slamming his member deeper and deeper the louder your cries got, faster and faster until— “fuck, ryo! m’ cumming!” you’d stutter, your insides spasming on his cock, drawing out his own orgasm with one final pound, filling you up with hot ropes of his seed.
asshole!sukuna was the king of aftercare. words that were filthy before, now soft and caring.
“you okay, baby? did i go too hard on ya?” he’d ask through tired pants, standing to grab the wet wipes in the side drawer to wash your messy parts off.
“you want me to order something? anything you want, love. i’ll get you anything and everything.”
“c’mon, sweetheart. drink some water.”
asshole!sukuna never made you feel small after intimacy, in fact, sometimes you enjoyed the aftermath more than the mindblowing sex.
“m’ okay, ryo. just wanna cuddle.” you’d admit shyly, reaching for him to come back to bed.
his eyes would soften and he’d plop down next to you, pulling you into his lap. “anything for you, angel.”
sure, sukuna was an asshole, but he couldn't even dream of mistreating you, his biggest exception.
“love you, baby.”
“love you too, ryo.”
a/n: i wrote this semi off my face so excuse any bad word or structural choices 💘
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