Summary: a story in which the demon that gets sent to you ends up being more charming than he is scary, resulting in a strange bond that makes you question your sanity.
Content/Warnings: explicit smut, profanity, porn w/ plot, some angst/comfort, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, aphrodisiacs (sukuna can fill the air w/ it), oddly wholesome
Notes: there was this one scene that ended up being pretty cute, so i just gave them a happy ending LMAO it's more on the fantasy side of things. anyways, enjoy
You never understood the drama between neighbors until you had a horror story of your own.
Quite literally.
Living in the apartment right under Nishimiya’s was hell. The worst being her stomping throughout her apartment. You’ve baked her cookies, you've tried talking to her, you’ve tried yelling at her— just 10 minutes ago you were on a stepping stool, beating on the ceiling with a broom like a psychopath.
And what does the little brat do? She stomps back, which was enough to pause your morning and confront her. Again.
“Nishimiya!” You call out for the second time, incessantly knock on her door. “I can hear you in there, can you just please answer the door. I can’t take this anymore!”
The door eventually swings open and you're met with the little brats usual scowl, acting as if she were the one that has been ripped out of her sleep, consistently, for nearly 2 months now. It smells like she’s been burning herbs or something all morning.
“God– what is it now?” She groans.
“I really need you to quit stomping around so much in the morning– I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
“Seriously?” She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “This is what you came to me for?”
“Yes! This is insane. Not even the last tenant before you made this much noise!”
“Well get over it,” She responds rudely. “You’re not the only one who pays to live here.”
And with that, she slams the door in your face. You can hear her mumbling something on the other side of the door, and you’re pretty sure she called you a bitch.
What you didn’t see was her walking up to the small altar in the corner of her living room, picking up one of the older books that’s been passed down to her. And by old, that thing’s ancient. Pages and pages filled with spells written in latin, along with extra notes scribbled in them that were just as faded and the original print itself.
“I’ll give you something to complain about.”
Except, for as talented as she is, she’s still a baby witch, and the chill that ran down her spine immediately after doing her spell made her realize she had no idea what she had sent you.
—
You’ve been running for hours. Out of breath. Legs heavy. No matter how fast or how far you think you’ve gotten from him, he’s constantly 2 steps behind you.
What's worse is you just know he would’ve caught you already if he wanted. But what he truly wants is this— watching you run.
It’s in that cruel, menacing laugh of his, hearing the pure enjoyment rumbling out of him as he watches you scream and cry for your life— trying so damn hard to lose him. Yet in the end, he always ends up right in your ear.
“Got you.”
It’s been weeks since the night terrors have started. Every morning’s the same, waking up terrified and drenched in your own sweat, accompanied by the irritating noise of Nishimiya’s footsteps. Except now you’re too busy feeling unsettled in the mornings to even care about them.
Life’s been off. The apartment’s been colder. Quieter. Nothing helps. Not even opening all the windows and balcony doors to let some fresh air in gets rid of the dread that manages to cling to each and every corner of your space.
Something watches you.
You’re not the superstitious kind, but you can just feel something’s there. Looming over you. Following you. Messing with you. One minute you're tearing apart your living room, trying to look for the T.V remote, the next you’re opening one of your cabinets to find it placed dead center on a stack of plates.
You walk away from the microwave to go do something, and when you come back, it’s paused, even though you know you hit start. You even watched it the first 30 seconds of warming up.
Ignoring it didn’t work. All that did was escalate things. It went from chasing you in your dreams to pining you to your bed, murmuring the craziest shit in the shell of your ear.
“Did you miss me, Princess?”
“Do you really think pretending I’m not here will make me go away?”
“Come on, just talk to me— I don’t bite.”
“Wow. Not even a ‘leave me alone’ or ‘fuck you’. How about this, give me 5 minutes and I’ll tell you where I hid your favorite panties.”
You’re ashamed to say that last one is what broke your silent streak.
Over the next few weeks, you learn some things about him. He is in fact a demon— something he actually got incredibly offended at, by the way.
He preferred the term incubus.
He also dislikes being called a sex demon, something you called him because you wanted to offend him some more, thinking maybe that would make him leave.
It didn’t. He just gave you another night terror. One that had an extra kick to it— making you swim from him in the murkiest water you’ve ever seen, instead of the usual drill, chasing you through the woods.
He thought it was hilarious.
You never called him that again.
Unfortunately, being a literal demon isn’t the worst part about him. It’s the fact that he never shuts up. He goes back and forth between flirting with you and ragebaiting you, all fucking day. You’ve tried to get rid of him. You’ve even gone back to Nishimiya and begged her to remove whatever she put on you.
At first she denied summoning him, acting like she didn’t know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until a moment of weakness, when you genuinely broke down in front of her, did she attempt to cut whatever string it was that tied him to you.
Except it wasn’t a string that tied him to you, it was more like a chain with how he threatened to curse her entire family for eternity if she went through with it.
Now she won’t even look at you, let alone speak to you. The stomping even came to an end, and you wish you could be happy about it, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when it traded itself for another problem that was substantially worse..
You never knew what it felt like to feel truly defeated until that day. It wasn’t even Nishimiya who told you that the deal was off. It was him. Laughing in your room at 1:00 am, telling you how you should’ve just made a deal with him.
That was a hard pass. You’ve never even seen him. It didn’t even make sense, you were trying to get rid of him, not get more involved.
It wasn’t just your day that was ruined, it was your entire week. Work did a number on you, which just added to all of the problems you already had from your apartment. The weekend went by way too short, the following Monday went by way too long, and by the time you got home, you wanted to scream out into the world until your lungs ruptured.
Your final straw was finding the remote in the kitchen cabinet.
Again.
“It’s a remote. Why are you so obsessed with it?!” you snapped at literally nobody, because the thing you had a problem with wasn’t even visible.
You didn’t bother putting the remote back where it belonged. You threw it at the couch, and ended up getting mad that it didn’t slip out of your hand mid throw, hit the wall, and break into a million pieces. The deep breath you took before walking back to the kitchen didn’t help your mood at all either.
Had it been a good day, you definitely would’ve been terrified of the reflection you saw on the glassdoor of your microwave.
But on a bad day…
“Oh for fucks sake— what is the point in hiding if you’re just gonna stand there and wait for me to catch you?! You want to be seen so bad!! Just fucking show yourself already!”
The change in the air was instant. You found yourself instantly regretting blowing up on the ominous shadow figure that tormented you for a living. But, you made your bed, so you stayed and faced whatever was lingering in the room.
It wasn’t as startling as you thought it’d be. He slowly materialized into the room until he was solid, like everything else around him. The only thing that was unnerving about it was having a complete stranger in your home.
“Happy?” he asks, as if he were fed up with your shit.
You don’t answer at first. You couldn’t. And it’s not like you’re scared, you’re just… shocked. In your head, he was some disgusting, slimy monster with shark teeth— he’s not. He’s tall and nothing but pure muscle, covered in thick tattoos. Pink hair, striking red eyes, and god, his face. You stared at it for longer than you should have.
“...I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself,” you end up saying, silently kicking yourself for how apologetic you sounded.
“So you just blurt out a bunch of shit when you’re mad without thinking?” he condescendingly asks, before mouthing ‘wow’ to himself.
“I– I’m in my house right now,” you sputter, in complete disbelief over how judgemental he is. “You shouldn’t even be here!”
“Good thing laws don’t apply to me,” he responds arrogantly, then changes the subject. “You should be more careful with what you invite to your space.”
“Last time I checked it was you who chose to start haunting me.”
“Last time I checked, it was blondie who summoned me.” He continued to argue with you as he made himself at home, taking a seat on the couch like he’s done a million times before.
“A fucking demon of all things,” you mumble to yourself, forgetting he didn’t like to be called that in the process.
He gives you the side eye, but you’re too busy being pissed off at Nishimiya all over again to even notice, so he lets it slide. “It’s Sukuna, by the way.”
“What?”
“My name?” he responds as if you're stupid, clearly not too fond of repeating himself even though you don’t remember asking for it in the first place.
“Oh.”
“Mhm. You should say it,” he smirks.
You weren’t sure if it was some form of power play or if he was just some horny freak that loved hearing his own name. Either way, you don’t say his name for him.
“So remind me again why you won’t let Bigfoot undo her little spell,” you cut to chase, not bothering to explain who that is. He should already know who she is by now given how much you’ve complained about her by yourself. “What are you even getting out of this?”
“Entertainment,” he casually says with a shrug.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I love watching people have breakdowns after work.” The little dig earns him a glare. “Also, Bigfoot’s not strong enough to reverse the spell she did. Only reason she was able to summon me was because I let her,” he mentions, clearly looking to continue the conversation.
You find yourself processing that for longer than you should, wondering if you even heard him correctly. “Can I ask why you let her summon you and then send you to someone else's home?”
“I dunno. Guess I just wanted to see what would happen.”
He talks about it like it’s some experiment and you’re reminded of how unlucky you are to be one of the casualties in it.
“Sounds like you have a lot of power, or whatever,” you murmur, crossing your arms and taking a seat on the couch armrest. “You can’t just go?”
“I can,” he says, as if you were undermining him. All that goes through your head is how messed up his priorities must be if that's something he gets defensive over. “Kinda bound myself to you though, so I’d rather not.”
You felt the blood drain from your face.
Then it got worse.
He wouldn’t even fully explain what a binding was. You only know he did it because he liked how quiet your apartment was. No spouse or children. No pets either. And yes, he does leave to go “feed” and fuck with peoples lives, he just does that while you’re at work.
You suggested he could go do that while you’re home, so he doesn’t bother you, and he refused— without bothering to explain, again.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just go do all that when I’m home,” you continue to argue with him, but no amount of explaining will make him budge— not until you accused him of wanting something from you.
“Well?” you say impatiently, mentally preparing yourself to listen to him list a bunch of things.
He didn’t have to think twice. “We could fuc—“
You hold a hand out, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence. “Something that doesn’t have anything to do with my mind, body, or soul.”
“Fine.” He clicks his tongue, looking at you like you had just ruined all his fun. “I want you to acknowledge me— and not just when you’re running through an imaginary forest, acting like you’re about to die or something. I want it when you’re awake, like right now.”
Your jaw really shouldn’t be on the floor right now. He’s a fucking demon, of course he’d be this insensitive to other peoples struggles.
“Did you really just invalidate weeks worth of nightmares and sleep deprivation?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Did you blatantly ignore me for weeks?” he counters, proving that he really did have an answer for everything.
“I didn’t choose this,” you remind him.
“And that’s no one else's fault but bigfoots,” he redirects the blame, trying to make it seem like you two were on the same team or something, after spending weeks chipping away at your sanity, all in the name of entertainment.
It’s un-fucking-believable. You end up taking a deep breath, trying to remember what you were even talking about in the first place. Not to mention that you needed to calm down. Something about him sent your blood pressure levels skyrocketing.
You guess one good thing about him was that he didn’t rush you or try to fill the silence, something you probably would’ve thanked him for had it been something you noticed way sooner.
“So you want acknowledgement?” you ask in a more relaxed tone, trying to meet the guy half way.
He noticed that, along with how tired you looked, and started to feel a little bad. Enough to try to match your energy at least. “Mhm. In return, no more night terrors.”
You wanted nothing more. But you also weren’t in the mood to get your hopes up with this guy. “...Didn’t you just say that you found stuff like that entertaining?"
“Oh, I do,” he says reassuringly. “You just don’t have the same amount of fear as you used to. You don’t run as fast anymore either. Takes the fun out of it.”
Well. At least he stays true to himself.
“I see.” You nod, acting as if you totally understood where he was coming from.
You were a shitty actress though, and realized he wasn’t going to let you get away with the dry tone when you saw the little smile on his face.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like being chased a little.”
The laugh that came out of you was the kind an overworked employee gives their boss the day after they've started applying for new jobs.
“I really didn’t.”
With how crazy that laugh was, he believed you. He also looked at the clock, hoping it was an appropriate time for someone to sleep. You needed it.
“Nine’s is a good time to go to bed, no?” he casually asks, but you knew what he was doing.
It was a relief, honestly. “It is. I think I might just sleep early.” You probably looked a little rude getting up as fast as you did, but you were starting to feel crazy just talking to him. A full night’s rest might fix that, but if it doesn’t, at least you’ll actually be rested. “So you just… want me to say hi whenever I see you?”
“No.” He doesn’t bother to hide how much he hated the idea. “Just stop acting like I don’t exist.”
“Ok.” Easy enough. He’ll probably be invisible or whatever most of the time anyways, so it wouldn’t be an issue. Right before you walk away, you ask one last question. “You won’t be whispering weird things to me anymore either, right?”
He snorts, “you think that’s as bad as the night terrors?”
There’s a bit of hesitation on your end when you realize he thinks you’re joking. It’s not until you stop and give him a concerned look when he realizes you’re dead serious.
“I do… that’s why I was wondering if those will come to an end, too.” It sounded so awkward coming out of you. You hoped Sukuna would say something in return that would smooth it out, but he made it ten times worse. It was a yes or no question, he didn’t have to drag the time out for as long as he did.
It’s not until you decide to show signs of your growing impatience through an exasperated sigh when he finally says something.
“Only if you say my name.”
“That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want.” He wasn’t smug about it this time, if anything he sounded awfully sincere. “Let me hear you say it once and I’ll leave your sleep alone.”
Even if he didn’t have the smirk he had on earlier, you were still reluctant to say it. It’s the second time he’s asked in under an hour. “Why do you want me to say it so bad though?”
“You said you’d acknowledge me more, didn’t you?”
“Yeah...”
“Then say it for me.”
—
He drove you insane at first.
That was the goal, to annoy you so much that you’d break and beg him to stop. Seeing people in mental agony was just something he liked. Not that he ever does, he just brings up what you could do to get him to stop.
He pitches it like it’s a sale. From romanticizing what he does, to promising that he’d make you feel really good, he never ran out of reasons as to why you should just give into him. You remember staring at him for a few seconds. Dumbfounded and struggling to wrap your head around what just came out of his mouth.
“I’m not going to let you feed from me.”
His pause was much longer. Not that the rejection left him offended or anything. It was worse, he was confused. Concerned, even— looking at you like there was genuinely something wrong with you.
“You—” He paused again, scratching the back of his head as a little laugh escaped him, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m not letting you feed from me,” you repeated yourself, sounding more irritated that time around. “Do you not realize how draining it is to be bound to someone? Let me enjoy what’s left of my sanity.”
All he hears is you complaining about having to be around him and scoffs. He wasn’t that bad to be around.
“It doesn't even work like that.”
“No?” You turn and ask, getting his hopes up for a moment, thinking you’d give him a chance to explain. Then you let out a disappointed sigh. “Actually— don’t even answer that.”
He dropped the subject, but that wasn’t the end of it.
But it didn’t bother you as much as it should’ve. It probably would’ve if he had stayed more mysterious, hiding in the shadows and all. But not now. No longer the unnerving monster in your dream, he was your annoying, unwanted roommate.
And maybe that’s where you fucked up— you stopped seeing him as the boogeyman. Now he’s just… there. He was wanted too. You grew to enjoy having him around.
Even when he’d randomly pop up outside of your apartment.
“Another bag of apples?” He begins to scold you in the middle of the grocery store. Nobody can hear or see him, just you. “Just go grab 2 or 3 of them. You’ve already wasted the last 2 bags.”
An irritated sigh leaves your lips as you set them down. You hated whenever he was right.
“Everyone’s gonna think you’re a brat if you keep pouting like that.”
No, they’re actually gonna think you’re psychotic for the way you’ll sometimes murmur and laugh to yourself. And for all the times you’ve looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with nothing. You could tell them who you were talking to, but the ones who would believe you would be healthcare workers, but they’d probably start asking if you’ve been feeling like someone's been out to get you on most days.
“The coffee you get is on sale by the way,” he mentions, trailing right behind you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to be nice and all, but it never usually gets you anywhere.
“You look like a freak whispering to yourself like that.”
“Fuck off.”
“Arguing with yourself makes you look even worse.” He laughs at his own little joke, his favorite part was that nobody else could hear him except for you.
There were the occasional, and gifted, individuals out there who could see him. It’s usually the ones that look at you like you're walking around with a machete in public. You can’t really blame them, he looks out of place in grocery stores and coffee shops.
It must be odd to see him trail behind you, but it’s mainly you getting judged at that point. I mean, come on. There surely must be something wrong with you if you choose to be around him.
Do you not have any real friends?
The ones that your cashier can see. The ones that you can talk to as you set your produce down on the conveyor belt. The ones you can turn to and ask for spare change if you want to hold on to an extra bill.
“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” the said cashier asks.
You smile and say, “yeah.”
She’ll never know how hard it was for you to keep a straight face when Sukuna started to mess with you, muttering, “she never does,” in your ear, acting as if he was tired of you making people think you had your life together.
Wouldn’t he still count since it was all meant to put a smile on you?
Shouldn’t that be enough?
—
He thought you were dead once.
Between the way he felt about you and the fact that he thought human beings were weak, it could’ve been an overreaction, but that didn’t matter. He still felt it— all of that dread, just tearing through his chest.
It started off as a small cold and falling asleep on the couch. Then the next couple days all morphed into one big, blurry memory. The only things you remembered were that you were cold and tired.
So fucking tired.
Not even falling off the damn couch woke you up. It was Sukuna, who had been shaking you for what felt like forever for him, that finally pulled a mumble out of you. The only reason why you hadn’t woken up sooner was because he wasn’t trying to give you whiplash.
He was getting there though.
“Hey.” His voice faded in and out at first, but you heard the desperation. The anger. “Fucking get up already— Hey!”
You eventually whined. Had the nerve to be all pouty, and that pissed him off, but that was better than whatever he was just a minute ago. He didn’t say anything at first, just tried to catch his breath.
“Scared the shit out of me.” His chest continued to rise and fall, in disbelief over how bad that was. How bad he felt. The way he was starting to fucking lose it.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyes not even open.
“You,” he scoffed, still holding on to your upper half. “Thought your dumbass fell and hit your head.”
“M’fine— just cold,” you mumbled, barely registering the ache in your bones. Or how worried he was. “Think I’m sick.”
“No shit,” he snapped, then continued to curse under his breath as he scooped you up into his arms.
You tried arguing something, but the words just came out all groggy and incoherent, and were met with silence as he carried you back into your room. The only time you weren’t was when he heard a little, “so mean,” but it was just to laugh.
There was only one blanket on your bed when he finally set you down. The rest were still in your living room. He was back before you even realized he left and soon had all of them layered on top of you, which wasn’t enough apparently since the shivering didn’t come to a complete stop.
“Still cold?”
“No.”
“You’re still shivering.”
No answer. He didn’t care to pull one out of you either, and decided to just get in bed with you. He thought there’d be some resistance when he pulled you on top of him, but you practically clung to him and tucked your face into the crook of his neck.
“Better?”
You let out a hum, nodding against him. It wasn’t weird. It didn’t feel wrong. Not even when he wrapped his arms around you and slowly rubbed your back. The shivering stopped shortly after, letting you finally relax against him.
“Sukuna?”
His name sounded so sweet coming from you. He almost entertained it, especially when you never ask for him like that. A palm circled over your back to show he was still okay with how you two were laying.
And then he decided he was fine with never knowing what you were going to say, especially with how delirious you were earlier.
“Go to sleep.”
You two don’t talk about that day, even when things between you were normal after.
There wasn’t any change, no weird tension. You were still comfortable around him, he still acted his usual way around you. It’s just not something you two talk about.
That’s just how it went when things that were out of the ordinary happened, which started happening a lot.
Like that one time you learned he can sense when people are “in need”.
It drove him up the wall. He was quick with you at first, harsher than usual, up until he couldn’t take it anymore and through an exhausted sigh, said, “you gotta take care of that.”
You froze and turned to see him running a hand down his face, looking incredibly pained. “Take care of what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he groaned, as if he were over you playing dumb.
A conversation that ended with your back hitting your mattress and his head finding itself in between your thighs. You were falling apart just seconds after burying his face in your cunt like he was fucking starving. You were a sobbing mess— knees pinned to your chest, squirming under him as he continued to obscenely eat you out.
“Oh my god–” you whined, feeling the grip on the backs of your thighs grow tighter, “Sukuna— f-fuck–”
“That’s it— keep crying my name like that,” he groaned against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
As if he didn’t already know from the labored breathing or the way your thighs trembled under his hold. Or the way your back arched off the bed whenever he’d suck your clit. He was shameless in the way he just wanted to make you cum over and over again.
You’re still surprised at how things went back to normal after something so intense, but it did. For the most part.
You thought about it more than you should. There were times where you’d even be overcome with guilt— it was something so wrong yet it felt so good.
You never brought it up.
He never tried again.
Sometimes you wonder if it’s because he knew that’s how you felt, and that he didn’t want to be told his existence was wrong again. It was easy for you to tell him that in the beginning, but then you went and wove him into your reality. Now you catch yourself before mentioning him when people ask how your life has been— every single time.
You remind yourself he’s not real.
Then you go home and forget all over again.
—
You stopped remembering your dreams after Sukuna stopped the night terrors. It’s something you don’t bring up, and chalk it up to being some sort of side effect. You don’t even know if you have them anymore, which was fine— can’t be a problem if it didn’t actually exist.
Until it started to seep into reality.
You started to feel off in the mornings. Unusually warm, feeling most of the heat in your cheeks. Your heart would be pounding in your chest, yet not one anxious thought in your head. You felt out of place, disoriented— like someone rearranged your brain in your sleep without telling you.
It went downhill fast.
One morning turned into several, feeling more feverish than the day before. Your breaking point was waking up in a pool of your own slick one morning— feeling so needy that it hurt, but too sensitive to move, leaving you with no other choice but to wait for it to pass.
You wanted to cry, but then Sukuna decided that he was going to appear at the worst time ever, so you sucked it up.
You had a feeling that whatever was happening to you was his fault, you just had no way to prove it. You didn’t want to prove it either. Knowing how smug he’d be from seeing how pathetic you look right now, talking to him at all was the last thing you wanted to do.
Instead of acknowledging him, you turn away— curling up and holding a pillow.
He lets out a laugh, then appears right back in front of you, laying on the empty side of bed while propping himself up with an elbow.
“Rough morning?” he asks rather innocently, pretending to care as he eyes traced over your body.
“Fuck off.”
“Rude,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s no way to talk to a concerned friend.”
“Not when the said friend is at fault,” you murmur back.
“That’s quite an accusation.” He lets out a low laugh, leaving you even more suspicious of him. “And what did I do exactly?”
“You got me sick with something.” The complaint ends up coming out as a whine, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into, avoiding looking at him completely.
“Did I now?”
“Mhm.”
“We both know you’re not sick, princess. Yeah, your skin’s feeling all hot right now, but let’s not act like you haven’t spent the whole morning squeezing your thighs together,” he smirks at the way your eyes widen, reaching forward to run the back of his finger down your cheek. “Kinda hate to break it to ‘ya, but a lot of this is you.”
“What does that even mean?” As irritated as you are at the moment, you just sound like you want to cry, which was fair with how vague his answer was.
He takes a moment to come up with an explanation, one that would make you less mad at him since he did have part in it. Trying to find another way to say ‘I planted the tiniest idea in your head and you made it so much fucking worse’, but also wanting it to make enough sense so you don’t ask a bunch of questions.
He’s really not in the mood for that right now.
“I got bored and entered one of your dreams— nothing crazy. Just wanted to say hi, fuck with you a little bit,” he starts to admit, and to your surprise, you actually believe him. “But then you went and made it weird after you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me.”
“I did not,” you finally look at him, but it’s a glare.
He looks you dead in the eyes. “You did.”
To his surprise, you didn’t try to argue with him on it. You seemed too worried about your little problem.
Two things come to mind— you must have it really bad right now if you’re too tired to have an attitude, and that there’s probably a lot that he can get away with saying to you right now, so it’s probably best to tell the truth now.
Even though it was really fucking hard.
“Anyways, you were being really sweet. Like really fucking sweet. So I thought, ‘this is new, I’ll stick around for a little longer,’ so I did.”
You don’t react to that much either aside from an eye roll, so he goes on to tell you more.
“You were being all giggly and shit— talking about… whatever you were talking about. I just sat there and listened. You were sitting on my lap by the way,” he casually adds, figuring it wouldn’t be the truth if he left out little details like that. You’re looking at him like he’s a dumbass for letting that happen, and in hindsight, he absolutely was. “You were super touchy too, like rubbing on my chest and kissing on my neck—”
You cut him off, “what the fuck?”
“I thought the same thing,” he says in defense, acting just as apalled as you. It doesn’t do much.
“Why would you let that happen?!”
Did you not just hear him? He was having the time of his fucking life in there. He doesn’t say that though, and instead points at you. “It was your dream. I can’t control what you do in there.”
You're massaging the side of your temple at this point, more disappointed than embarrassed, hoping that's the worst of it.
“Anyways, I ended saying a couple things to you and all hell broke loose from there.”
That immediately makes your stomach drop. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. He knows he fucked up, it’s practically written all over his face. “...what did you say to me?”
Apparently he wasn’t thinking straight, and ended up out-slutting you by talking about all the things he wanted to do to you. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he stopped at that, but he didn’t, and accidentally sealed the deal by asking, “I bet you’d like that, huh?”
And you said yes, like a dumbass.
It didn’t just plant the idea in your head either. He was so descriptive with his words that it also ended up putting an image of you two fucking in your head, and it’s been playing over and over again in your subconscious ever since.
That really wasn’t his intention. He brushed it off at first, thinking it wasn’t going to do much— he was wrong.
It was so fucking bad.
It wasn’t just you that got affected, it got him too. He has been going through it. There’s a part of you that likes the idea a little too much and it keeps reaching out and pulling at him. You weren’t doing it on purpose, you didn’t even know, so he fights it. Every time you tug at his senses, he ignores it. It’s the worst when you’re asleep, hence the issues you’ve been waking up with.
“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” As expected, you were annoyed. Not fuming though, which came as a surprise to him.
“It was a mistake,” he swears, holding off on saying that it was more your fault than his. He did not expect you to think about his dick this much.
“Can you reverse it or something?”
He snorts at the question and it almost sends you spiraling. It wasn’t because he found it funny, but because he’s already tried. It usually works in most cases, just not this one, because whether you want to believe it or not, you really like him.
“You can’t, but it’ll wear off over time.” Not that he’s planning on letting it fully wear off on its own, he’s reversing it the moment it starts to weaken.
“So I just have to suffer through this until then?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he grumbles, trying to hide the irritation he suddenly felt. It wouldn’t be that bad if there was some part of you that wanted him, yet you continue to ignore it— your thoughts and desires, even your fears.
He knows all about your fears.
He knows how you stay up sometimes, questioning your own sanity, if you’re just crazy and he’s one of the symptoms. That you think of him as the imaginary friend and how you fucking hate that. You hate how you can’t tell others about him too. He sees the way you look at him, he already knows how much you wish he was real. Maybe then you’d stop feeling guilty for choosing him over going out.
He understands and knows he doesn’t have the right to be mad, but he’s getting there from having to fight off the urges you send to him.
“Staying away from each other would probably work.”
It catches you off guard.
You weren’t expecting it to hit you as hard as it did. You find yourself having to pretend like it didn’t after realizing he wasn’t taking it back.
He sees the hesitation in your face. The confusion. The biggest of all was the disappointment— like you’re wondering why did he have to go and say that.
He doesn’t know why, but still, he doesn’t take it back. You never got to have a say when he bound himself to you, maybe one day you’ll realize this was him apologizing in the only way he knew he could by giving you the choice.
“How much would it help?”
“Enough. You wouldn’t be spending your entire morning in bed,” he says, trying to sound optimistic about it. Not that it works. He keeps trying to meet your eyes and there’s a dull look in them telling him that you’ve mostly left by now— an attempt to protect what he hasn’t hurt in the last 5 minutes.
There was a lump in your throat and the only way to get rid of it was to look past him.
The choice was obvious, but you still think about it harder than you should. Trying to find a way to agree with him. Looking for reasons to justify an answer that was already right. It was logical.
You somehow ended up in fantasy land some time ago, you had your fun, now it was time to go home. It’s harder than you think— telling yourself that none of this was actually real, that there’s nothing to be sad about, that you knew this day would eventually come.
It’s okay to not want this to end, but it was going to happen.
Don’t be dumb.
Just do it already.
“We should just do that then,” you quietly say.
“Alright,” he hums, not showing you much aside from the fact that it’s something that he’ll accept.
Making the right choice doesn’t make you feel any better. The ache in your chest continues to build. You hated how you wanted more than just a simple “alright.” You wanted to know what he thought, how he felt. Why was that so easy for him?
He wasn’t supposed to matter this much.
Sukuna wasn’t in a hurry to leave and lays on the bed with you a little longer. You’re still curled up on your side, and he doesn’t think you’re aware of how unhappy you look as you start to zone out, probably beating yourself up over it.
He’s not happy about this either. He wasn’t sure how this conversation would end when he decided he was going to tell you what happened, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He didn’t think he’d be the one to make the suggestion either, let alone that he’d stick with it. But there ended up being a good reason for it in the end, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel very guilty about it.
It’s okay if it ends like this.
He reaches over and gently rests his hand on your head, pulling you out of whatever train of thought you were having. The stoic face he had on before was gone when you finally looked back at him.
He looks satisfied.
“Not a lot of people get to wiggle their way out of bindings, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood by poking some fun at you one last time. “Especially mine.”
“What an honor,” you murmur, clearly not in the mood.
“The highest.” His lips twitch into a smile— can’t say he’s mad about someone feeling sad about seeing him leave for once. The cheesy response doesn’t put a smile on you or anything, but it makes you ease up on the sulking. It was enough for him.
He doesn’t say anything else after that. He just keeps his eyes on you, etching all the little details about you into his memory, knowing this will be the last time he’ll get to do it. It’s not just your face and features that he tries to remember, but also how you let him stay around a little longer so he could do this.
There’s certain things that Sukuna just doesn’t do, and he’s accepted that he’s not as fixed as he thinks he is. It was easy for you to move him after making him remember that he was a human at one point too— a fact that he had forgotten long ago until you made him feel like one again.
He has no regrets, despite his time being cut short with you. It was bittersweet, but he was satisfied.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head as his final goodbye, and when you opened your eyes, he was gone.
—
A month has gone by since you parted ways.
You tried to enjoy it at first— the stillness, the uninterrupted silence. Then after a couple days, you started wondering if the apartment had always felt empty as it did. If it had always felt as cold as it did. You tried to ignore it, and blamed it on your miserable mornings.
A week passed by. The side effects were still there, but they no longer got in the way of your life. You couldn’t place the blame on them anymore when you realized you still didn’t feel any better. Everything was still stale and lifeless.
It didn’t feel like sadness, just exhaustion. You found it hard to bring yourself to do the little things like walking to the store or answering the phone. It felt like everything you came into contact with just took from you, sleep was the only break you had.
If you had to be honest with yourself, there was a part of you that thought he’d come back at first. He was stubborn, never listened. Even if he didn’t have a good reason to come back, he’d make one up.
Then you realized you were waiting for something that was never promised, and wished it didn’t take as long as it did. You needed to get over it and move on, but you had no idea where to start. It wasn’t like you could talk about it.
I miss the ghost that used to haunt my apartment, people would look at you like you were fucking crazy. You doubt a therapist would cut it either. It was hard enough to find one that you clicked with, let alone one that wouldn’t lie about believing you.
Writing in a journal hasn’t worked— you swear it makes it worse. You had a pen in hand, ready to write, only for 30 minutes to go by and realize nothing’s been written down. You just stared at the blank page and started zoning out.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” a familiar voice grumbles.
You turn around and immediately freeze.
It’s Sukuna.
He’s here, standing in your kitchen with a scowl. He’s irritated— rubbing his eyes at first, and when that wasn’t enough, he slid his hands down his face, nearly ripping his skin off in the process.
“You have got to stop thinking about me so much— it’s driving me fucking nuts. How the hell do you get worse after a month?”
“Wait— what?” you breathe, still trying to process that he was here.
“Your thoughts, I can feel them. My fucking head hurts,” he throws his arms out as he continues to complain, as if he never left. “And christ— the fucking daydreams— what the hell does that help, huh?”
You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head. “I don’t—”
“They’re never normal,” he rudely cuts you off. “You made me die in a car crash once and started crying like you didn’t have control over that shit!”
You open your mouth to explain, but you quickly close it after realizing that you look crazy either way.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he grumbles out, ending his rant right there since he’s gotten enough off his chest. “You’re life's normal now, you’re supposed to be happy— that’s why I left.”
“...I’m sorry,” you say barely above a whisper, still shocked at his return.
He scoffs as he walks towards you. An apology wasn’t going to fix a headache that lasted for an entire month.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” he mutters, reaching out to you and pulling you into his arms. The hug catches you off guard, yet you still accept it, and wrap your arms around him. Once your head leans against his chest, you practically melt into him and let yourself relax.
“I missed you.” It was more of a complaint coming from you, as if you never wanted to go through the awful experience of missing him again.
“No shit,” he mutters back, resting his head on top of yours.
You stay like that with him for a while, but eventually go back to the room. Neither of you say much for the first hour. After you raged war on Sukuna’s mind for an entire month, he seemed more than fine with laying down in silence, mindlessly tracing your back while you laid your head on his chest.
You talk a little bit about what you’ve been up to, mainly complaints, but he still listened, figuring it was fair since you listened to him earlier. And then it naturally led to the conversation that you should’ve had last month.
“Are you staying?” you're not very shy when you ask, it sounded like you were expecting a yes from him.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” he says, having to hold back a laugh from the look you shot at him for making a joke at the wrong time. You clearly wanted reassurance, which is hilarious given how you're already clinging to him like a koala, but he gives you some more anyways. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You smile at him and he thinks that’s the end of the questions. He was wrong, but they were good ones.
“I still think this is kind of weird though— being with you and all,” you say, not sounding too concerned at the point. It's more just casual talk for now. “Are you just gonna watch me get old?”
“If you want,” he responds, not too concerned either. “You don’t have to grow old though, there’s rituals for that.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“What kind of rituals?” You sit up and rest your chin on your palm, curious to learn more.
“Messy ones,” he grins, wondering if he should even go into detail just yet with how gory some of them are. “Can’t remember any exact ones right now, but there’s always some blood and broken bones involved.”
You point at yourself, “my blood and broken bones?”
“Maybe,” he says casually, running his finger across your jaw. “I doubt you’d have to though, you’ll probably turn into one over time.”
“Wait, so… no gory ritual?”
“No gore,” he lazily says, his mood changes fast from just thinking about it. “This one’s fun. Easy too.”
“Yeah right.” You stifle a laugh, already getting what he means by that— though you still don’t think it’s as easy as he makes it out to be. “Everybody would’ve done it by now it was.”
“It’s the slowest way since you gotta do it a bunch of times, but I swear it’s easy. Especially for you,” he casually says, despite the air starting to thicken between you.
He’s the one who’s doing it.
Your heart starts to pick up, getting louder by the second. You feel his hand sliding down your back until it’s on your ass, then pulls you up closer to him, all while the familiar feeling of heat starts to surge through your veins.
“Let me show you.”
It takes him a few minutes to turn you into a whining mess.
He manipulates the air and floods your senses, bringing you back to that same feverish state you were in over a month ago. It’s just as unbearable as last time, almost making you question why this is something you agreed to.
Then he starts to fill the room with the obscene sounds of him fucking you.
“Look at you— makin’ a mess already.” He’s got your back pressed against his chest, holding you in place as he pounded into you. He’s right next to your ear, being as filthy as ever, as if he didn’t already have you reeling from the way he kept hitting your sweet spot every time he drove his hips forward.
“Feels good, huh?” he taunts you, you can feel him smiling against the shell of your ear. “Told you this was fun”
“So fucking good,” you whine, clinging on to the arm that’s keeping you up while taking every inch he gives you. Your skin’s burning hot, there’s chills running through your body, slick running down your thighs. The stretch is insane, and his cock just slides in and out of you like it’s nothing.
Sukuna nudges your legs further apart so he can fuck deeper into you, soothing that ache you feel in your core. There’s a wet schlik every time he draws his hips back and each thrust grows louder, messier. Your moans start to pick up and he lets out a low, breathy laugh. “Is that where you want me, princess? That makin’ you feel better?”
“Yeah, need you right there.” You’re as desperate as you sound. Everything’s so intense, yet you can never reach full relief, he just keeps you right at the edge of it.
And he loves it, how fucked out and helpless you are, how the only thing you want right now is his cock stuffed inside of you.
He’s still drilling into you when you feel a hand start to snake down your belly. Your breath hitches as it gets lower and lower, until the pads of his fingers find your clit, making you fucking lose it when he starts rubbing.
He lets out a low groan when you start squeezing around him. “Fuck, that’s it, let me hear you scream for me.”
And you do, overwhelmed by the pressure that starts to build up— fast. Your legs tremble and vision starts to blur, nearly going limp from the way he begins to work the orgasm out of you. He’s still in your ear, talking you through it in that rough voice of his. “Can feel how how fuckin’ close you are. Go ahead— let go and cum for me.”
It only takes a few more thrusts for it to hit you so hard that it rips a cry out of you. You start gushing around him, and he continues to ride you through it while his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier, just hammering through your walls as he chases his own release. Guttural groans leaving his lips as he starts filling you up with so much cum that it starts to spill out.
Everything goes quiet after. You’re still trembling, struggling to catch your breath as you slowly start to come back to reality. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel Sukuna lean back and slowly pull out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a satisfied look on his face.
“You’ll be just like me in no time.”
notes: i know nothing about incubus' and just went off random stuff i found on google
synopsis: you thought you were doing a good deed by taking in the biggest problem resident at the hybrid rescue you work for! but now you're stuck waking up to a six foot plus tiger hybrid who steals your panties and snores on your chest. good thing it's only temporary...right?
pairing: tiger hybrid!sukuna x f!reader
wc: 4.7k
content: mdni, smut smut smut!, porn with plot, hybrid au, he's got fuzzy ears and a tail, he's handsy and huge, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected piv sex, knotting, mating bites, shower sex, sukuna packing a massive cock what else is new, creampie, degradation, dirty talk, possessive sukuna, mates
a/n: this was a commission for the lovely @stardust-sprinkler hehe <3 KUNA ART BY THE AMAZING @alukaforyou !
“Can you please come in? Sukuna’s…”
Bitten another staff member? Clawed up their calves just because they brought him the wrong food while he was in heat? Threatened to slice one of the other hybrids in half?
You’d gotten enough of these phone calls since you started working at your local hybrid rescue to take a guess at what would come out of your coworker’s mouth next, already rolling out of bed and rubbing your eyes as you flicked on your lamp, internally groaning and grumbling as you listened to the latest issues that always seemed to surround the most feral resident of the shelter.
But still, twenty minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot in pajama pants and a hoodie, shutting your car off and spinning your keys around your finger as you walked down the dimly-lit sidewalk, bracing yourself for whatever you’d find inside.
Shoko was standing by the front door, white vet’s coat swaying in the wind and a cigarette delicately placed between her lips as she puffed out a little ring of smoke. Nodding at you as you drew near, one corner of her mouth curling up all crooked before she plucked the cigarette back out, “Good luck.”
Great.
You already knew you’d need it.
It wasn’t like you knew when you took the job that you were basically signing up to play Sukuna whisperer – you hadn’t even wanted anything to do with the bulky beast that was technically still mostly human when you saw him through the thick one-sided glass during your initial interview. But from the first evening you shyly stepped into his room to feed him, anxiously glancing at his broad frame curled up in the corner while you offered him dinner and softly introduced yourself, he had given you a quick glance over and apparently decided you were the most tolerable staff member.
There didn’t appear to be a rhyme or reason.
He just picked you.
A miracle, your boss said. Like you didn’t hear your coworkers whispering to each other that they were so glad it wasn’t them.
The halls were empty, oddly quiet as your footsteps padded down various corridors, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as you scanned your keycard to get through to the section that was reserved for the more…wild hybrid variants. Bears, wolves, snow leopards, not your typical bunny or cat most people would choose to take home. These days, some hybrids even lived and worked on their own, had the same rights as humans.
But a few couldn’t help their more, ah, animalistic instincts.
With Sukuna?
You couldn’t exactly tell what was his hybrid half and what was just his personality.
Sighing as you found yourself standing outside his room, pausing to peek through the now cracked window, watching Sukuna sitting on his too-small bed, back against the concrete wall with his muscled arms folded across his chest, completely fucking naked as his furry ears bristled in irritation.
He was attractive, annoyingly so, enough to remind you every time you saw him why the hybrid population kept increasing every year, but you as quick as the thought floated up, you shoved it back down.
You knocked twice on the door before scanning your card again, peeking inside before stepping in, feeling his stare on you before you looked up at the man of the hour. Or well, tiger of the hour.
“Took you long enough,” he tch-ed, a low growl escaping his throat as he sauntered to his feet.
“What did you do this time?” You wryly asked, nose scrunching up as you let your eyes scan the rest of his room. Someone must have tried to toss some toys in, as if he was a cub instead of fully grown, the remains of a plush mouse scattered across the floor.
“The blonde tried to bathe me,” he indignantly scoffed, head held proudly up. You were tempted to tell him that he had a perfectly good bathroom already attached to his room – complete with a shower and tub he could use to wash himself, if he wasn’t so high and mighty to insist on being babied. Or, according to his perspective, treated like the king of this place he frequently insisted he hated so much.
You exhaled, shutting your eyes for just a second to massage your temples in an attempt to stall the headache brewing behind them only to open them and find him standing six inches away. Looking down at you.
“I told her you’re the only one that can touch me,” he muttered, low and almost lethal. His hand reached out to skim over your bicep, barely touching but still enough for you to feel the pressure behind his fingertips. “She sent in the fucking vet to try to sedate me.”
“And how did that go?” You sarcastically asked, as if you didn’t have a pretty decent inkling.
“Well, they called you, didn’t they?” He sharply retorted, cocking his head to the side, jaw clenched as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.
He got what he wanted.
And you got to scrub a ridiculously oversized man in a tub for twenty minutes while he complained about not having enough bath salts, rubbing a sponge over his ridiculously ripped back muscles as he muttered about how awful everyone else here was. Grumbling with gritted teeth while your hands ran over his spine, damp sleeves rolled up over your elbows as you traced shapes along his strong arms, his slightly musky scent still invading your nostrils no matter how much soap you used.
It wasn’t bad, even if it was strong.
All masculine and warm, whatever pheromones he was putting off having a funny effect on your head the longer you knelt so close to him, sighing as you reached into the water and pulled up the drain.
“Bath time’s over,” you muttered softly, standing up and grabbing a thick towel to hold out for him, making a point to not look past the thick patch of his happy trail when he wrapped it around his waist, even if you couldn’t not notice the way his damp tail dripped water behind him after he got out.
“Where are you goin’?” He growled when you started to walk back out, his claws poking out in protest as your hand paused just before you could scan your key card to get out.
“Home,” you muttered. “You better have some clothes on when I come back.”
The shelter sure spent fucking enough on custom robes big enough to fit him.
He snarled, two seconds from making a snide comment, but you slipped out before he could.
You were ready to crawl back into your own bed, curl up and get some sleep, maybe message your boss before you passed out that you’d be a little late in the morning since you had to come in overnight. Let yourself get an extra hour or two of rest before you had to deal with him again.
Except, uh, your boss was already waiting for you in the lobby, Yaga leaning back against the receptionist desk and grimacing at the fluorescent lights as you stopped and stared.
“Is everything okay?” You blinked a few times, just for him to fix you in a solemn stare.
And still, while your brain scrambled to come up with a reason for him being here too, you didn’t expect what left his mouth now as he jutted his thumb in the direction you came from.
“Do you think you could foster him?”
No. No, there was no way-
Except, um, apparently, there was a way when they offered you a hefty bonus and a few days off, and Shoko slipped a strong sedative in his breakfast so you could transfer him from his room back to your place – which you promptly had to Sukuna proof.
You expected him to throw a fit when he eventually woke up, to try and break through your front door and escape.
But he just sniffed the air slowly before he even lazily opened up his dark eyes to glance around your apartment, a crooked smile curling up as he centered his stare on you.
“So I’m your problem now?”
Was it too late to take him back?
Trade in your annoying tiger hybrid for a fluffy housecat?
In your personal experience, all felines were funny in that they could listen perfectly fine – they just didn’t care.
And Sukuna was no exception.
Shredding your curtains when you went out without telling him, sinking his sharp teeth into your pillows after you made him floss between them, turning your couch into his personal little nest and dragging your clothes from your closet into it. Judging the comfort of your blankets and commenting on how boring it was being here, acting like he’d rather be back at the shelter as he ate half the food in your fridge in a few hours.
He was insufferable and spoiled and a million other awful adjectives you could assign him, but it wasn’t totally terrible to come home from your shifts to someone warm. Who’d begrudgingly let you scratch behind his ears and stroke his pretty, pink hair. You took him to the park as much as you could, ignoring the pointed stares you’d receive and the people who muttered that he should have a muzzle on while he begrudgingly stayed by your side.
It wasn’t like you had a backyard he could stretch his limbs or lounge in.
And two months in, you hadn’t exactly envisioned starting off your mornings with fur in your mouth and the weight of a full-grown man on your chest, but you guessed there were worse things.
You might even miss him when all this came to an end, which, according to the text message you woke up to from Yaga, might be sooner than you think. Some rich guy had apparently called asking about him, claiming he owned thirty acres of land he used to house exotic hybrids and wanted to add Sukuna to his collection.
Now you just had to figure out how to tell him that he might have a new owner.
You tried to sneak over to the bathroom after carefully extracting yourself from underneath him, bare feet padding out while you glanced over your shoulder at the slumbering mass in your bed, a little bit of drool leaking down his lips as he snored on your pillow.
He almost looked peaceful like this.
As if you hadn’t gotten back from work last night to discover a stash of your panties underneath the daybed he’d currently taken over in your spare room. And the, um, dried substance they seemed to be coated in you’d desperately been trying not to think too hard about.
Okay, perhaps he was closer to a perverted roommate than a pet.
But you couldn’t scrub out the guilt that seemed to cling to your skin in the shower, hot water running over your body as you sighed to yourself and debated on how you’d break the news when he had started to settle in here.
At least there he’d be able to have the space he needed, time outdoors, probably better nutrition than what you could afford to keep in your fridge and pantry, even with the added provisions your work provided for him. He was about as antisocial as it came – but there might be other hybrids there that he could actually stand being around. Closer to his spot on the food chain instead of the other ones he usually sneered down at.
His new owner might even treat him like the king he thought he was.
The shower curtain was abruptly pulled back, your arm rushing to cover up your tits, but his eyes were just on yours, his sharp nose scrunched up in a familiar scowl as he grunted good morning, his clothes already stripped off as he stepped in after you.
“What is your problem?” You huffed at him, but he just yawned, toothpaste stuck to his bottom lip as he reached past you to grab the bottle of specialty hybrid shampoo you bought for him.
“Didn’t you tell me yesterday we have to conserve water or some shit?” He grunted, lathering up his hair like his rock hard dick wasn’t out and poking you in the thigh.
“I didn’t mean-” You started to groan, lips pressed together in a flustered frown. Swallowing hard as you struggled to keep your stare somewhere appropriate. You’d like to pretend your relationship was entirely platonic. That it fit perfectly in the boundaries of what it was supposed to.
Where the only spot of your heart he occupied was pure. That the growing intimacy you’d been ignoring was innocent.
It was getting a lot fucking harder to believe it when he felt more and more like a person to you every day. More human.
“You were takin’ too long,” he added, moving over to bump his hip into yours to start hogging the hot water for himself.
You stepped back, goosebumps trailing down your arms once you were out of the stream, holding your breath as you debated on ripping the bandaid off while he was washing himself for once.
“Someone wants to buy you,” you heard yourself say, unsure of what emotion it was in your voice as he suddenly went still, tail twitching as his shoulders straightened. “Um, adopt, I guess.”
He turned his head, just barely, enough for you to catch his nasty side-eye and locked jaw.
“That’s not fucking funny,” he growled.
“Yaga texted me,” you continued, careful to keep your tone steady. “Said some guy with a ton of acres wants to take you in. Guess he like, collects rare-”
“No.”
“No?” You incredulously repeated. “You can’t just-”
“I’m not going to be some fucking breeding stock for an asshole who wants to stick me in an enclosure,” he declared, your mouth hanging open at the wild assumption he jumped to just from a couple sentences.
“Who said anything about breeding?” You gaped, eyebrows arching up as you stopped yourself from stomping your foot.
“You’re delusional if you don’t think that’s the only reason someone would want a problem hybrid like me,” he half-glared at you, molars grinding as you tried to come up with a reason to argue with him.
“I-” You stopped yourself, blinking too hard and fast.
“Tell them no,” he spat the word back out, thick brows furrowed together tightly as he shut off the water.
“What if someone else wants to-” You started, and his whole body twisted around, his arms suddenly caging you in as you shrank back against the cold walls of the shower, all the air in your lungs ripped from you as he pinned you in.
“I’m yours,” he hissed. “You can’t just toss me out like I’m some fuckin’ stray.”
You were pretty sure you were gawking, grasping at straws to push him away when heat was pooling and simmering in the pit of your stomach.
“They’ll be able to give you a better life than-”
His mouth crashed into yours, fingers tangling in your hair while he shut up your stuttered gasp with his tongue slipping past your lips.
He didn’t ask for permission.
But maybe it was because he didn’t need to.
Because when it boiled down to it, you’d let him into your home. Your shower. Let him slice and carve out half of your heart, even when you knew he’d probably just chew it up and spit it out.
“Mmph, S’kuna,” you tried to breathe, placing a damp hand on his bare chest, fingers pressing down as he just kissed you again, struck by how strange it was to taste your own toothpaste on him, smell your soap on his skin and see the strawberry-scented shampoo suds running down his chiseled chest. His cute fuzzy ears standing up straight between his wet strands of pink hair.
“You want me to stop?” He dared between kisses, moving down to your jaw, painting your skin with greedy wet sucks as he dragged his rough tongue across the sensitive skin. “Wanna keep pretending that I’m just your pet?”
He wasn’t.
And when your eyes skimmed down his pretty chest and his dripping cock, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no.
“You know you’re not,” you whispered, as close as you could come to a confession.
Let him grab you by the ass next, hoisting you up as his mouth returned to yours, matching his starving fervor, wrapping your wrists around his neck as he groaned into the kiss. And maybe it was how wrong it was, but you didn’t think any kiss before this had ever felt so right.
His fingers dug into your soft flesh, dimpling it as he tried to claim you with his tongue and teeth, a low growl ripping from the deepest part of his chest you felt his cock catch right at your entrance.
You sort of expected him to just cave into the desires you knew were hardwired into hybrids like him. Just jam his cock in and breed you until he had his fill, or uh, filled you up. It wasn’t like he could even get you pregnant, not when you’d been on birth control far before you met him.
But before you could brace yourself for the burning stretch that was surely coming, he was ripping free from the kiss to lift you up higher. Like, a lot higher.
Using that ridiculous strength of his to balance your weight as he pressed your damp body against the cold wall of the shower, ignoring your squirming until his your cunt was presented right in front of his mouth.
Dragging his rough tongue across it, worming his way in before you could so much as mumble the probably needed what the hell was he doing.
You guessed you already knew what the answer was.
He was always starving, after all.
You’d just become his breakfast.
Your head leaning back against the shower wall while his hands steadily supported your weight, keeping your thighs spread enough to make room to bury his head between them. Sloppily swirling his tongue inside you, using the thick muscle to map you out, explore you with an expertise you hadn’t expected. An attention to detail you hadn’t thought he was capable of when it came to something that didn’t benefit him.
Although, judging by the feral moans reverberating through you from his mouth, you guessed he was getting some pleasure in eating you out.
Fingers digging in possessively to your soft flesh, his tongue flicking in-and-out fast, your chest straining to contain your rapid heartbeats as little jolts of electricity raced through the rest of you. Arousal and anticipation bleeding into each other as they overwrote your anxiety over what you were letting him do.
Just when his tongue slid back out, traced a messy line up to your needy clit, and you foolishly thought he was about to make you cum for him, his head turned up, looking up at you almost accusatory through half-lidded eyes.
“You’re soakin’, brat,” he scoffed, and you could make out a hint of a crude smirk on his lips.
“We’re in the shower,” you tried to retort, like heat wasn’t flooding your face – and between your legs.
“Water’s been off for like, five minutes,” he reminded you.
Your mouth fell open, but you couldn’t come up with a reply sharp enough to shut him up.
It didn’t matter though. Because his hands shifted, and you were falling, a scary second passing before he grabbed you and pinned you back in the first position, chuckling with amusement as he lifted your thighs up, pressing them against your chest and squishing your tits as you tried to wiggle in his renewed grip.
Stupid.
He was too strong, his hold too tight, the tips of his claws teasingly pressing into your skin as you whined, more aware of the emptiness in your pussy than you’d like to be. The ache he’d left you with desperate to be soothed, stuffed.
“You should go dry off,” he mocked, your heart stopping at his suggestion, playing right into his hand. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”
“Can’t you just shut up and fuck me already?” You hissed at him, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of your throat instead of stomping your foot like you instinctively wanted to. A little swish, a flash of orange caught your attention in the corner of your vision, a smile curling up on your lips when you realized his tail was wagging.
He could play coy.
Act sly and in control.
But his body gave him away.
And while you were distracted, he’d taken the chance to line himself up, angle and all, just to slide himself in like it was nothing, his saliva acting as lube as he shoved inch after inch in. His rather, ah, large girth barely able to make it through, your thoughts immediately fizzling out into a chorus of holy fucking shit, how much more is there only for it to keep going.
His mouth returned to your face, leaving messy kisses all over your cheeks, down your jaw, wherever he could reach, like it could coax you through the mean stretch of his cock spearing you open.
“So fuckin’ tight, brat,” he groaned, teeth gritted, his breath warm on your skin as you whined at the intense sensation of his hips moving, rolling up while you were struggling to even manage breathing at all.
“Not my fault you’re so-” You couldn’t even finish, lips clamping shut as you realized you were about to stroke his ego.
“M’so what?” He dared you to finish anyway, stalling inside you, making it obvious he wouldn’t move a muscle until you said it.
Biting your lip as you begrudgingly murmured, “Big.”
You were wondering who was really the pet here when it felt like you were being rewarded for good behavior after he pulled his cock out and pushed it back in, quickly picking up a steady rhythm – one that seemed specifically designed to unravel you.
Pull you apart until you were reduced down to your basest instincts.
Until you were like him.
And even worse?
It was working.
A babble of syllables that sounded like his name falling from your mouth when he kept grinding into the soft, spongy spot in the back, pressing into it over and over again like it was a button built for breaking you down. Your sanity slowly dissolving into something he could swallow, his sharp teeth glinting when he bared them at you in a crooked smile.
“You love me rutting into you like this, huh?” He growled, your head bobbing uselessly as his cock split you open deeper, grinding meanly into your cervix like it was his to claim.
You did, and it, you were his, even if you sold yourself some other story to make yourself feel better.
“A-asshole,” you groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair to try and find something to pull on, holding onto the slivers of rationality you had left by threatening to rip some of his hair out of his scalp.
“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” he half-spat out, kissing you again so you couldn’t argue with him. His tongue returning to your mouth as he thrusted up faster, fucking you so full you were pretty sure you felt him in your lungs. Whining into the kiss until he pulled back, his dark red eyes glinting in the warm yellow lighting of your bathroom as he smirked, “What would your friends think if they knew you let me fuck you like this?”
Pushing his lips out in a dramatic pout, but you just pulled his hair harder, trying to make him wince to match the weird feeling he kept stuffing down your throat, the hint of humiliation at knowing what he was trying to imply.
That everyone you knew would judge you for sleeping with Sukuna. Say that you shouldn’t fucking have sex with the hybrid you were literally fostering. For good reason, too.
But how the hell were you supposed to say no when his hands felt like they fit you?
When every ridge of his swollen cock stretched you open just right?
“I-I don’t care,” you protested, puffing out your chest despite your sore thighs being pinned to them. Muscles aching, straining as the rubber band you were currently clinging to threatened to snap hard the longer he rutted into you.
But then, right as his fat tip grinded up against your womb, he stopped, ignoring your irritated huff for him to continue.
“Kuna,” you started, but before you could form another syllable, you felt it. Him.
The base of his cock slowly ballooning, his knot trying to take hold and work its way up inside you, to lock himself in. You made some strangled noise you didn’t even know you were capable of, a guttural sound torn from the deepest part of your throat as the pressure built and soared, feeling yourself getting molded and practically reshaped by his size.
“C’mon,” he growled, just as raw and rough as you expected from him, one of his huge hands slipping between your thighs, a calloused thumb covering your clit as he started rubbing mean circles over it. Distracting you from the fact you were being destroyed, remodeled around his cock, flames of lust licking over your sensitive bundle of nerves as he sent another set of shudders down your spine. “Don’t tell me you can’t take it.”
You could.
You would.
Just as stubborn as he was, even if you were shutting your eyes and biting the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood, the pain of the stretch melting into white-hot pleasure as he began kissing your collarbone, trailing up higher until his lips were pressed against the crook just above it.
His teeth sank into your throat, your entire body shivering under the sheer force to it, something inside you pulling tight as you gasped some broken cry of his name. But he didn’t let go. Didn’t retract. Just bit down harder, feeling you spasm and squirm around him as he held on, the knot at the base of your entrance somehow managing to inflate more.
You dragged your nails down his back, probably shredding the skin there, leaving long scratches of your own to mark him as yours too.
“Mine,” he growled, licking the sore spot while your brain struggled to process what was happening. What he’d just done.
You couldn’t exactly drop him back off at the rescue when he’d made you his mate.
Left a huge fucking hickey you’d be stuck living with, a bond forged from baths and breakfasts and boring movies.
You knew it was a bad idea.
But you didn’t want to break it.
He was yours, wasn’t he? Wasn’t it only right that you were his too?
Letting all those negative thoughts fade as you gave into how fucking good he felt, his mouth on your neck and his thumb massaging your clit and his cock filling up every crevice until you weren’t sure where you started and he ended anymore.
“Say it,” Sukuna gruffly grunted, his thumb hesitating, knowing just how close you were and still teasing you anyway.
“I’m your mate,” you admitted, your weak voice coming out in a whimper as he dragged you to a climax with just a harsh swipe of his thumb. White stars splotching and staining your vision, heat simmering through you as your thighs trembled, muscles begging for relief as his heavy breathing undercut the drone of the bathroom exhaust fan.
“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hissed, cumming right after you, still rubbing your clit through it, warm ropes of cum filling you up and getting plugged inside by his knot. Not even able to leak down your thighs as it held fast, your thoughts distant and dreamy as slowly floated back down to earth.
Hesitantly meeting Sukuna’s dark eyes only to find them already focused solely on you, clouded with something that looked an awful lot like love up this close.
“I’m staying here,” he grumbled, nose scrunching up as his tail wrapped around your leg.
You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of him even if you wanted to.
Now how the hell were you supposed to tell your work?
reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3
sukuna's convinced he'll never find a mate. he's tried it all, mate pairing programs, rehabilitation. no one wants him. who needs a bond anyway? he prefers the solitude. you're his last hope. an optimistic volunteer thrown at him by that pesky support program in hopes that he'll finally find a mate. will you be the one to show him that he doesn't really wanna be lonely? or will you throw him to the curb like everyone else? well, his rough exterior and unexpected rut truly puts you to the test.
♡ ﹕ 8.6k words
♡ ﹕ this was commissioned by @lycanqueen
꒰ 🍓 ⸰ ✦ 𝓒ws. hybrid au :: human!reader :: smut :: hurt/comfort :: mean!sukuna :: sweet!reader :: possessiveness :: pining :: hybrid ruts :: scenting :: marking :: oral ( f.receiving ) :: face-sitting :: p in v :: rough sex :: mating press :: multiple orgasms :: emotional sex :: overstimulation :: choking :: breeding :: talks of cubs :: creampie ꒱
"Maybe they were right about you. You are a lost cause."
So this rehabilitation agent had guts? Sukuna would give him that much.
The sun pierced his eyes and slitted his pupils as he stared at the man before him, unshaken. Bold, for someone with noting but a flimsy clipboard for a weapon if Sukuna let his temper get the better of him.
He never had an issue with it before. So where were his claws?
"That mean I can finally do my own damn thing now?" He gruffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he propped against his doorway. He ignored his tail that hung low.
The man furrowed his brows. Sucked in a breath. Looked like he was searching for patience in the late afternoon air. His hand with the clipboard dropped as he stood straight.
"You don't get it, do you Ryomen?"
"What's there to get? That I can't play housecat for your domesticity programs?"
"Behavioural programs."
"That've made shit progress."
"It's not as if you make it any easier."
"Your potential mates bore me."
"You scared them off. Every one of them."
The man didn't need to match Sukuna's tone to scathe him. His face never broke clinical aloofness, even with each word loaded. Baggage of the ugly truth: that Ryomen Sukuna was a lost cause.
Countless mates. Five? Six? He lost track. He pretended to forget their names but he remembered every one.
The first left quietly. Said he was too loud.
The second left loudly. Said he was too quiet.
The third claimed she was frightened. The fourth didn't even give him a reason. Fifth and sixth were some ugly variation of all of the above.
Sukuna stopped caring.
He did care, at one point. That's why he let his coworker convince him to join this stupid 'hybrid nature rehabilitation program' in the first place, right? Because maybe tigers were too bold. Too frightening. Too much.
Too much. That's what the last one said.
Well, if he was too much for anyone, maybe they weren't enough for him.
The agent sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose and probably contemplating why he chose to work for a facility that boasted a 100% rehabilitation record. Guess Sukuna was about to ruin that too. As he did most things.
"Look," the man said. His shoulders slumped. "We do not typically give up on our patients, but surely you understand that we've tried everything in the book for you, right?"
Sukuna didn't reply.
"Behavioural therapy. Group counselling. Mate pairings and courses. You've chased away every volunteer and potential mate. Somehow even frightened off your therapist last month."
"She was weak."
"She was doing her job. You act like. . ."
Sukuna grunted. His claws threatening to lash out and tear up his own shirt. "What?" He knew the answer. Knew that sickening word that they all used for him. "An animal?"
The man didn't answer. Didn't have to. He sighed again and checked his clipboard. "This is your last shot for clearance."
"And if I don't pass?"
"You'll be escorted to a private facility."
Hybrids were monitored under lock and key by the state. Sukuna guessed he couldn't really blame them. They were different. Unpredictable.
Animals.
Sukuna regretted ever approaching the program in the first place. If he knew what he knew now— that he was simply built to be on his own, he would have swallowed the furball and bit his own tail. Lived out the rest of his life without the feeling of being watched.
Now, they knew he was unstable. Now, they considered him a threat. Guess his claws really were clipped.
"Thanks to your last stunt, none of the volunteers stepped up for this," the man said, flipping through his clipboard.
Sukuna huffed. "What's the point then? Just ship me off already." At least he'd get to be alone, then.
"Because miraculously, one of our assistants offered to help." The man looked up. "She's new. And your last shot." He handed over the clipboard with a small picture clipped at the top right.
That's the first time Sukuna saw you.
The second time he saw you, you smiled at him. Stupid move, really. For someone so small, so frail— so breakable.
"It's nice to meet you," he's sure you lied as you stuck out your hand. Chirpier than a bird hybrid. Bright eyed as a squirrel. Were they sure that you were human?
"Yeah. Hi." He gruffed, not reaching for your hand. It looked too gentle for him.
You dropped your arm to your side, still smiling, but softer. Before you trotted off to lug the rest of your belongings into his home.
He helped you, of course. Tiny thing like you probably would sprain her spine if she did it all by herself. Pathetic.
This was his last hope? They might as well cage him and ship him off already.
Within a week, he was sharing his space again. The few days of blissful solitude had come to an end. Now, there was a canvas in his living room. Pink body wash and products littered across his bathroom counter. Books from authors he couldn't even pronounce occupying his empty shelves.
You were sweeter than the three spoons of sugar you dumped in your strawberry tea every morning. Softer than the dinner rolls you insisted on making every Wednesday and Friday. Shy. Gentle.
Too gentle for someone like him.
In the beginning, Sukuna had watched you. Like a tiger stalked its prey. Scouring for the first sign of discomfort. A hint of fear. Even those who started off strong couldn't keep up the act for long. Not with him.
Which was what made it so odd.
You were timid, sure. But not afraid of him. Guess he'd give it some time.
Because that's simply his fate now, right? Watch a new volunteer skip into his lair and run off with their tail between their legs once he got too much. No one stayed. Not like they did with everyone else.
Others made hybrid bonding look easy. They'd join circles and find mates in the same week. Same night, even. Claiming it all as 'the right timing'. The right person.
Sukuna was a wrong person. Therefore, no right person would fit. Like an unwanted puzzle piece.
Not that he cared. He didn't need to fit in with anyone. If he was too much for any twisted jigsaw of companionship then he'd simply be the missing piece. A corner piece no one looked for. The one that made no difference to the puzzle. The one that no one needed.
He preferred being alone, anyway.
If this last ditch effort blew up in smoke, he guessed he'd have his wish. Whatever facility they'd stuff him into— at least he would be alone. It was better that way.
By himself, he didn't have to soften his tongue. By himself, he didn't have to pretend that he did not have stripes, claws and canines. Didn't have to soften himself for someone who wouldn't soften for him.
Didn't have to watch anyone leave when he became too much.
You didn't leave.
A week went by. Then two. Three, before he knew it. You rooted yourself into his floorboards like a flourishing flower and offered him the same sunny smile every morning.
"How'd you sleep, Sukuna?" You'd ask, as if you cared.
"Fine." He'd grumble from the coffee machine. The bitter stain on his tongue refused to ever let him return the question.
Why should he bother with someone who was going to sign him off anyway? Might as well show her what she was getting herself into. His poor behaviour and slacking social skills, as his therapist put it.
You never flinched. Humans sure were resilient.
But he was hybrid. And everyone knew that tigers were ruthless.
He wouldn't shroud his nature to make himself more palatable for you. For anyone, ever again.
It's odd. You actually tried.
You adapted your body clock to him. Sukuna woke up drearily early. To catch the dawn on his ears during his morning run. He supposed you started waking up shortly after him. Giving you enough time to ready breakfast for him when he stepped back through the door.
Eggs. Bacon. Any raw protein you could think of. You were unfortunately, a good cook.
"This isn't necessary," he said from the counter, but still wolfed down your perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs.
"Waking up early has its perks." You mused, sipping your tea. Probably strawberry. Or rose. He hated that he now knew your favourites.
You made his bed whenever he wasn't looking. He scolded you for it, the first few times. You insisted it was fine. That you liked cleaning up.
You tried to watch movies with him. Plopped beside him on the sofa and struck him your signature smile.
"Wanna watch something?" You asked, soft. Already dangling the remote. Sukuna couldn't help but compare the size of your hand to his.
He scoffed. "What? Some romcom?"
"Or horror." You bashed.
His instincts told him that a gentle soul like you wouldn't last ten seconds with a horror movie. Still, he indulged you. The last thing he wanted was to endure some stupid hybrid hallmark film.
A slasher flick. He didn't pay attention to the name. All he knew was that you quivered halfway through it and that stirred an urge in his gut.
Urge to what? Now that, he once again had no answers to.
It was warm. Low. The same way he felt when kids dropped their ice creams and mothers tripped in grocery stores. He couldn't name it. But he did drape his arm over the back of the couch. Not grazing your shoulders but, there.
You'd probably have nightmares tonight. Silly girl. Now he would be obligated to return the favour.
Because you did, a few nights ago. When he tossed and turned. Creased his sheets and slashed his blankets. Sukuna wasn't one to dream— but he did have nightmares.
About the darkness. About the cold. About a void that for some, unfathomable reason, unsettled him.
"It's okay, shh." Your voice reached out to him through the shadow. Light against the darkness.
"It's okay. I'm here. Wake up, please."
You were luck he hadn't broken your arm.
His grip was too tight. Claws too wretched. Not lucid enough to realise that he snatched your wrist when he had woken up.
"Get out." His voice rumbled. Eyes bloodshot and pupils tight. Sweat burned his forehead.
It must have not sounded like a threat, or maybe it was your stupid human resilience. You leaned over him. One knee on his bed and your hand ghosting his shoulder.
"You're freezing," you whispered.
He jerked from you. Rolled over onto his side and refused to allow himself to be vulnerable under your gentle gaze.
"I'm fine." He said.
You insisted. Are you sure? — Can I get you anything? — All the things that people said to catch you off guard and then left anyway.
"I said I'm fine."
His voice boomed, final. It was the first time he'd seen you flinch. He did not bother calling out for you as you shuffled out of the room. Assumed your bags would be packed by the morning. Your pink body wash nowhere to be seen on his counters and your books vanished from his shelves.
You didn't leave. Here you were, a few days later, with shaky knees and a horror movie. But insisting that you were enjoying it for his sake.
You never turned tail. Never backed down. Maybe it was more than human resilience. Maybe it was stubbornness.
That's the only thing that made sense to him. Why else hadn't you disappeared regardless of how much steam he'd blown at you? Especially when he was too much.
"Let's get one thing straight."
You had said something stupid one day in the kitchen. Something about being there for him. Some empty promise he had heard mixed and minced several different ways until it lost all meaning.
As if his mood was not sour enough.
Your back pressed into the fridge. His strong forearm shoved above your head. Sukuna's hulking body shadowed yours. Perhaps this was it. Where you finally became apart of that void that haunted his dreams.
"You and I. Are not. Compatible." His ears pinned back to his head. Tail coiled tight. Like his jaw and teeth that clenched.
Still, you held his stare. Even when it burned.
"Not a thing. Not. Possible." He spat. "So stop acting like you aren't just gonna sign me off so I can be caged up."
"I'm not—"
"I want you to."
He cut you off. Sharp as his heave as he craned closer. Close enough to smell your cherry shampoo— but not a hint of fear.
What was wrong with you?
"I want you to sign me off. So that we can stop pretending like any of this is gonna work and that I'm anything but better off alone."
The fridge rattled as he shoved himself off. He expected your knees to shake. Expected you to clamber out of the kitchen and stuff whatever you could into a suitcase for the night.
Instead, you watched him storm off. With those same, achingly gentle eyes.
Why were you so gentle?
Why did you stay?
Why did he find himself being gentler, too?
Of course, Sukuna didn't want to snap at you. You were simply the closest thing. The softest thing. His hands weren't built to cherish the tender.
Yet, tender were his hands, as they cooked for you. If you handled breakfast, it was only fair that dinner was his responsibility. Even if all he exchanged with you were grunts and gruffs, as long as you went to bed full, he was content.
Content? Odd. That wasn't a word in his vocabulary anymore.
His voice dangered tender's territory on nights you'd be out. Work, friends, whatever he never bothered listening to but for some reason found himself worrying over when the street lights switched on.
"Do you need a lift back?" He asked into the phone. Taking note to look uninterested, even if you couldn't see him.
"I should be fine, Sukuna." You chirped.
"You sure? It's almost midnight."
"I'm sure! What's the worst that could happen?"
To a sweet thing like you? A lot. More than he'd like to imagine.
Morals, he told himself. He pulled up in the middle of the morning to pick you up because of his pesky morals.
"Sorry you had to come all this way," you said as you shut the passenger door.
Sukuna considered your dress. Hated himself for it.
"What?" His tongue clicked. "Were you expecting to walk all the way back?"
"What's the worst that could—"
"A lot."
It wasn't like the other times. His voice raised, but didn't roar. His brows narrowed, but didn't glare.
The car ride was silent.
Your smile was sickening.
Cute.
He watched you closer. Not as a tiger stalked prey. Not anymore. He couldn't name this.
He refused to call it gentle.
Even when he carefully observed the way you fixed your hair every morning. How he noted which of your curves that the sun bounced odd of. The soft plush of your body and how your thighs moulded into the couch cushions, or rounded perfectly in your shorts.
Never had he been one to appreciate art— though he stood in front of your canvases and stared at your paint patterns. Swirls of green and blotches of warmth. Illustrations of nature: jungles and wild flowers.
It called to something within him. He assumed his hybrid traits. A tiger yearned for jungle, that was his home.
Home.
Sukuna didn't have a home.
He had a house. He had you. Had pink body wash on his counters and books he'd learnt the names of on his shelves. Had a warm meal every morning and a warmer bed you still insisted on making.
He had movie nights. A running partner. Someone who finally rooted her heels to the floorboards and blossomed in his walls. Stubborn as she was shy.
But not a home.
It was only a matter of time. Until he said something that finally was the thing. Until he'd wake up to your paintings missing, and your shampoo gone. He'd come home to no protein, but a sheet of paper:
I've signed you off. Good riddance.
You told him that you wouldn't, after he insisted it that night in the kitchen.
You padded to doorway of his room, picking at your sleeves with a petal-soft voice.
"All we have to do is clear you for rehabilitation," you said.
Not once did your eyes meet his.
"Then what? I can finally be alone?" He asked, incredulous.
You nodded.
It's what he wanted. What he claimed to want. So why was your agreement a sharp pang between his ribs?
That was then. He assumed your plans hadn't changed much. A silent agreement that if he behaved, you'd leave him be by the end of it all.
That's why he was gentler, he told himself.
Just trying to ensure his goals, he insisted.
For now, he would take care of you as you did him. Whether conscious or not. If it meant that when it was through, he'd get what was best for him.
Solitude.
But if solitude was what he wanted, why did he hate seeing you in others' company?
It was late. Emergency work call. He missed his afternoon cat nap and only scuffed down half of his breakfast.
The sun peeped at him from its sprawl across the horizon. Glaring into the back of his head as he stalked home. Burning him hotter. Hot.
He felt so. Fucking. Hot.
It wasn't even summer yet. Spring had only perked its preppy head. The blossoms bloomed. Their nectar tickled his nose. Couples gifted their flowers.
Sukuna hated spring.
He hoped you hadn't cooked dinner yet. That was his job. His responsibility.
But no, you were outside. Prattling to a neighbour.
All smiles and soft. Cupping your hands in front of you as you listened to the man's stories. The irritable snow leopard that lived next door. With his baby blue eyes and boyish grin.
What were you even doing outside in the first place? Didn't he tell you it was dangerous once the street lights started switching on?
Sukuna did what he did best. He watched. Looming by the telephone wire. Feeling the sun stab into his head. His spine. Feeling the heat gurgle from his gut. Splutter up his lungs. Against the back of his teeth.
That spotted fucker touched your arm.
Sukuna scathed.
Blurred colours. A muffled yelp. His claw caught on your woolly sweater as he snatched your arm.
"Sukuna—!"
Your gasp drowned in the rumble of his growl. Grated from the back of his throat. The leopard backed off. Your muscles tensed under his calloused fingers.
"Inside. Now."
He didn't wait for you to agree nor disagree. Dragging you inside and rattling the walls as the door clattered! shut.
"Su—" he lodged your voice in your throat once more. Shoved your back into the nearest thing— the same splintering door.
Was it hotter inside? Or was that the anger?
A sweat drop sweltered between his brows.
"What the hell were you doing?" As if he had any right to ask. You weren't his mate.
Mate? Of course you weren't his mate.
Then why did his teeth crave to sink into your flesh? Mark you?
His stare hazed. Blinking rapidly. Heaving. The heat blistered into his nerves. Clenched his muscles. Suffocating. It was suffocating.
"Why were you. With him. Why—" he zeroed in. Mistake. Big mistake.
Your scent.
You weren't his mate. Why the hell did you smell like it, then?
Did you always smell this good?
Your gaped at him. Hands stiff on your sides and pressed flat into the wood. Your neck craned to account for the height difference. Were you watching him this time? Was he too much?
His eyes squeezed shut.
"Sukuna," you spoke. His name didn't deserve that gentleness. It ached him deeper today.
"I think you're. . ."
Snapping open his stare, he sucked in breath. Considered your words. The phrase your lips wrapped around.
Rut.
Shit.
He shoved himself away from the door. Away from you. The fire crawled up his throat. Thunked his heart. Thrummed a deep, dark chord in his gut.
The sweat slipping down his spine in the middle of spring confirmed it. He was in rut. With a poor, persistent, pretty human in claw's reach.
"Hey— hey it's okay," you attempted, stepping forward where he stumbled back.
"Don't."
He hissed.
You preserved.
Stubborn. Stubborn, sweet thing.
"Let me help." You offered.
"No."
He tried. Tried to stumble off. Lock himself in his room. He could hump the mattress for all he cared but he wasn't so much as touching—
You took him by the wrist. Might as well have taken his soul while you were at it.
Splintered his restraint.
The door rattled again. Creaked awfully with the weight of him. On you. The thickness of the air. The heat. Your wrists fit well in his big hands. Looked like they belonged there.
You looked like you belonged here. Pinned under him.
His chest heaved. Voice jagged, throaty.
"You don't know what you're getting into." He said.
You gulped. He paid too much attention to your throat. "I did when I signed up for this."
"Do you even know what a rut is?"
"I know you can't be alone right now."
Sukuna's breath hitched.
You relaxed your hips. Let them mould into his. Their plush softness drove him wild.
Lashes hung over deep maroons. The quiet thrummed with your heart beats. His, thundering and wanting. Yours, tender yet eager.
He craned closer. Tuffs of his pink hair tickled your forehead.
"I can do awful things to you." He whispered.
Still no flinches. You never did.
Your eyes batted at him.
"Is that so bad?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
Even the kiss, burned.
Your lips really were petal-soft. Softer than he had imagined. He hated himself for imagining this in the first place.
The knot in his gut wound tight. Urging him to flush you further into the wood. Flush further into you. Patience slipped into the simmer between your mouths. Sukuna kissed you with violence. Nothing contained. Nothing hidden.
He told you that he wouldn't placate himself for you.
Abandoning your wrists, his grip sought your plush. Squeezing your thighs between his fingers gaps. Lifting you into his arms so that your heels pressed into his back. So that he could consume you. Tongues tangling and teeth tackling.
Your hands smacked at his shoulder. Breaths huffed through your nose. A desperate sound that plunged him deeper into heat.
He let you breathe. Barely.
"I can be good for you." Was what you used the privilege to gasp.
His chest rumbled. "Yeah?"
The slope of your throat was so pretty when you gulped.
Sukuna slipped a hand to your cheek. Rough. He couldn't be gentle. Not with you. Not now.
"Gonna be good for me, pretty girl?"
Eyes blown out. Jaw tight. If you said anything other than your whined little yes as his hips ground into yours, he might have lost his mind entirely.
His mouth attacked yours again. Sucking on whatever was left of your lychee lipgloss. Surely bruising your lips in the process. He didn't care. Let him mark you. Everywhere. So that stupid snow leopards didn't get the wrong idea. So that everyone knew what you were.
His.
The home blurred into vertigo colours. The floors creaked under the weight of his footsteps. Sukuna hoisted you with him. Haphazardly avoiding furniture in the stagger to his bedroom. Hands palming at whatever part of your flesh he could reach.
He almost stumbled in the hallway. Caught you against the doorway, one of your hands gripped at it while the other clutched the back of his neck. Fisted his hair between your fingers.
"Sukuna, careful." You whined.
He didn't listen. Too busy humping on your thighs that squished perfectly between his hard body and the cold door. Nurturing his bulge. Tucking its hot curve into the smooth crux of your skin.
"Said you'd be good for me." His growl rumbled on your pulse. Teeth mapping out his new territory: your velvet flesh. "So shut up and take it. Like a good girl, yeah?"
The door swung open. You must have palmed the handle. Feet fumbled in a clumsy waltz. Hands clinging for dear life. He caught you. Kept you pressed against his blazing body as he mouthed down your throat. Latched onto a tender spot. Marked you.
Sukuna handled his ruts the way he handled everything else: alone. His hand, a pillow, and a grotesque amount of tissue boxes. When last had he felt the soft touch of a partner? Held their warmth beneath him while his mind drove him wild with fire?
He was always too much. Too much to handle. Too aggressive. Too big.
But you.
You seemed to want everything.
In the way your nails curled on his shirt. In the pitiful way your neck arched to give him more access. Offering yourself up to him. A pretty deer who craved a tiger's claws in her. His maw latched to your throat.
"You're so eager," he groaned.
You whimpered, "I'm yours."
Fuck.
The mattress sunk. Creaking in retort to the callousness of his shove. Your body moulded into his sheets. Into him, as he staggered over you. Knees digging into the bed. Teeth clamped on the base of your throat.
You jerked. A gasped cry vibrating against his teeth. Palms knocking into his shoulders. To push him off?
No— to grip. Cling. To him. To your mate.
After all, you were his now, weren't you?
Bites bloomed across your neck. Over your collarbone. Down your shoulders. Your clothes threading like ribbons under Sukuna's claws. The sound of fabric tearing accentuated the rough pants and pitched whines in the humid air.
He wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you what a good girl you were being for him. Wanted to grunt into your skin about how perfect you were. Tell you that you were everything he'd been waiting for.
The words lodged in his throat. Sticky on the back of his tongue that could only muster out wet pants and deep growls as he feasted on your flesh.
Every inch of your skin revealed to him was another blessing. Your curves. The dips. The soft slopes of your body. Salivated him all the more.
Your bra never stood a chance. Clawed away. Probably ruined at the wire. He didn't care. He'd buy you a new one. Buy you whatever you wanted if you were gonna carry his cubs.
Cubs.
The word slipped into his mind with ease, and ruined it.
Pupils blown out. Lungs clenching. He made the mistake of eyeing your tummy.
Perfect, round, soft. You'd be the perfect mate. The perfect mother for his young.
The thought spurred his hands rougher. Tearing away offensive fabrics until you were laid completely bare before him. With big, doe eyes batting up at him. So pretty. So his.
From the corner of his eye he spotted your hands slipping. To cover up. Cover what was his. Your wrists were snatched in his hard grip.
"Don't," he warned. Lips assaulting yours. Stealing your breath and tonguing on your whimpers.
"Don't hide what's mine."
Your tits were softer under his tastebuds. Delicate to the harsh swirls of his tongue. So small when compared to his mouth that sought to consume, to claim.
Sweet sounds sighed from your kiss-bitten lips. Your spine curved so that you pressed back into him. Squishing your plush breasts into his face. His groan rumbled into the flesh.
So tender it was maddening. So perfect it was addicting.
Kisses, sucks, bites. He littered your tits in more claims. Feasting on your silk flesh. Fantasising about the image of them larger. Fat and swollen with milk— just as you were round with his cubs.
His cock strained thick in his pants. Flushed hot on your inner thigh. He ground into your warmth. Rutting wildly. Like the animal he always was.
Your hands delving into his hair almost broke him. Almost. He withdrew from your chest. Eyes glowing through the dark as he found your face.
"Taste so good. So sweet." A hand roughed down your side. Cupped your thigh and strung it round his waist.
"Up."
Raw strength scooped you into his palms. Flesh spilling between the gaps of his fingers as he squeezed for good measure.
Your little squeaks were so cute.
Teeth dragged on your flesh. Callous over bites sunk into your gentle flesh. He lapped on the indents of his own canines as he wrest you over him. Shoved your thighs higher. Urging you. Demanding.
"Face. Now. Fucking sit on my face."
Senseless. Each word was a growl. It's a miracle you understood him at all. Maybe you always would. That's how mates were, right?
The cotton of your panties dragged on his collarbone. Frantic eyes darted to your face as your hips locked. Unmoving.
Stubborn little human.
"What?" He husked. Scuffling to shove you over his awaiting face. "I said sit."
Your lips pressed together. Hands scrambling for the headboard. "Wait are you— are you sure? I'm—"
"—driving me mad." He hissed through clenched teeth. The throbbing in his groin pulsed the sickening heat hotter. Seared into the back of his skull. To his hands that groped your ass. To his eyes that narrowed.
"Said I wanna taste you. So get. On."
Was that too much?
Was he too much for you?
No, course not. You wanted to be his good girl. He saw it in your doe eyes batting at him. In the quiver of your lip and the tremors of your thighs. You shuffled over him. Pressing the cusp of your panties against his chin.
"Like this?" You meeked.
"Like this."
Sukuna tugged you over him. Knocking your thighs. You stumbled. Caught yourself with shaky fingers in his hair and an adorable yelp.
The musked cotton scrunched into his nose, his mouth, the rest of his hard face. Stuffing his nostrils with the sweet, intoxicating aroma. His eyes threatened to roll back.
A muffled curse rumbled into your heat. First came his tongue. Abrasive like everything else about him. Lapping on your folds. Drenching the fabric. Trying to suck in your taste through it.
Then came his teeth. Impatient. Tearing into your panties. His head wrest, violent. Claws ripping away the cloth in a feral affair.
Your sweet heat was his reward. Slicking up his face with your clit pressed into his nose.
"Fuck," his groan thrummed. Straight into your velvet. Leaking your pussy into his agitated mouth. "Knew you'd taste s'fucking sweet."
Hands slipped up your thighs. Cupped your ass. Sukuna sought to press kisses to your quivering slit— but you dangled above him. Not pressed, not sat. Hovered.
"Said. Fucking sit."
He hauled you into him. Cramped your thighs into his head. Smothered your pussy into his face. Even with his ears muffled by your plush, he heard your stunned gasp.
The weight was perfect on his head. Your hands were perfect in his hair. Pussy pretty, pulsing, perfect, on his tongue that stroked over your slit. Lathered you in saliva. All the way to your clit.
He darted the muscle. Circled on your bud. Trying to commit to a rhythm. A pattern. It scathed into the heat of his rut. The heat to take, to claim. To make you his. Finally.
Even if you hated him after this.
Even if you signed him off and he finally got what he wanted. Solitude.
Right now, all he wanted was your pussy.
Filthy squirts and sloshes squelched through the room. Brimming the hazed air together with your whines. Moans. Gasps of his name.
He always hated how gently you said it. Like it meant something. Like it ever could mean something. Hearing it broken sounded better. Shaky and whimpered as he fucked you on his tongue.
"S-Suk— kuna, ah."
Sweet. So sweet. Sweeter than he ever deserved. But Sukuna was a greedy man. So he gripped on your thighs, bit his nails into your flesh, and feasted to his heart's content.
"There ya go. C'mon, pretty girl, ride my face."
Spank! went his hand. Clamouring your ass and fisting the jiggles. Pulling you down, harder, closer— till he was suffocating. Suckling on your clit. Guiding your hips into a sinful sway.
Your hips fell into rhythm. Atta girl. Always so sweet for him. Always so obedient. Yeah, if you stayed, you'd make the perfect mate.
He hoped you stayed.
He could make you stay.
Keep you in his bed. Make a den for you. Hold you down and fuck you into his sheets day-in-and-day-out. Fill you up until your tummy grew even rounder. Softer. Until you were swollen. Until you were his.
No. Fuck. That's the rut talking.
The rut talking.
It's the rut that had him palming your ass and squeezing you into his face. The rut that had his mouth kissing, sucking, licking and laving through your creamy mess. The rut that had him fucking you on his tongue and bucking his hip into the air just as yours ground down into his face. Smearing mess all over him.
Yeah. That's the rut. But fuck, if he wasn't drunk on your pathetic moans. Your messy pussy.
Your clit spasmed under the flat of his harassing tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head. Fingers dug into his skull. Even your pain was sweet.
"Shit— kuna." Your voice croaked. Called to him as a mate should. "I'm gonna, fuck. Think 'm gonna. . . gonna—"
His eyes fluttered. Throat rasped.
"Gonna cum? Yeah? Gonna cum, hah, all over my face?"
From between the small gap of your thigh, Sukuna witnessed your face. Eyes rolled back. Jaw slack. Tits bouncing as you rode his face as if he was yours.
He was.
In this moment. In these blurred lines of his rut. Where he pictured you as his mate. Entertained the thought of wanting. Of being wanted. Of not being alone.
He was yours. Even if for a moment.
You sung his name through the haze. Tender even when he ripped you apart at the seams. Delicate even in his claws that threatened to tear into you. Mark you with scars and blood.
Your hips clumsily rocked. Once—twice—locked up in feverish tremors. Your hands bunching his hair. Clinging. Your body hunched over his. Shattering.
Sukuna rode you through an orgasm with his lips latched around your clit. Sucking harsh on its throbs. Teething on its twitches.
You splattered his face in warmth. Sweet, sickening warmth that doused him deeper into his rut's clutches.
"That's it. There you go. Fuck. Prettiest fucking pussy," he slurred into your wetness. Tongue delving between your puffy folds. Lapping up your cum. Greedy.
You toppled over him. Breaths ragged. One hand clutched in his hair and the other on the headboard.
"Wanna— wanna help. Wanna." To his surprise you pulled on his hair. Interrupting his creamy kisses on your slit.
Stares met. His hot. Yours warm. Wanting.
"Wanna make you feel good too."
How pretty you were when you quivered. Lips glossed by drool and lashes soaked with tears. It ached a deep chamber in his heart.
"Wanna be good for me?" He panted.
Your nod was doeish. As everything else about you was. His delicate girl. So fragile in his hands.
He couldn't wait to break you.
The bed creaked again. You squeaked as he hauled you down into the wrinkled sheets. On your back with his hulking weight pressing down on you. His mouth fixed to yours. Magnetic. Addicted. Letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
"That mean you gonna let me breed you too, baby?" Catching your lip between his teeth, he grunted. Pressing the swell of his cock between your legs. Staining his crotch in your slick. "Gonna let me breed this sweet pussy?"
Your response was sweet, shy, but oh so eager. A tepid nod, as your fingers slipped to his shoulders. So small. Smaller than him in every way. He took the moment to appreciate it.
You, spread and waiting for him. Your pussy, swollen and twitching. His bulge pressed on your glistening folds dwarfed you entirely.
Oh, how you'd squirm on his cock.
At last he shrugged his shirt off. Shivered when your touch feathered over his chest. He made the mistake of watching your eyes. How they mapped out scars that your fingers traced.
You didn't have to say anything. Your gaze spelt affection he wasn't ready to receive.
"Don't stare at me like that." He gruffed, kicking off his pants.
"Why not?" You asked.
"Makes me think you want me."
"I do want you, kuna."
Damn you.
Damn you and your tenderness. Damn you and that sweet nickname your sugar lips latched onto. Damn you and the way you made his cock throb hard in the strained fabric of his boxers.
He palmed your throat. Focused on your pulse. The control he held over you in the moment.
"Shut up." His hiss muffled with a kiss. Hot and open-mouthed on yours. As if he could suck the words from your tongue and swallow them into his gut that knew better.
Knew that he was better off alone. That this was only for the sake of his rut.
Bulging and angry, his tip nudged between your thighs. Soaking up your arousal. The slippery sensation of your pussy sent shivers down his spine. So wet. For him. Only him.
He let you pull away. Watching as your gaze lowered to his thick cock sandwiched between your folds. Sliding against your slit and dragging on your clit. Your wide eyes eased a chuckle from him.
"What?" He drawled. "Too big?"
"Well. . . yes."
"And every inch's gonna fucking breed you."
He pinned you back into the mattress. Flat on your back with your knees scooped into his big hands. Dwarfed you there too. He pressed them back into you so that they kissed your tits. Folding you in half and completely exposing you entirely to his hungry eyes.
Salivating. He was salivating. Your eyes were too kind for how lewd your pussy spread out for him. Leaking a string of mess. Calling for him. Wanting him.
"Keep your eyes on me, you got that?" Maroon burned into yours. Searching for hesitance. For fear. For something that could cut into this feverish rut and remind him that he didn't deserve you. But no.
You obeyed him.
You wanted him.
His cockhead slotted against your slit. Dipping in to feel the silky sin of your pussy. A deep groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. His brows furrowed. Fuck. When last had he had this?
Blunt nails dug into the backs of your thighs as he sunk in. One inch. Two inch. Three inch. Four— popping through the first tight ring of resistance. Eyes devouring yours the entire time.
He watched your face. How it scrunched up and your mouth parted. How tears clouded your eyes as he pushed past the halfway point.
He stopped.
"You good?" He huffed. Barely gentle.
Very. Gentle.
"Yeah it's— just. . . just a lot." You croaked.
"Too much?"
His face didn't falter, but his heart sure did. His grip loosening on your limbs. Ready to let you go. Free you from him.
But you shook your head. Teary eyed. Twitching smile.
"Not enough."
Hips possessed. Mind a mess. He slammed forward at those two, pretty little words. Till his tip smooched your cervix and his balls squished into your folds. Bottomed out. Filling you to the brim.
The sound you made was sin itself. A blessing. Heaven, hell, and everything in between.
"Oh fuck." You cried, head tossed back. Unable to see him gasping out the same exclaim.
Your syrupy cunt hugged around him. Tight, snug. Nursing on an underside vein and milking him around the tip. Every pulse was your heartbeat, and it devastated him.
Cussing, he pushed down onto you. His heart tugging itself towards yours. To press into your skin as his hips started rutting. Slow, eager.
"Fuck. Look at you take this cock. Like you were born for it," his words husked above you.
Your lashes fluttered. Brows knitting at the centre. He watched your tears threaten to slip as he humped on the sensitive ring that was your cervix.
His tongue clicked. Swapping out a hand on your thigh, he snatched you beneath the jaw instead. Wrenching your face to his hot one.
"Didn't I say keep your eyes on me?"
"M sorry."
"Don't apologise, just take it."
He withdrew. Halfway at first— then shoved back in. The second time was further. And further. Until his thrusts pulled to the tip and plunged back to your womb. Languid, but hard. Sure to make you feel every inch of him pressing into your pussy nerves.
You soaked up his thighs. Splashing his balls and leaking a puddle into the sheets already. The scent was intoxicating. Flared his nostrils and dizzied his head.
The mattress shook beneath the power of his thrusts. Your body bounced with it. He made sure to coil his tail tight around your waist. Held you down like a predator did prey as he fucked you open on his cock.
Pleasure built a knot in his gut. Hot, heavy. Urging his hips to snap harder and chase bruises on your jiggling ass.
Every sound was sin. Sweet. Cries, moans, a whimper than surged into a whine of his name when he removed his other hand from your thigh to instead hold them back with a steeled forearm. So that his palm could press on the bulge swelling up the base of your tummy.
"Fuuckkk," he growled. Ears pinned back to his hair. Jaw hung and canines glinting. "Look at that. See that, pretty girl? What's here?"
You hiccuped, "your— ah. Your cock!"
"Yeah? What's it doing?"
"It's—"
You couldn't answer. Slurred by moans and the delicious drive of his dick stretching you out. He watched your eyes go static.
Spank! his palm landed hot on your clit. Bulging your eyes and jerking your hips up into his frantic thrusts. He laid another. Two. Three— encouraging your pitiful whimpers.
"Asked you a fucking question. What's it doing?"
"It's— hah. B. . . Breeed—"
"Breeding you? Yeah?"
"Uhuh! Breeding. Breeding me s-so . . . s'goood."
Drool bubbled on your lips. Your hands that had tried to scramble on his shoulders and dig your mark into his flesh now fell flat on the pillow. Beside your head. Limp like the rest of your body that surrendered itself to him.
Heat surged down his spine as you clamped around him. Sucking the air from his scathing lungs. Staining his base in a thick, filthy ring of cream.
His hips rammed all the more faster. Harder. Imprinting you into his bed. Your slick. Your sweat. Your scent.
One of your weak hands slipped down. Meeking over to his larger one fixed on your stomach. Wrapping around two of his massive fingers. Or at least trying to.
It strung a deep chord in him. Thin and vulnerable. One he has thought he cut out long ago.
His half slipped over yours. Fingers laced. Pressing you against the bulge he plunged into your tummy. Holding your hand. Holding it tight.
"Sweet pussy's milking me," his grunt fanned your pulse as he swooped down. Mouthing on your neck. Searching for your pulse to feel it race beneath his lips. "Fuck. Wants my cum so bad. Wants my cubs."
"Please!" You slurred.
He swore he could do this for life.
Shoving all the way, Sukuna paused on your cervix. Sweat dripping from his hair. Cock drumming heavy. He clamped you down through your protesting whines.
"Yeah, yeah, shut it." It didn't sound harsh. Especially not with his firm squeeze on your hand.
Slipping out just enough, he watched your juices spray all over him. Mesmerising him. He worked on autopilot. Bundling you into his arms and manhandling you into a different position.
Tossing you to your side, Sukuna slotted behind you. Hips spooning your ass. One strong arm hooked around your neck, choking you on his bicep. While the other strung around your thigh. Wrenching you open for him and his massive cock, that bullied back into your cunt. Squelching your cum and sick in messy streams.
Your angelic cries resonated into his bicep. Making him squeeze it harder against your throat. Headlocking you into his greedy mouth that sucked hickies across your neck.
The angle was deeper. Filthier. Letting him feel so much more of you.
How much smaller you were than him. How you squeezed him just right. How perfect you were in his arms.
Like you belonged.
Shit. Don't go there.
Sukuna tried to drown it out. The returning thought of you. A permanent fixture in his life. Your pink body wash on his counter, that was now his. Your books on his shelves that he could read to you. You, in his living room, painting.
Painting the jungle. Painting home. Being his home.
His cock pulsed hard at the base and sweltered at the tip. The knot in his stomach wound tight. But that thought— that thought gutted him.
That you were here. That you had been here. Warm, and sweet, and soft and for the last few weeks. His.
You could be his.
"No," he wanted it to sound like a grunt. But he whimpered. Panting, heaving, mind dizzy and thrusts frantic—
Sukuna was whimpering.
Your face was pressed into his bicep. Head limp and hand still trying to hold his that clutched your thigh. Still calling his name so sweetly.
"N-No?" You breathed.
Still attuned to him even when he was fucking your brains out.
"Don't want you to leave."
Oh.
Oh.
He hadn't realised that it slipped from his lips. Hadn't realised that through his brutal thrusts— he was breaking. Lost in the burning bliss, the heat, and the warmth of what could be.
Sukuna lost his fucking mind.
"Don't wanna— fuck. Don't wanna be alone." His face fell into your neck. Arms squeezing your body into his. Trying to melt your skin into his. Tuck himself into your warm flesh and the selfish wish you gave him.
Hazed, and hot, and so heavenly yours.
Slick hair pressed into your cheek. His body collapsed onto yours. Pounding his cock up into your creamy cunt. Chasing his blazing nerves as his mouth rambled.
"Don't want you to leave. Don't. Shit. Don't leave me, please, please don't fucking leave me."
His thrusts lost rhythm. As frantic as his rushed whispers. Plunging into your cervix. Bruising your thighs. Clutching you closer. As close as he could muster. As close as it would take to keep you here forever.
"Say you won't— say you," he slurred. Eyes squeezed shut. Words melting into a clumsy splutter of curses. "Say. Say you won't. Say—"
"Won't. Won't. 'kuna I won't— hngahh. Promise!"
That single word. So raw. So true. Choked in a gasp as you tried to nudge your face closer to him.
It shattered whatever pride he had left.
"You promise?"
He croaked. Dangerously hopeful.
You nodded. Cried.
"Promise. I promise S'kuna. Breed me— please."
He should have known you'd be trouble from the moment you first smiled at him.
Heat trapped him. Seeped into every nerve and spasming muscle. Ears drooped. Tail clinging around your waist, as his arms did every inch of you.
He held your hand.
The ache in his hips nulled to the sound of your sweet voice. Tucking promises away in his heart and sealing them with attempted kisses, even when he was choking you.
He felt your orgasm shake through you. Your body locking up as you babbled his name into the humidity. And with that Sukuna finally— finally let go.
Ramming his cock up one, final time. He stilled. Deep and thrumming within you. Heat bursting from his gut and washing over him in a devastating wave of blissful carnage.
Loud and wrecked, his moan vibrated into your back. Hips rocking in small stutters as spluttering, white ropes creamed your cervix. Pouring his thick cum into every inch of your twitching cunt. Brimming you with him and his promise.
"Fucking. . . fuck. . . hah. Take it. Take all this cum in your pretty pussy." Slurs dragged up your throat, to your ear as you face limped into his arm. His voice husked, a vow.
"Just feel me breeding you full. Filling you with my cubs."
You whined, meekly rocking back into him. But he snatched your hips and pressed it down into the mattress with a soft hush.
The throbbing at his base thrummed into swelling. His knot bloomed until it lodged stiff in your cunt. Pulsing with your pathetic little twitches.
He watched your eyes widen and brows furrow. Your body locked up and a whimper strained from your swollen lips. "Mmm. That's your—"
"Mhhm. Just stay still."
Laving his tongue over one of the bites, Sukuna held you near. Savouring your warmth.
The silence finally didn't feel like a void. Even if it was heavy.
He held onto the moment. Clung to its peace as the warmth simmered into cooling sweat on your flesh.
You broke the quiet first.
"Did you mean that?"
He didn't answer you. But his hand cupped your tummy. Fingers still laced in yours as his face tucked against the back of your shoulder.
". . . Was it too much?"
He never thought his voice could ache.
You tried to shift again, and despite the lump in his throat, he clicked his tongue. Squeezed your thigh in warning. "I said stay still, didn't I?"
"You're never too much. Not for me, Sukuna."
There you went, saying his name like it meant something.
Nudging your face to his, Sukuna licked at the tears on your face. A tender act he never thought himself capable of. "Don't say shit like that."
"That I want you? Or that I love you?"
His breath hitched.
Once the knot settled, he pulled out. Hesitantly— especially with your heat still clinging to him.
"You love me?" He muttered, laying a kiss on your cheek. Then to your jaw. To your shoulder. Down your body until you were on your back.
Calloused thumbs swept your folds back. Eyeing the lewd streak of cum leaking out of you.
His eyes found yours as you spoke, tender.
"Do you want me to say it again?" One of your hands raked into his hair.
His face nudged between your thighs. His hummed approval followed the flat of his tongue. Laving up your slit. Licking away the mess and holding your thighs open amidst their intense shivers.
Even as you whined. With your eyes on the brink of tears. They were still soft for him.
"I love you."
You shouldn't.
He shouldn't.
But he still said it back.
"My mate."
Low, and grumbled, not those three words but something that spelt a deeper bond. One he finally had.
After licking you clean, Sukuna bundled you up into the sheets. Pushing himself from the bed and returning with a warm towel and a water bottle.
He cradled the back of your head as he gave you the water.
Worshipped your flesh as he wiped you down. Tracing over bruises and bites. His mark.
And when you were finally tucked into his arms. Dozing off with your head nestled on his heart that now beat for you. His tail curled around your leg and his claws soft on your curves. Sukuna understood.
we all know adult humans dont get enough enrichment but the other day i was walkin home past an empty playground and impulsively ran over to spin myself on this zipline merry-go-round contraption for a few minutes and it really did feel like it unlocked some neglected part of my brain. like damn we really should all go outside and play more. fuck. they werent kidding with this play time thing. have you guys heard about play time. it could be huge.
in which the men turn to the AITA subreddit for opinions on their relationship disputes. the comments aren't always the most...supportive
warnings: just fluff and crack, some cursing, some sexual language, prob not the most accurate depiction of reddit (I am not familiar with the platform so I did my best lol), non curse au mostly, NOT PROOFREAD (this was a pain to edit you don't even know so I don't want to hear it)
featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna
titsay
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
kaledo-art
