Synopsis: Buck!Sukuna is relentless when he’s in Rut. And you just so happen to smell far too good. Of course his royal seed is nearly instantaneous in its breeding.
Warnings: Smut, Hein!Era Sukuna, Breeding, Ruts, Heats, dub-con (but you love the thrill of the chase), impregnating, description of pregnant body, size-difference, semi-public smex, knotting.
A/n: Someone requested Buck!Toji but Buck!Sukuna wormed his way into my heart.
The Heian era was a time of wild, untamed forests. Where the scent of cherry blossoms mingled with the iron tang of blood spilled in the moonlight. And in the heart of those ancient woods, he hunted.
Sukuna, the monstrous buck hybrid, was no mere beast. He was a king of the wilds, his towering antlers casting jagged shadows across the undergrowth as he tracked you. Your scent had driven him into a frenzy for days now. The sweet musk of a fertile doe hybrid in heat, driving his instincts into a fever pitch.
He’d torn through villages, left corpses in his wake, all for the sake of finding you.
And now?
Now he had you.
You’d been foolish to think you could outrun him. Your delicate hooves stumbled over gnarled roots as Sukuna’s massive form emerged from the tree-line. His crimson eyes gleamed with Alpha hunger. His nostrils flared as he inhaled your fear, your arousal, the undeniable call of a doe ready to be bred.
“Found ya,” he snorted, spitting onto the ground beside your feeble frame.
You backed away, ears pinned flat against your skull. But there was nowhere left to run. Sukuna closed the distance in two strides, his long black nails wrapping around your throat.
“Gonna keep ya,” he growled, thumb brushing over your fluttering pulse. “Gonna fill ya so deep with my seed, you’ll forget what it’s like to walk without my fawn in yer belly.”
And as his other hand gripped your hip, dragging you flush back against the hard heat of his rutting cock, you realized—
There was no escape.
Your entire body quivered under Sukuna’s harsh gaze. Your delicate tail twitches nervously, trying in vain to press flush against your thighs, to shield the slick heat of your cunt from his burning stare. But it’s useless.
Sukuna smirks as he watches you try so hard to hide that sweet pussy from him. The slickness immediately soaks the fur of your tail, creating an even bigger mess for him to clean.
“Cute,” he chuffs. The ground seems to tremble beneath his weight, his massive antlers look like the branches of a dead tree above you. “Thinkin’ you can hide from me?”
His fingers catch the base of your tail, flipping it up exposing your glistening folds to the cool night air. You whimper, a high, pathetic sound that only makes his cock twitch in response.
“Mmmh… there it is,” his nostrils flare as he drinks in your scent. You are fertile, sweet, and dripping. “Knew you’d be pretty like this. All desperate ‘n wet for me.”
His thumb drags over your slit, collecting your slick before pressing it against your lips.
“Taste yourself,” he orders, pushing the pad of his calloused finger past your quivering lips. “Just a needy lil’ whore.”
A doe in heat. His prize for the chase.
Every instinct screams at you to run, but your body betrays you, knees trembling so violently they knock together. Your bleak mewl cuts through the woods, the sound of a trapped animal realizing there’s no escape.
Tears spill hot and fast down your cheeks, catching the moonlight as they drip onto the forest floor below. Your lips part around another pathetic sound but his thumb presses deep. His finger is bitter and sweaty, salty on your tastebuds.
“Ain’t that sweet?” he coos, mockingly gentle as he thumbs away a tear. “Cryin’ already, and I ain’t even fucked ya yet.”
His hand slides down your belly, fingers pressing cruelly into the softness there before dipping lower. He spreads your slick across your trembling thighs.
“Gonna ruin you,” he promises, massive palm splaying across your belly like he could force a fawn into you right this second. “Gonna hear you scream ‘fore I’m done.”
Your whimpers dissolve into shuddering gasps as Sukuna’s cock weighs so heavy on your lower back. His breath is hot against your ear, his chest rumbles with a growl. He drags his cock along your soaked folds, teasing your tight entrance. Your body betrays you by winking, clenching around nothing.
“Pathetic," he scoffs, sniffing at the smell of cloves in your hair. “Shakin’ like a leaf before I can even split this cunt open.”
A fresh wave of tears spills over as he notches himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing hard against your fluttering hole. Your hands scramble weakly back against his chest. You don’t push away, you cling, as if your traitorous body already knows there’s no mercy coming.
“S-S’kuna—!" you choke out, voice breaking around his name.
He doesn’t answer. His fat cock just finds its home. You don’t have time to stutter, to even complain as he feeds you each thick inch. You need to stand on your tippy toes or otherwise you’ll dangle from his cock. The size difference between you two is comical.
Almost as comical as the bulge peeking out from your soft underbelly.
The stretch is agonizing, your walls straining around his girth as he buries himself so deep you feel like choking. Your back arches, a broken wail tearing from your throat.
“Mm..so fuckin’ noisy. Yer luck I’m not a real predator." His cock grinds deeper against your sopping walls. "Couldn’t hide if ya wanted to. With that pretty mouth and this sloppy cunt.”
And as your sobs melt into shuddering moans, as your hips jerk weakly against his in a rhythm older than time itself.
You fall apart right there in the beast’ hold.
The truth was, you had been Sukuna’s long before tonight. His mark was already branded into your skin, his scent woven deep into your fur. His claim was undeniable. But when the fever of your heat had begun to rise, painting your cheeks pink and soaking your thighs with need, he had grinned down at you.
“Run.”
And so you had.
Not because you truly wanted to escape him. No, you were far too gone, too smitten for that. But because the thrill of the hunt, the pulse-pounding terror of hearing his footsteps crashing through the underbrush behind you, made your cunt clench around nothing.
”Knew you’d be like this,” Sukuna easily holds you by the waist, stretching your puffy sloppy hole faster. “All desperate ‘n drippin’ just ‘cause I chased ya.”
You wail and your lower hooves scrape against the dried leaves on the dirt.
“Next heat,” he punctuates his growl with a cervix stuttering thrust. “lI’ll let ya get farther.”
And as your vision whites out around the sensation of his knot swelling inside you, locking you together, you can’t help but shudder.
Because you already can’t wait.
Months later, Sukuna watches you with pride as you waddle through the forest clearing. Your belly is round and taut beneath the soft fabric of your robes. His seed had taken swiftly, your body accepting his cum without protest, swelling with the proof of his dominance.
Your frame is now plush, softened by pregnancy. Your hips are wider, thighs thicker, your milk-swollen tits straining against the fabric of your kosode. Every step makes your belly sway, the weight of his growing fawn pressing low in your womb.
Sukuna’s gaze burns as he watches you struggle to kneel by the stream, your movements are much slower now. But that makes you more vulnerable for those that would tear your throat out without a second thought.
“Look at ya” His heavy hooves crunch the river rocks under his body weight. “All fat ‘n pretty with my young.”
You whimper as he kneads the sensitive flesh. Your belly was taunt, and the young inside seemed to flutter at just his touch.
“S’kunaaa—” you bleat, but he silences you with his other hand cupping the back of your neck.
Pregnancy had ruined you in the most delicious way.
Your cunt was softer now, swollen with increased blood flow, your folds plush and sensitive to even the slightest brush of Sukuna’s fingers. The scent of you was richer, headier. An unmistakable musk of fertility that drove him wild whenever he caught it on the wind.
And the wetness, gods, the wetness was relentless. Your body produced slick in obscene amounts, as if preparing for his cock at all times. Even the lightest touch had you dripping, your entrance fluttering pathetically around nothing, begging to be filled.
Sukuna adored it.
“Fuckin’ made for me,” he’d growl, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds just to hear you whine. “Even knocked up, this cunt’s still hungry.”
And it was. She was starving.
The way your walls clenched around his fingers, the way your hips jerked weakly when he rubbed your swollen clit. You were insatiable.
Your hooves scramble weakly against the earth, but there’s no escape, not that you want one. When he hooks his fingers inside of you, it would take barely any strength to lift you off the ground with his fingers alone. You are forced yet again to rise to the tips of your hooves, clinging helplessly to his massive bicep.
"S-S’kuna—! Not fair, not fair!” You gasp, voice breaking as his thumb circles your oversensitive clit. Your cunt pulses, gushing slick around his fingers in a way that would’ve embarrassed you before.
Sukuna chuckles as he watches the way your belly quivers with each ragged breath.
A broken wail echoes through the trees as your orgasm crashes over you. You were so easy now. He could blow on your sweet pussy and she’d cum for him now.
He doesn’t stop, Sukuna is thorough. He just keeps grinding the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot inside. You’re sobbing, oversensitive and still grinding against his hand like a bitch in heat.
“You cannot even control yourself when we are so exposed” your watery eyes dance around the riverbed. A predator could lunge at any moment. Other Hybrids could walk in on the scene. But you stopped caring long ago. "Gonna have to fuck you again soon, just to shut this greedy cunt up."
But when you claw at his arm and shamelessly buck your round belly against him to seek yet another peak, he just rolls his eyes.
౨ৎ experienced!sukuna x virgin f!reader
[adult boutique au] - ongoing series
❝ chasing your dreams isn't all it's cracked up to be. your apartment shakes when the train passes and eating a scoop of peanut butter and calling it girl dinner is getting depressing. when you finally manage to land a job at a store that sells sex toys, it's possibly the biggest relief of your life. there's just one issue:
you're a virgin.
you don't know the first thing about toys and you don't want your cute and flirty white-haired co-worker to know. against your better judgement, you find yourself turning to your other co-worker for lessons and learn the hard way he's just as much of an asshole in bed as he is at work. ❞
౨ৎ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. fwb but you aren't friends. slow burn romance/fast burn smut. sukuna is 23ish, reader is 24/25ish. reader is sexually reserved but confident, nerdy, and a band geek. arrogant!sukuna. mild love triangle with gojo. dom!sukuna. mild corruption. size difference. sex toys & explorations of safety in kinks. destigmatization of virginity & sex. smut & piv. virginity loss. see masterlist for full cw.
౨ৎ wc ; 11.1k.
౨ৎ art ; ackshuallyvalerie
main masterlist || series masterlist || ⪡ prev || next ⪢
The door rattles on its hinges as the smell of approaching rain floods the shop’s interior. You can’t be sure whether the wind or Sukuna’s hand carries the door hard enough to slam on its hinges, his expression untelling. Little has changed since you asked him to be whatever the hell you are now two days ago, but you have noticed one thing, as small as it is.
His gaze lingers on you.
Not in the kind of way one might hope. You get the feeling that in spite of the fact that he’s still mildly inconvenienced by you, you equally surprised him. It’s as though he thought he had you figured out and now he’s trying to understand what he missed where once he was sure he had you read back to front like an open book.
It’s unnerving. The flapping of wings in the pit of your stomach is exchanged for a more ill-seated churning when Satoru leaves and Sukuna takes his place. Yesterday when you didn’t have the gumption to ask how the hell this arrangement was meant to work, you might have called it nerves, but by only day two, it’s just frustrating.
The brute glances up from whoever he’s texting, visibly fiddling with his lip ring that shifts each time his jaw ticks.
You meet his gaze from behind your phone, dropping the device from your gaze when he doesn’t waiver.
“Do you mind?”
His head tilts an inch, his chin raised just enough that his smirk feels condescending. “Not at all.”
You can’t decide whether you prefer Sukuna when the weather in his world is stormy or when it’s sunny and he’s amused. They’re a different brand of asshole.
“You know, asking you for help was pretty fucking hard to do in the first place,” you begin, frustrated with the theatrics of your co-worker. His brow cocks as you pin him in place with your words. “So I’d appreciate it if you stopped making me feel weird about it.”
His lips press into a thin line, any hint of amusement fading. “Look,” he begins with equal frustration. “I’m not trying to make you feel weird for asking for help. I don’t give a shit how you learn about what we sell, even if it’s because of Satoru. I told you that from the start. If you want someone’s instruction, whatever. That’s fine.” He pushes up off the counter, all six-foot-something of him towering over you. “You’re allowed to ask questions about sex, especially here. But you knew from the start what I’m like.”
The demeanor he carries himself with that gives you the sense he thinks he’s above not just you, but everyone, still simmers under his skin. You can see it in the way he carries himself, like that egotistical mindset never fades.
But you can’t be upset when he’s honest with you, and open too in the subject that makes your stomach flutter. His words aren’t comforting, but they settle your frustration and nerves. Something in the way he’s direct and has nothing to hide reminds you why you ever asked him in the first place.
Pushing his fingers back through his hair, he shakes his head. “Why not just tell Satoru you don’t have experience?”
Your shoulders rise and fall as you face him. “It’s not…” You sigh, your gaze falling. “Just about Satoru.”
“Then what’s it about? What’s getting to you so much that you asked me?”
Running your tongue over your lower lip, you worry it in between your teeth. When it takes you a moment too long to reply, Sukuna grunts questioningly again, pushing for an answer.
“I just…” you stall, scratching your shoulder. “I shouldn’t still be a virgin at this age, right?”
Somewhere under all of that snide overconfidence is a man who was raised right, in spite of all of his shortcomings and his belittling behaviour. His nose scrunches, his head shaking from side to side in short, disbelieving movements. “What? Who fucking cares, that’s your choice.” Then, something else dawns on him as he starts up again before you can answer. “Wait. You’re a virgin?”
“See, it does matter! And whether it’s Satoru, or any other guy, they’re just gonna think I’m a prude or something because I haven’t–”
Running a hand over the faint stubble along his chin, his jaw briefly hangs open as he listens to your retort. When you keep going, at last he interrupts. “No, it doesn’t matter.” He pauses, pinning you in place with adamance. “The reason I’m asking is because I want to make sure you actually want to do this shit with me,” he states plainly, no amount of teasing present in the serious gaze he fixes you with. “I’m not fucking around when it comes to boundaries and consent.”
As much as his condescension and total righteousness is frustrating, you can appreciate his ability to be serious when there’s a need. At least he has a couple of redeeming qualities under all of those layers of snide narcissism.
Shutting your eyes as you try to formulate an answer, you give a short shake of your head. “Look,” you sigh, waving a hand through the air as your lashes flutter. “I don’t know what possessed me to choose you,” you begin, earning a snide huff from the other party, “but I wanna do this. I’ve tried dating apps and things but I feel like it’s so hard to meet people organically and I finally found someone I really like, so I just don’t wanna mess things up with Satoru, okay?” Your shoulders hang as his expression remains largely unreadable.
Your closing remark has your co-worker dragging his hands down his face. When he finally drops them to his sides with a plop as they hit the denim of his jeans, he gives a haphazard shrug. “All this for that asshole,” he mutters. “Why start with an arrangement like this, anyway? Why not go to the bar if you’re so against dating apps? It’s not like some one night stand means anything either.”
You grimace. “I want someone I trust.”
He won’t admit it, but it’s humbling to a man like Sukuna. Not because he doesn’t think of himself as trustworthy, but because he’s given you no real reason to put so much of your trust in him. He’s been cruel from the start and only a few days ago was reminding you that no matter your deal, you aren’t friends.
He’s still for a long time, a genuine disgruntled frown unrelenting.
“Fine,” he gruffs at last. “For the record though, Satoru wouldn’t care that you’re a virgin. If he did, he’d be a piece of shit.”
If only your mind would wrap itself around that concept. Twenty some-odd years on an earth that treats virginity– particularly at your age– as taboo has taught you otherwise.
“Oddly insightful from you.”
Displeased as you throw snide commentary back at him, he takes another step forward. “No matter what you think of me, I wasn’t raised wrong.” His tone is low, almost dangerous, and you’re surprised when warmth spreads to the pit of your stomach. You’re grateful he’s already turned back to his laptop as you find yourself blinking at nothing in particular. “What did you want to try anyway? And you’re buying, FYI. This is for you, not me.”
You hum thoughtfully as you find yourself staring between the gaps in the shelves at the far end of the story. Your gaze briefly stops upon reaching the vibrators, which feels like a fairly low barrier of entry.
“A vibrator?” You query.
Sukuna, leaning over the counter on his elbows with his back facing you, rolls a muscle in his shoulder. “Sure.”
His lack of enthusiasm has you grimacing. “We get an employee discount, right?”
“Half-off.”
“That’s pretty good,” you comment in an attempt to make conversation as you slip out from the counter and walk to the wall to look over options.
He hums his agreement, typing as his eyes skim whatever project he’s working on.
Taking the hint, you let your attention drift back to the wall of silicone and plastic. Although there are a variety of different options, you’d made up your mind a while ago upon hearing Sukuna’s explanation.
With a small black bullet vibrator in a discreet box with a purple-blue gradient in-hand, you make your way back to the counter, setting it aside. Whether out of curiosity or a subconscious movement, Sukuna’s attention flips to you as he evaluates the box on the counter. He languidly shoots you a glance before you fall into nothing more than background noise for him once again. You don’t get much of an idea of his thoughts on your choice, if he has any.
And much like his silence on your choice, that’s how you spend the evening, aside from when he teaches you to close. Over the past month or so you’ve grown to find the dead air less and less uncomfortable and no longer feel the need to fill it. He still shoots you a disapproving side eye every time a customer asks a question that’s left to your anti-social co-worker because you can’t answer it, but it’s noticeably less harsh.
By, like, a fraction. He’s irritated still, but he’s not outright disappointed.
You call that a win.
You’re pretty sure your friends back home would call it sad.
But you can’t talk to Yuki or Choso about your arrangement with Sukuna anyway, so you suppose it’s not worth thinking too hard about it.
By the time you’re flipping the open sign and turning the lock on the door, Sukuna is ringing up the vibrator you chose, along with a bottle of something you didn’t add. He slides the payment terminal towards you as you make your way back. You don’t question his judgement upon finding the label to say toy cleaner. With your card in-hand, you find yourself hovering hesitantly over the payment terminal.
The question atop your tongue feels stupid.
“What?” Sukuna gruffs when you don’t speak your mind.
“Is this… a good choice?”
He sucks in a breath, measured. “It’s a fine first choice. It’s kinda cheap, but it’s a good starting point.”
“I know the quality and how long it’ll last would be affected, but does how cheap it is affect much beyond those two things?”
Another breath, but it’s equally measured. He picks up the box, his gaze darting across the lettering that covers it. “If it was your only toy, I’d say to invest in something better, but if we’re trying a lot, cheap is fine.” His mild expression seems to pick you apart when you’re faced with sanguine irises that flicker across your face. There’s the faintest hint of an upward quirk of his lips when he catches your pout.
“You never actually answered my question,” you mumble snarkily, snatching the box back from him.
No longer tempering his amusement, he shifts to the other foot with a full-blown smirk. “It’s a cheaper plastic or silicone. Less durable, the motor inside will give out quicker, and the battery won’t last as long. It’s louder than more expensive ones, too.” He glances at the box, a thoughtful narrow to his eyes. “It probably runs on watch batteries, which get expensive the more you go through.”
You recall him mentioning that to a customer, but given the circumstance, you suppose he’s right that it won’t matter. Nodding, you tap your card without another thought. He takes a bit of extra time to show you the remaining closing procedures which feels less like a courtesy and more like a curse given that you run on his clock at his will now, but you suppose a couple of extra hours won’t hurt here and there.
Even if you won’t be paid.
Shutting off the lights at the back, you make your way to the door where he waits. “So,” you start, digging through your bag for your keys, “my place is pretty noisy, should we–”
“Where do you live?”
“Oh, uh– I’m next to the station on third street.”
“Good. Meet me at the pub on the corner.”
You blink as he tosses you the store keys, barely managing to catch them in clumsy fingers. Before you can even protest, he’s already getting into the old but well-maintained black Honda across the street.
“O-kay,” you mutter to yourself, turning back to the door as you pull down the security shutter, locking both it and the glass door. His engine has already rumbled long into the distance by the time you finish fiddling with the old finicky locks and get in your beat-up vehicle. “You have to wait for me anyway, asshole.” Your muttering somehow feels better left for the world to hear rather than internalized.
The ride to the coffee shop has you once again replaying every life decision that brought you to this point in life. Maybe you should have given time to that guy who was trying to flirt with you in the library. Then again, you were studying for your final. Maybe you should have indulged the man who told you that you were pretty at a karaoke bar once. Well, no, he was creepy.
You’ve just been focusing on yourself and your fingers have done the trick anytime you were horny.
Not to mention, you can’t help but find that you don’t see yourself in porn and it doesn’t leave you feeling satisfied. That’s not even beginning to mention that much of what you found feels performative, which doesn’t cut it at an adult shop.
Though, that’s a lie too. Because at the end of the day although you are curious and this is something that you’re intrigued by given your environment lately, you’re equally hoping to impress Satoru.
Maybe Sukuna’s right that you should just tell him.
But that also feels like an uphill battle.
Stupid. This whole thing has you feeling like you’re overthinking everything and in an effort to stop thinking so damn much, you shut your car off and push into the pub.
Sukuna’s sitting in a booth at the back, already nursing a drink in one hand. His opposite arm is lazily strewn across the back of the booth, his gaze following you with that striking intensity that never fails to make your hair stand on end. Slipping in across from him, you watch as he leans back, completely at ease. As much as his arrogance can piss you off, his ability to remain calm and even puts out any fires your nerves threaten to stoke.
“Want anything?” He asks, jutting his chin towards the drink menu. Curiously, you flip to the first page before Sukuna’s hand comes down authoritatively, stopping you from browsing the menu he just offered. He flips to the back page confidently. “Non-alcoholic only.”
Fixing him with a scowl, you point towards his drink. “What are you drinking, then?”
He slides it an inch closer to you, an offer to test him. “Non-alcoholic IPA.” He lifts his hand from the menu, finally allowing you to browse your options as he leans back again. “We have rules to go over. Need your head on right and your consent after.”
As much as you don’t appreciate his commanding nature, you can admit it settles your nerves that he’s taking this seriously. He’s so flippant and dismissive when he wants to be that the soberness with which he’s treating the situation is reassuring.
In fact, it’s even a little hot, as much as you don’t even want to so much as think of the compliment. Truthfully though, you appreciate that he knows when to turn the damn attitude down.
Inhaling slowly, you look over the menu, waiting for the waiter to arrive. You order a Pepsi just for the sake of having something to hold and hide your fiddling as Sukuna’s gaze scarcely departs you.
“I thought we went over the rules already?” You ask when you finally have something to focus on. The condensation is cool against your fingers, a much-needed departure from the facetious personality across from you.
“Of the agreement, sure.” He starts, bringing his glass to his lips as he leans back casually. “But I’m not doing this without knowing what you want.”
“I thought I–”
He doesn’t give you the time of day, glass still held between his fingers as he leans forward on his forearm. “You want me in charge, yeah?”
You blink, nodding.
“You understand that that puts me in a dominant position for our agreement, correct?”
Your cheeks warm as you nod again. “That’s kinda what I wanted,” you admit quietly.
He hums, a hint of his teeth gleaming behind a smirk. He lets the moment hang a second longer, basking in the way you squirm under his gaze. Throwing back what’s left of his drink, he sets the glass on the table with a dull clank. “Right,” he begins, “so you’ve never been with anyone before?” He asks, growing more serious again.
His ability to casually swing back and forth between both moods is beginning to piss you off.
“Yeah, you know that,” you reply snarkily.
His eyes narrow. “Not what I mean, sweetheart. You ever done anything with anyone? In any capacity?”
You chew on your lip briefly. “I gave a guy a handjob once,” you admit quietly, painfully aware of the public setting.
Sukuna’s eyes avert for a moment as he considers how to approach things. “That's it?”
“I– Yeah, can you stop asking?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, frowning. He lays his thoughts out plainly, straight to the point and without the arrogant attitude. “Think what you want of me, but I’m not trying to embarrass you. I already told you it doesn’t matter. I’m asking because it gives me a good sense of where to start.”
Sitting upright, you nod slowly.
“Do you masturbate?”
With every question, you swear your face gets warmer. “Yeah.”
“But no toys?”
“No.”
He rolls his jaw, prodding his tongue against the side of his mouth. “Alright. I can work with that. Do you know what you like when you touch yourself?”
“Do we have to do this somewhere so public?”
He snorts. “No one’s listening. The closest table is so sloshed you’d think it’s three in the morning,” he points out, motioning over your shoulder. Admittedly, he’s right. There’s a group of three women and two men all slumped over, eyes red-ringed and laughter bubbling from within.
With a sigh, you turn back to him. “Fine. So what rules do we need to go over, then?”
“I need to know what’s completely off-limits for you.” He taps a finger once on the table. “I’m kinky but there’s shit I’m not into either.”
“Okay, um,” you take a moment to consider the toys lining the walls and some of the porn you’ve seen while browsing. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t think I’d be into whips or spanking.” Sukuna hums. “I know the candles are for… wax play, right?”
“Mhm. Some people like the pain.”
“I don’t think I would want anything painful.”
He nods his agreement. “Anything like that is off the table.”
Tapping your nails along the sides of your glass, you wrack your brain of the items that line the walls at work. “I don’t think I’m into collars or muzzles or anything.”
“Alright. No pet play. You not into being tied up, or just the pet part?”
Your hesitation is brief as you consider the difference. “I think I’d be okay with being tied up,” you muse. “Not yet, but–” you shrug, cracking a smile. “It sounds kinda fun.”
Sukuna smirks. “She’s a little kinky, I like it.” His lidded expression sends heat up the back of your neck and straight to the pit of your stomach. You adjust the way you’re seated, crossing one leg over the other as you focus on the glass in front of you. Amused, your counterpart pushes for details. “What about gags, handcuffs, and blindfolds?”
“I’d be open to those.”
His smirk grows, teeth bared just enough to call it a grin. “Alright. No whips, and pet and pain play are past the ceiling. Anything more intense than that’s off the table, yeah?”
You nod, grateful that he isn’t leaving you to try to come up with things when you’re scarcely familiar with the products at your own job.
“Hair pulling? Choking?”
You take a moment to consider it, but nod. “That’s fine.”
That seems to be the majority of his questions as he leans back in his seat again, stretching his arms overhead. He has that same expression from the day you originally made the agreement, the one that makes you feel like you’re no longer background noise in his world. Like you’ve surprised him and he’s willing to humor you.
“Alright. Anything else we can go over if it comes up,” he shrugs. “I just needed a baseline.” Yawning, he takes a moment to let his thoughts settle as he works out details in his mind. It gives you a moment to reset, gratefully taking the opportunity as you lean back in your seat, no longer fixated on your glass.
It occurs to you in that moment that he’s surprisingly quelled your nerves. You can’t place whether it’s through making a point of doing this in a public setting but ensuring this stays between you, or the way he’s actually maneuvering this conversation in a way that makes you feel open and in charge. Either way, you have to hand it to him that for a guy who’s made it clear he isn’t fond of people, he’s good with them. With you.
He spends a moment thinking things through before at last continuing. “Are you familiar with the traffic light safe word system?”
You meet his gaze, shaking your head.
“I need you to understand that even if I’m the dom, your word is my law. You tell me green and you leave shit in my hands to make you feel good. You tell me yellow and we’ll stop for a bit to figure out what you don’t like or what doesn’t feel good. You tell me red and my hands are off of you. What you say goes, you understand?” He leans forward with an intensity that seeps straight to your bones.
“Okay. I understand.”
“Good.” His shoulders rise and fall as he sucks in a breath, letting it out gradually. “And for the record, no kissing. No making out. No sex.”
As he repeats his rules, you press your lips into a thin line at how much he loves to remind you that you aren’t friends and these aren’t benefits. “You mentioned.”
“I’ll take my shirt off if it makes you comfortable, but that’s all you’re getting from me.”
“How sweet,” you comment dryly as he completely ignores your previous retort.
He grins, shrugging like the chivalrous man he is. “You didn’t ask for love, sweetheart.”
“And if I had?”
His grin stays in place, his chin lifting an inch as he regards you with the kind of expression only someone as conceited as Sukuna himself can manage. “Then you’d be switching to morning shifts.”
You want to roll your eyes, but you can at least respect his honesty, even if it’s painfully self-centered. You suppose it’s in part why trust comes easily with him. It’s not out of respect or friendship, but rather the simple fact that he doesn’t sugarcoat things. For better or for worse, he means what he says and has nothing to hide.
Jutting his chin in a motion to your nearly-finished glass, he keeps that painfully smug expression as he gruffs out a question. “Ready to go?”
Downing the last of your drink, you nod as you make your way to the bartender. She rings up your drinks together, only for Sukuna to step aside for you to pay.
Chivalry might just be dead, after all.
Your counterpart shoves his hands into his pockets with a haughty smirk, watching every micro expression cross your face as realization tents your brow, before twisting into a glare. Sukuna’s gait is entirely casual as his boots hit the pavement outside. When he comes to a halt by his car, his hand settles on the roof. “Send me your address,” are his last words before he ducks into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbles on and his music begins in an instant, a booming bassline that’s faintly familiar, but it’s too muffled to make out.
Sucking in a breath, you let the music fade as you head for your car, sending him your address just around the corner. You take an extra moment to make it to your car, breathing in the cool summer night air. The ever-present murky smell of smog hits you the moment the sharp scent of alcohol dissipates, but you’ve grown accustomed to it by now. The air on your skin is refreshing, and gives you a moment to think.
In spite of his frustrating tendencies, Sukuna treats sex– in all forms– differently from the men you’re used to. Not just men, but everyone. Even your closest friends. It’s not an expectation, it’s not something that requires any pressure. It’s whatever you want it to be, and whatever you’re comfortable with.
You appreciate the fact that in spite of you wanting him to take charge, this is all still at your beck and call. Sukuna says everything like it is. As much as you despise that for how plainly he’ll point out any fault the moment he finds it or throw you under the bus in a heartbeat when he sees himself as a man who’s always in the right, you appreciate the fact that he doesn’t make things into a spectacle either.
How many parties have you been to where ‘never have I ever’ turned into a wave of judgement, or a game where you found yourself lying to avoid it? How many times have you avoided parties altogether, hating the way all concepts surrounding you seemed to change over something that shouldn’t be everything it’s so often perceived as?
Hell, growing up in an era where sex was perceived as something cool and sold to adults through media only to be thrust into a new era where censorship is pushed more than education, it was bound to twist the perception around virginity.
Your own insecurity is an unfortunate side effect of those two very things clashing with one another. Just like your insecurity in the impression you’ve given Satoru, regardless of if you’ve actually spoken to him or not.
Which is why Sukuna’s attitude around sex is a breath of fresh air. There’s no judgement from him that you’ve abstained for so long.
And for that, you find yourself excited as you pull up to your house.
The man in question is parked before you even arrive, standing at the brick staircase by the time you lock your vehicle. The three-story building towers overhead, yet he still looks big at the base of the stairs.
His arms are crossed as he leans back casually, eyes on his phone. The racing jacket he sports hangs heavily over his broad shoulders. It looks like a replica F1 jacket of sorts, and in spite of its large size, the muscle definition beneath the tank top clinging to his skin is still obvious. It’s almost unfair that he’s so attractive and such a dick.
Just as the thought crosses your mind, his crimson eyes lift from his phone screen. He pockets it, looking you up and down once before letting you lead the way. You pull the front gate open without a word, unlocking the inner door and shutting it to latch behind you. Your apartment resides on the second floor, a single room backing onto the subway. Convenient, but noisy as all hell.
You like to think of it as the epitome of what it means to chase your dream, but in reality you know it’s little more than measly tape to cover up the fact that it feels more like failure. You’ve only been here for a couple of months and played at a couple of crappy venues that didn’t turn out well and you aren’t about to give up now, but your apartment fails to feel like home.
When you flick the lights on, it gives a warm glow to the run-down apartment.
“Make yourself at home,” you offer of the small space. It’s nothing more than a studio with a bathroom. A kitchenette sits at your immediate left with a microwave, fridge, and a single plug-in hot-plate, while your bed is pushed into the corner at the back. You’ve managed to fit a small TV on a table in the corner, and a tiny couch beside it, but that’s about all there is to see of your small space. Wallpaper peels at the top corners and there are stains and scrapes over the old wooden floor that could very well be older than you.
You’ve done what you can with the space. Over the couch is a number of signed and framed band posters and by the TV sits a cork board with memorabilia pinned to it. Old concert ticket stubs, set lists, and guitar picks all pinned or clipped in place. A lamp sits behind the TV in the corner that makes the space feel more warm, giving light to the two gaming systems sitting under the table. It’s not perfect, but it’s very you.
As you set your keys and bag on what little counter space you have, Sukuna takes in the sight of the small space, his gaze lingering on the signed posters and memorabilia before landing on your guitar, leaning against the couch haphazardly.
“You’re a concert girl?” He queries. It’s hard to get a read on where the question comes from when his tone lacks any real interest or enthusiasm.
“When I could afford it,” you agree with a wry laugh.
He hums, kicking his shoes off and dropping his jacket beside your guitar on the couch. He plops down on the double bed, picking up a drumstick sat on the small night stand wedged between the bed and the tiny table the TV sits atop. He twirls it on a finger as he continues to look around while you fiddle with the box for the bullet vibrator you got, picking at the tape keeping it shut.
Like a sixth sense, your hair stands on-end when his striking gaze settles on you again. He continues to fiddle with the drumstick, but his expression is otherwise unreadable. His slightly narrowed gaze gives you the idea that something is on his mind. “What?”
“Just thinking,” he mutters, his gaze dropping the full length of your body again.
Standing still at the counter, you chew on the inside of your cheek as he checks you out. Or something similar to that. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this question would arise. A part of you had hoped to avoid it, but given the nature of your agreement with Sukuna, the question doesn’t bother you as much as it might from someone else.
“I won’t be offended, you know.”
The drumstick stills in Sukuna’s fingers. “About what?”
“If you ask.”
“Can you be fucking direct?” He sneers, his eyes narrowed to pinpricks as he fixes you with the kind of gaze that would have made your skin crawl a month ago. Back then, you would have taken it for genuine frustration, but you know now that this is a man who finds pleasure in the fact that one look can make someone avert their gaze.
But you don’t budge, turning to face him with the bullet vibe in-hand. “You wanna know why I’m still a virgin if I’m open enough to ask you for this arrangement.”
You can’t blame him. You get the feeling you’re a year or two older than him based on the fact that you graduated already and he’s in his last year. Your reply even seems to intrigue him as he leans forward just enough to show interest. You have his attention, although he doesn’t say it. He may not judge you for it, but you certainly can’t blame him for being curious. After all, your request was a bold one in the first place.
With a sigh, you set the toy on the counter as you manage to free it from its packaging. “You know how I told you I’m from a small town?”
“Mhm.”
“How small do you think I meant?”
He shrugs, having clearly never considered the question. “Ten thousand,” he throws out a haphazard guess.
“Four hundred people.”
His nose wrinkles at the mere thought. Fitting for a guy who seems well-versed in navigating life in a massive city.
“So my options kinda sucked with guys my age,” you laugh dryly, returning to the counter where you set the toy down. You turn to him suddenly, a finger held out pointedly towards his chest. “Don’t even get me started on the older men.”
He snorts, barely more than a push of air from his nostrils that gives way to his amusement.
“It was one of those roadside attraction towns where our whole thing was like,” you wave a hand through the air, looking for the right words to describe it. “Having one of those weird statues or whatever that people will pull over to see.”
“Yeah? So what weird thing did you have, then?”
You crack a smile. “The world’s largest garden gnome.”
He blinks in disbelief, in sudden understanding of the whole situation. One single garden gnome painting a whole picture of who you are and how you grew up. “Damn. That blows.” There’s something so strangely friendly in the interaction that’s unbefitting of everything he is, but for a moment you forget this is Sukuna you’re speaking with.
You laugh. “Yeah. It’s not even the world’s largest anymore from what I’ve been told. So now we’re the ‘original’,” you make finger quotations in the air, “world’s largest garden gnome.”
He snorts again, pushing a hand back through his hair. “No wonder you like punk music. You did need to get out of your town.”
You surprise even yourself at how heartily you laugh. When he’s not being a stick-in-the-mud, it turns out he’s kinda funny. In fact, when he isn’t acting like he’s above you, there’s even a sort of warmth to him that you don’t mind. Whether it’s a public front and he’s dropped the curtain for a moment or he’s growing more comfortable with you is yet to be determined.
Or maybe this is like a one time event that you were lucky enough to witness.
“You must have gone to the city pretty often if you go to a lot of concerts,” he muses. “No interest in hooking up with a guy or doing this shit with someone before now?”
You frown, glancing up from the instructions on the bottle of toy cleaner as you loosely skim them. “I never really considered any of this until the shop. And I’d rather be with someone I know.”
He grunts in irritation before you even finish the first sentence, but he lets it go by the time you finish. At least his frustration with you is purely on a work level. “You don’t know me,” he points out. “You don’t know jack shit about how I am in bed and you barely know me outside of it.”
“I trust you, though.”
His gaze drifts to the floor, something stoic passing over his expression as he allows the thought to sink in. “You trust me,” he parrots dryly, for no other reason than to solidify them for himself. You open your mouth to elaborate, but he’s already talking over you before you can spit out a second word. Infuriating man. “Right. And now you want me to show you the ropes–” he pauses at the irony of his statement, a smug smirk returning to his lips. “Literally.” He stands up from your bed, tossing the drumstick aside in the midst of his amusement.
With a roll of your eyes, you stop whatever narcissistic or teasing comment was about to leave his parted lips, steering the conversation another way before he’s too frustrating to handle. “I can make a guess.”
Sukuna pauses, stepping towards you with curiosity. “About–” he raises his brows. “What I’m like? In general, or in bed?”
“Both,” you shrug. “You like to be in charge. You like to have someone who’s willing to admit that you’re better at something and you like to be mean about it. You like when people feel small around you, it makes your ego feel good like the big man that you are.”
Where you expect offense, you only find amusement, which unfortunately isn’t in your favor either. At the end of the day, he’s still running this interaction like he owns it. His head tilts, his grin unrelenting. The way the muscle shirt he sports clings to his chest as it rises and falls feels unfair. He’s a tease without trying, all because he has the fortune of being hot. “Oh?” His voice comes low, a grit to it that sends heat between your thighs. “Are we guessing, or psychoanalyzing?”
You shrug. “It can be whatever you want.”
His gaze flickers around your face as you move past him to the spot where he was just seated. The amusement laced through sanguine eyes as he watches you sits under your skin in the kind of way that has you grimacing. The way he picks you apart so effortlessly is a shadow compared to the pile of things about him that frustrate you, but you hate the way it gets under your skin.
He has no issues making himself at home either, moving his jacket aside so he can manspread obnoxiously on the couch across from your bed. Your brows tent downwards as he doesn’t hesitate to reach for your guitar either, as though he knows that, too, will get under your skin. “Here, I’ll move that.”
You dart towards him, picking the instrument up before his fingers can graze the neck, setting in on the stand it should have been on anyway. His brow quirks, head tilting as he watches your every movement. The way he moves through life so easily is grating.
When you take a seat again across from him on your bed, you tap your foot a couple of times on the worn wood below. It sounds hollow, even beneath your clothed feet. “So… What should we do?” You query, praying you can find a rhythm with him that makes everything more comfortable.
A smile curls at the corners of his lips. “I told you. You’re–”
His words come to a quick halt, expression twisting into disbelief and clear concern as your apartment rattles briefly, before the obvious noise of the subway passing behind the building follows, and the room settles as it comes to a stop. Unphased, you await his next words.
“You fucking live with that?”
You shrug. “Yeah. I uh– didn’t really realize it would be an issue until I moved in.”
A puff of air leaves his nose, his eyes trailing between you and the window where the train’s shadow cast across the floor moments ago. “How the fuck do you sleep? The subways run all night.”
“They’re less frequent at night,” you offer.
“How the fuck do you get off with that noise?”
Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you shrug. “It’s just background noise.”
Sukuna hangs in a state of disbelief for a moment, crimson boring into you like even he’s questioning how the fuck he got here now. When the moment settles, he runs his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head, muttering a curse under his breath. “You’re something.”
“Thanks,” you reply dryly. The nerves of opening yourself up to someone buzz more as you draw Sukuna’s attention away from the train. Your leg bounces involuntarily, a hollow thump to it as you wait for a reply to your question, no matter how snarky it’ll inevitably be.
But the arrogance never comes. His eyes flicker down to your leg, the previous curl of his lips gone and replaced with something far more staid. With a hand on the couch’s armrest, he moves across the small room with ease, his large frame casting a long shadow over the floor as he blocks the lamplight. Your heart pumps hard against its cage, jumping to your throat when his palm settles on your leg, pressing it to the hardwood to stop its pace.
“Relax.” His voice has a sultry tone that feels foreign to you yet lived-in, like he knows just how to pitch his voice to send it like a shock straight to your stomach. You shift at the sensation, drawn to his gaze as he leans in with a brazen chuckle, clearly pleased that he can affect you in such a way. “Stop talking. Stop thinking. About all of this shit. About me, about the job, the money, the train. Turn your brain off.”
He’s right, painfully so, about every little thing on your mind. But the most relief you usually get is a warm cup of tea on a cool night, and even then it’s disturbed by a train every few minutes. It’s not like you haven’t masturbated, particularly since starting at the shop, but your brain always seems to need something to latch onto and porn feels so performative you can’t get into it.
Sukuna gives you something to focus on, taking the bullet vibrator from within your fidgeting hands as his other hand glides from your thigh to your torso over your shirt. His thumb frames your breast, the sensation sending a shiver straight up your spine. He uses just enough force that you could call the pressure he uses to guide you back onto your bed a ‘suggestion’ rather than a command.
“Give me a color.”
“Green.”
“Good,” he hums, low and smug as you watch his smirk grow into something painfully self-assured and egotistical as he flashes his teeth. You don’t have time to be annoyed when your lashes are already fluttering as he drags the bullet vibrator in his palm over your clothed pussy with just enough pressure that your breath catches. “And it’s not even on yet,” he purrs in that ever-condescending tone.
“I should have asked someone less–”
He grinds the vibrator against your clit in an effort to stifle your attitude, shooting you a smug smirk when it works. “But you didn’t.”
Your scowl barely has a chance to form before it dissipates as he glides a thumb beneath your shirt. The sensation has you shivering as he scrutinizes every micro expression you make when his thumb glides over the sensitive skin of your bare stomach. Goosebumps rise in its stead, inevitable as your body reacts to the sensation. You jolt when his touch is so feather-light that it feels more ticklish than something sensual, and like everything else he picks it up and files it away for later.
When he stops at your hipbone and dips two fingers beneath your waistband, you instinctively suck in a breath, stiffening. His movement pauses, eyes narrowing as he fixes you with a sharp gaze that you recognize as instruction.
“Green,” you breathe.
Something smug in his expression has you swallowing your pride at the realization that submission came easily. He’s too keen to have not noticed how you’re not running your mouth anymore, and you don’t need to read between the lines to know that he enjoys that fact.
With your consent, two fingers drag your pants down, haplessly discarded as his gaze trails the length of your legs slowly. You can’t make out what he’s thinking, your hair standing on end as some part of you longs for warmth in a partner who might revere you, but that isn’t what you asked for. It’s not who Sukuna is.
When his eyes meet yours, they narrow an ounce. “Stop worrying,” he admonishes the thoughts he seems to be able to sense as though your insecurities are written in the air for him to see. It warms your cheeks further than they already are. When he catches the twitch of your brow, whether it’s a tell that he’s correct or some bratty form of defiance, he brings a hand to your jaw, his thumb and finger forcing you to keep his gaze. “I’m serious. Bodies are all different, and–”
“That doesn’t make me feel better, Suku–”
His thumb and finger shift until he’s pressing your cheeks together to shut up your protests. “Everyone is different. You should be. Stop fucking worrying.” He loosens his grip enough to allow you to nod, no longer pursing your lips. “Focus on my hands. Focus on the feeling. Don’t think about the fucking train that’s gonna pass in three minutes. Don’t distract yourself.”
He releases your face, shifting his hand until he’s prodding your abdomen pointedly with a finger. He waits for your gaze to follow before continuing.
“Masturbation is one thing because you know exactly what you want and can make yourself finish quickly, but bringing another person into things changes how your body and brain work.” He moves his hand back to the bed as he leans over you, watching with a faint smirk as the other hand presses the small vibrator, still off, into your clit and you take in a sharp breath. “If you get distracted by all the dumb shit going through your head and don’t stay focused on how you’re feeling, your body won’t let you cum. You’ll go straight into overstimulation without orgasm, or your body just won’t respond. It’s common as shit and a lot of people don’t think they can cum with a partner.”
You blink at how strangely insightful and educational the tattooed prick can actually be. Your shoulders fall into the mattress as you focus on the pressure of the hard silicone pressed into your clothed pussy.
There’s another side to it as well that has your mind ready to reel into something far more tangential, as much as you know you should listen to his advice. The fact is that the very same man who told you not to expect love or care from him is sitting here reassuring you, all the while explaining to you just how much he understands the human body. It’s not just from a biological or fact-driven perspective either, he’s putting your pleasure first.
Sure, it’s worth acknowledging that at the end of the day your arrangement does revolve around your pleasure, but Sukuna’s not just insightful. In one way or another, it’s caring. Whether he wants to acknowledge it or not, you’ve heard horror stories of men not being able to find the clit and it’s driven you further into insecurity surrounding the very concept of sex as someone with no experience.
Sukuna isn’t just skilled or good as you’re sure he’ll put it. He’s put time into this. Not just the kind that comes with being with people, but the kind that comes with research and education.
You knew he could talk about toys without batting an eye.
This is deeper.
He flicks your forehead, eyes flashing with irritation as you protest with a yelp. “What did I just tell you?”
“You’re just kinda being sweet,” you excuse yourself, blinking at him from where he’s crouched over your lower torso.
Something flashes in his eyes. “Don’t fucking mistake being good at what I do for sweetness.” His lip curls, the word dripping in disgust like the very concept is venomous to him. “Or do I need to remind you that this is a fucking deal and the moment this shit’s over you’re nothing more than my co-worker who doesn’t know fuck-all about the product?”
You let out a disbelieving scoff at the way he manages to kill the vibe entirely over what you might consider a compliment. “You’re right. You’re a dick.”
He straightens as he takes command of the situation once more, making himself look bigger as he leans over you. He shifts the reins like he owns your every reaction and can predict the situation. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the bullet vibe on, the vibration a sudden and intense sensation even over your panties. It’s a stark contrast to what your fingers feel like.
“Now stop thinking.” He drags the vibrator from your clit back across your clothed slit, your lips parting as you arch into the sensation.
“How am I supposed to focus when you’re being such an ass?” You grit in spite of the pleasure.
“Now you know why I’m good at this shit.”
He drops the attitude again as he manages to turn you on without the sensual touch or words of a partner, but rather through other methods.
Keeping a steady, albeit low vibration setting over your clit through your panties, he slips a hand under your shirt again. His thumb glides smoothly over your nipple, raising goosebumps along with his calloused touch. Sharp crimson eyes fix on the way your gaze finally shifts from his movements to the ceiling, your hands reaching for the blanket laying over the mattress. Your fingers curl into the cotton as all thoughts of insecurity and Sukuna’s attitude finally dissipate and all you’re left with is a tingling sensation that spreads warmly to your extremities.
“Thaaat’s it,” he guides you in a low tone that acts like sparks in your mind, kindling a fire that burns out whatever last thoughts served as a distraction. At last it’s just you and the sensation of his finger circling your nipple, slow and sensual as he takes the time needed to work your body up to a point where the vibrator won’t be too much.
The mattress dips as Sukuna shifts, his footsteps lost on you as the train passes by the window. It’s nothing more than background noise with your exterior senses dulled to focus only on touch. You blink at the tattooed man as the noise of the vibrator is silenced, lidded eyes watching his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.
“Color?”
You swallow hard. His gaze lowers as he watches the movement, every tiny detail catalogued as he reads your reaction.
“Green,” you reply, breathless.
He gives a nod, fixed still on your expression when he gives the first tug. On instinct your legs twitch to close, so he guides you through the nerves rather than ignoring them. “You’re good,” he gruffs. It’s not soothing, but somehow it settles a modicum of the uncertainty that comes with putting your trust in someone else in such a vulnerable way.
Once they’re over your knees, he tugs the panties off, sending them across the room.
You still can’t help instinctively trying to hide yourself from him, squeezing the blanket tighter between your fingers as the cool air of your apartment reaches your dripping core.
“You want my shirt off?”
The question hangs before you, eyes dipping down to the black muscle shirt he sports, tight over his built chest. It’s the kind of thing you would spot at a gym, but it’s just loose enough over the rest of his torso that it looks less like he’s showing off and more like he effortlessly owns the look and everyone else is just mirroring him.
Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. When you meet his gaze again, it’s smug. He knows every last word that just ran through your head like he’s heard it before and the thought should piss you off, but you can’t be too bothered when he sets the vibrator on your abdomen and grabs the hem of his shirt with crossed arms. He pulls it up over his head with intention, flexing his biceps as he does so and sets it aside. Conveniently, his shirt doesn’t fly across the room.
The tattoos that curl around the sides of his neck snake over his shoulders in thick off-black lines that curve over his pecks. There are another set of bands similar to his wrists on his upper biceps and circles at his shoulders. They sharpen the persona given off by his intense egoism and dyed black hair, but they also accentuate his muscles in the kind of way that has your pupils dilating as you trail over the lines before falling to his abs.
As if that sight isn’t a show enough, at the base of his abdomen is a snail trail that you fix on just enough to earn a chuckle. It’s startlingly pink, matching the roots you spot every few weeks when they grow out.
Your hips shift as your stomach clenches at the sight. The cool air makes it obvious how turned on you are, and when you look back up, Sukuna is smirking. You’re feeding his ego more than you could know.
Satisfied with your reaction, he settles both hands on your thighs, slowly pulling them apart. Exposed to him once again, you find that action has surprisingly replaced your nerves with something far more debauched that has your mind racing.
This time, in all the right ways.
When your legs stay spread, he picks the vibrator back up, flicking it back on in one deft movement. The bed dips when he settles between your legs, dragging the vibrator through wet folds and over your clit, you arch into it with a soft moan. “Now you’re getting it,” he smirks as at last you let go of the endless stress of thoughts and give in to pleasure. “A bullet vibe is too small for much else besides placing direct pressure on the clit,” he explains as though your mind isn’t on another plane. “So it works best with other forms of stimulation.”
He keeps the small vibrator pressed directly to your clit. Your head falls back into the mattress, balling the fabric of your blankets up into your fists.
“You gotta work with me if you want this shit to work,” he continues, his hand pressing your thigh down when he adds additional pressure to the vibrator and your legs jolt shut on instinct. “What feels good?”
“I– hah–” You blink, cloudy eyes fluttering open to drag across the ceiling until they find his gaze, impossibly red and horribly smug as a moan tears your words apart. “The pressure is nice.”
“Nice?” He parrots the word, dripping in amusement. “I’m using a vibrator on you, don’t mince your words.”
You arch into the sensation in spite of his chatter, but he pulls away when you don’t reply immediately. Swallowing hard, you adjust your grip on the blankets and blink as your mind reels trying to catch up to what he wants. “It gets me a lot closer when you press it into my clit.”
He hums.
“But it’s kinda nice when you take it away too, makes the feeling l-last longer,” you stammer over the sentence when he tests your words, pulling it away for a moment. Your hips jolt, but the sensation is nice.
Vibration isn’t like your fingers. It’s far more intense and works you to the edge quicker when Sukuna knows how to maneuver the toy. “That’s called edging,” he gruffs, pulling the vibrator back as he waits for your eyes to meet his again. “This is a pretty tame form of it, but the human body wasn’t built for a vibrator so you’ll cum too fast if I don’t and it’s not as good.” You nod weakly, gaze flickering back down to the small device that he’s still holding away from your body. “Some people like being brought to the edge and coming down over and over, though. If that’s something you wanna try, that’s fine, but let me learn what you like first.”
You nod again, chewing on your lower lip as you buck your hips into his waiting hand.
He clicks his tongue, amused. “Eager.” Before you can retort with something equally cheeky, he presses the vibrator back to your clit as the stimulation curls through your body again, warm and welcome. It blossoms from your stomach to your chest until you can feel yourself teetering at the edge again, only for Sukuna to pull back. “Finger yourself.”
“What? Me?”
“You fucked stupid already?” Condescending prick. “Yeah, you. I told you, a bullet vibe works best with outside stimulation and I wanna see what you do to get off.”
You huff out a sigh, but your fingers slip from the blanket, down your body until you feel slick gather along your fingers. They’re cold, the thin windows giving way to a chill that seeps into your skin. The sensation has you sucking in a breath when they touch your skin, one finger slipping first between your folds, cool and pleasant, and then another. You work yourself open at a comfortable pace and adjust your hips until you find a rhythm and depth that feels nice, though it’s nothing compared to the vibrator.
“Could you cum just from that?”
“I don’t think so,” you breathe.
He hums in acknowledgement, pressing the vibrator with gradual pressure back into your clit. Your fingers stutter, pausing altogether. “Keep going,” he mutters. Even through the fog of bliss, you follow his instructions and keep the pace, your fingers curling into your walls as they begin to convulse around you.
Your breaths turn to soft, somewhat shy, moans with every second the vibrator spends pressed to your sensitive bundle of nerves. The world around you is fuzzy and you swear you can even hear the static that gathers at the edges of your vision. When your abdomen begins tensing and the rhythm of your fingers grows less accurate, more frantic, he uses more pressure to elicit the exact reaction he’s looking for. The sensation throws you over the edge without warning, hitting you in waves far more intense than the best orgasm with your fingers has ever given you.
As your body reacts to each wave of the orgasm, muscles clenching in time, the vibrator shifts slightly and the sensation heads straight into overstimulation. Sukuna reads the reaction and pulls away, letting you come down naturally. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you stare up at the rickety old ceiling.
Letting go and giving in entirely to the pleasure feels good. Your thoughts don’t race. There’s no constant stream of what needs to happen for the rest of the day or when you’ll head to the bar for your next gig. You’re just on cloud nine.
You feel Sukuna rise from between your legs. He moves around the apartment like he owns the place, opening the only door that doesn’t lead out without asking, and returning with a towel.
Pushing up onto your elbow, you hold out a hand expectantly, but Sukuna holds it out of reach. “No. I told you you’re not getting sweet, but I’m not leaving you without aftercare.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, folding the towel into something more manageable before holding it out for you to wipe your fingers on. “An arrangement like this,” he waves the folded towel haphazardly between you once you’re done with it, “means that the person in the dominant position should be helping clean up and make sure the sub is in the right headspace.” He speaks so matter-of-factly, you have a hard time believing this is the same guy who asked if you applied for the wrong job.
Tonal whiplash if you’ve ever heard it.
“If you ever have sex with someone who puts you in a submissive position and doesn’t give you aftercare, dump the prick.”
Truthfully, you’re not sure Sukuna has any right to call someone a prick, but you nod regardless. You’re not about to protest when he is cleaning you up and has gathered your panties and pants for you.
Once he’s satisfied, he sets the towel aside and pulls his shirt back over his head. He grabs you a glass of water as you cover yourself back up, and is surprisingly domestic as he checks in on you. “Feel good?”
“Yeah.”
“See what I mean when I say the bullet vibe is best with outside stimulation?”
You blink up at him from where he’s standing, a neutral expression plastered to his face as though nothing’s happened and there isn’t a tent in his pants. “Yeah, I guess.”
His eyes narrow, chin tilted up slightly. “You guess?”
“Sorry. I just don’t know what to do now.”
Unbothered, he simply nods, his gaze passing to the window as a train casts a dark shadow over the apartment, gone in a split second. He runs a hand through black strands of hair, revealing the pink at the roots before crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been… whatever we are, with someone.”
He snorts. “Can’t say I have either, sweetheart. Just talk with me until I know you’re back in a normal headspace. Tell me what worked and what didn’t.” He brings a hand up to his shoulder, rubbing the muscle along his back idly as he stands a short distance away.
Now fully clothed, you sit upright. “Okay.” Letting out a breath, you navigate the blissful fog still hanging over you in search of something to answer. “I appreciate that you took your shirt off,” you admit, heat climbing your spine as it curls up to your ears. You press on, grateful that he doesn’t make a big deal out of it in spite of his minute smirk. “I liked when you used pressure, but it was a lot when I came.”
He hums. “That’s overstimulation. Was it a lot in a bad way?”
Your brow knits together in thought. It was too much in the moment, but you don’t suppose you’d label it as bad. “No. Not exactly. Just too much.”
Shifting to the other foot, he considers your words. “Overstimulation is a pretty common kink. There’re a lot of people who like being pushed into that territory because it is a lot but the stimulation is also pleasurable and it can push you to cum again pretty quickly.”
“I think I saw that in some of the porn I tried watching.”
“I would say it’s one of the more common kinks in the kink community. Makes sense.”
You nod slowly, considering the sensation as you shift, your body still feeling particularly loose. “I think I’d try it.”
“Sure,” he agrees, seeming to only half pay attention when he pulls his phone out. A dim blue light illuminates the lower half of his face before he shoves it back in his pocket. “You seem good. Feeling alright?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. I’m leaving.” He turns abruptly on his heel, tossing his jacket over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. “Clean the vibe,” he reminds you. “And don’t use it too often. We’re not built for electronics, we’re built for fingers. It’ll fry your nerves and regular stimulation won’t feel as good.”
You nod solemnly, his advice adding up. “Wait!” You call when his hand rests atop the old door knob, the golden paint chipping away as it gives up the facade of luxury. “You don’t want anything?”
“No.”
You shake your head. “Why did you agree to this, then?”
He pauses, turning fully to face you. His gaze travels to the darkened path over the wooden floor where enough steps have been taken that the wood has physically worn away. “It’s convenient,” he offers, “having you take my shifts. It’s…” he trails off for a moment, his tongue running over his lower lip. “It’s helpful, really.”
You’re shocked at the sincerity behind the admission, like in spite of how frustrating and egocentric he can be, he feels he owes you honesty.
“But you’re right.” He lets the words hang, pools of cerise washing intensely over you as your head tilts quizzically. He blinks as he searches for the words to put his thoughts together. “Look, it pisses me off that you applied to this job in the first place, but you’re here now and Jillian likes you.” He shrugs his shoulders. “There’s fuck-all I can do about that and you should have known this shit before applying.”
Your eyes narrow as he repeats something you’re getting real sick of hearing. You can’t say you’re sure how this goes with the statement ‘you’re right’, either.
“But this shit is hard to learn if you don’t have an in.” His hand leaves the door handle with a hollow metallic clang as he takes a step towards you. He’s still across the apartment, but it bridges a gap of sorts. “Sex is treated as something you’re not supposed to talk about and kinks are taboo. So finding resources brings you to all sorts of sketchy sites or outdated books because the resources surrounding it suck.” He shrugs. “You should have a way to learn and experiment without feeling stupid for not knowing shit or for asking questions.”
“You literally called me stupid for asking a question not even ten minutes ago,” you interject.
“I didn’t call you stupid. I asked if I’d already fucked you stupid, because the question was stupid.”
You throw your hands in the air at his brazen reply, in disbelief that he can somehow manage to be simultaneously the most frustrating man on earth and unusually open and honest on topics that deserve discussion.
“It’s not stupid to ask questions about sex, or toys, or rules, or anything that makes you more comfortable. It’s not stupid to ask questions about your body or ask me to adjust to something that feels better.” He begins his clarification as though it helps at all. “It’s stupid to ask who I meant when I said ‘finger yourself’ when you’re the only other person in the room,” he snorts, amused as you shoot him a deadpan expression. “And it’s stupid as all hell to apply to a store where you don’t have any fucking clue what we sell.”
“You’re–”
“Yeah, yeah. Save it for later.” He makes a quarter turn, hand on the handle again. “I gotta go. See you at work.”
And with that, he’s gone.
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౨ৎ a/n ; helloooo!! thank you all so much for all of the support :') i couldn't possibly have imagined all the love for this series, so it seriously means a lot.
i've gone for what i think is a fun writing challenge for myself in giving sukuna and reader both a very interesting dynamic, while also showing that sukuna's views on sex are very different than traditional ones bc of his line of work. we'll see more of satoru's perspectives as well and where those views come from!! reader, of course, struggles with insecurity in spite of the fact that she is bold and confident and slowly but surely we'll see more of that come into play in further chapters as well as where it comes from.
Synopsis Another day another job for the proclaimed hunter Toji Fushiguro. Though this time, you were a bigger catch than what he'd dealt with in the past and you'd prove to be far more dangerous too.
Pairing 𓃮 Yandere! Hunter Toji Fushiguro x Jaguar! Reader
Content ✽ Reader has dark skin & hair (but it's only mentioned like once), Crazy yan Toji, dark contect, graphic descriptions of many things, mutilation?, body horror??, mauling, broken bones, dubcon but it's verging on noncon??, delusional Toji, obsessive toji and he's absolutely off his rocker, blood, blood kink, dom toji x sub reader but they kind of switch, nipple play, drugging, bondage, fingering, p in v, death, kidnapping, fingers in mouth, scent kink. very much dead dove do not eat!!
wc:7.7k
a/n Toji won the pole so I’m legally required to post this first,, for those that don’t know the “black panther” is not an actual species of cat. Instead it refers to the “panthera” family and those within this family that have the melanism gene so technically, a lion with melanism is considered a black panther but the mutation is more common in jaguars and leopards. I love animals mainly because they’re a big part of what I want to do in the future so I like researching little facts about them. This is the second part of the hybrid series I’m doing and creds to divider @starrliqhtt and as a sidenote having a destroyed nailbed hurts like a bitchh. I fucked up my hand when I was younger and had to get my nailbed reconstructed. Also ultra ultra side note but I'm very sorry if the ending is rushed.
"A goddamn jaguar. I want you to go into that jungle and kill it." The client's voice cut through the still air from the far side of the dining table. Toji, languidly propping his boots on the polished wood, reclined in his cushioned chair. "What's in it for me? I don't do charity work, you—of all people—should know that," he replied, a sly smirk curling his lips as the man across from him exhaled in exasperation, appearing desperate to be anywhere but in the presence of the insufferably self-assured, dark-haired huntsman. At last, the client approached, depositing a neatly bundled stack of documents before the hunter.
Truthfully, the request barely interested him. Another job with another beast to kill, but money was money. And a good portion of his fights ended up at least somewhat entertaining. He got to overprice clients for a cleanup service that he not only took pleasure in but also took souvenirs from his victims. The crocodile tooth he had around his neck, his first kill, testified to this.
"This is all you need to know. Now leave and get on with it. That pest has already killed enough of our men as is." The client said.
"As long as it's for a good price, you can count me in," Toji replied.
"45 million yen, take it or leave it."
"Bring that up to 50, and you may have yourself a deal."
The man across from Toji sighed once more as he reluctantly agreed. Toji’s smirk quickly transitioned into a grin, "A deal it is then." Grabbing the file from the table and swinging the jacket he had once abandoned over his shoulder, "Before I leave, do you want the beast dead or alive?"
"I want that thing’s head on a spike for what it did to my wife," the man seethed, his expression turning into one of spoiled milk as rage seeped out from him. She had only gone out at dusk to check the traps, and all they found later was a trail of blood vanishing into the trees.
"I'll take that as a no, then," Toji concluded, slamming the door shut behind him once the man had been ushered out.
This was by no means Toji Fushiguro's first rodeo. He’d started hunting random animals, selling their corpses to make ends meet, when he finally decided to go no-contact with his family.
Then, the outbreak happened. It started as a simple whisper in a faraway country, a secret research project they called it. Perhaps government, perhaps not, something to do with splicing and creating alternative coding genes from different RNA predator and prey genes. Some said it was an attempt to cure terminal illnesses, whilst others spoke of illegal experiments to create something more sinister.
Whatever the truth, people soon began to develop animalistic features, trading their humanity for the raw instincts and behaviour of fauna. In less time than predicted, this crisis had affected every continent with numerous hybrid attacks surfacing daily. Not every hybrid was dangerous, far from it—plenty had integrated into society perfectly, but it was the apex predators you had to be cautious of.
And this is why people like Toji existed, why Toji was even able to support himself at the moment. He worked for no one, yet was still marginalised with the others who had chosen this career path and fell under contractors and specific schedules. Toji Fushiguro had spent the better part of his life having his decisions dictated by a family that couldn't care less about his well-being, so, as his final act of generosity to himself, he chose freelance work. Sure, it was difficult at the start, but once he built a name for himself, the earlier decision he had made in his early twenties to work at his own pace had paid off. He was a renowned hunter who had twenty-odd years to hone his abilities, undoubtedly making him the best in the business. Ultimately, no one could do exactly what he did.
So, when a rich pleb came banging at his front door looking for a certain hunter, the original plan was to entertain him a bit before turning down his request. He almost walked out on the crying man until he showed him photos of you. A shockingly beautiful and bloody jaguar with blood smeared around your mouth as you shredded through another poor human. Someone close to his client was judging the way he tensed as Toji looked at the CCTV photos.
Toji studied the clearest photo he was given. The one where your dark hair didn't obscure his view of your face while you feasted on your prey. His eyes memorised how your rosettes blended with your dark skin, a feature anyone would have missed due to poor lighting, yet Toji wasn't anyone. He studied the way the dim light shone off your body, illuminating the golden hues of your eyes as your pupils slit and narrowed when you realised the camera was recording you. The clothes you wear--if you could call them that-- left Toji with more than enough to imagine.
He'd already begun his descent into the jungle, skimming over the notes he'd made sure to write before his journey.
'Jaguar with melanism, "black panther" ➜ the villages call her the devil, evil, demon, etc.'
'Likely to be in early-mid twenties based on structure, born near the start of the outbreak, likely remembers little of it.'
'Dangerous bite force, avoid mouth at all costs.'
'Also, avoid swimming at all costs. Jaguars are good swimmers, and water will slow me down.'
'Incapacitate on sight.'
'Other notes ➜ 27 confirmed kills but likely more. All victims were mutilated almost beyond recognition, all victims had their throats torn out, and most victims were hunters and poachers. Avoid the mouth at all costs.'
He placed the small notebook down next to the rest of his supplies. Interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms over his head, a loud crack resonated through the jungle as he brought his hands down, expressing a sigh of relief. He had exactly what he needed and would be out of the jungle and back to civilisation at the latest by the end of the week.
Toji started by setting a few traps. Nothing to seriously maim you, of course, he wanted you awake for what he was going to do. At the very least, he wanted you in a position where your most dangerous assets would be out of commission, then he could ultimately decide if your fate lay six feet under or somewhere worse. From what he’d been told, Jaguar hybrids—while few in numbers were one of the few hybrids that shared an eerily similar nature to their animal counterparts and if that served true for you, taking you down would be a lot easier than what he initially anticipated.
For instance, the traps. He didn’t lie down various ones in the hope you’d fall into them. He knew three or four would be enough; besides, if he laid down more than that, there was a higher chance he’d end up ensnared in his own traps. He only needed a singular opportunity to wound you. Jaguars were not long-distance chasers, but he was.
The minute a hybrid or any animal sniffed an unfamiliar entity in their territory, they’d avoid the spot like the plague. Most deeming it unsafe until the scent of whatever had disturbed their place was completely eradicated from the area. Toji knew this, of course, opting to cover himself daily in nearby shrubbery and dirt, attempting to mask his scent with the local scenery.
He poured more knowledge into this hunt than he did for the others. Instead of blindly flicking through the pages of the case file, he made sure to study and read it. Even going as far as to ask nearby hunters in the area for any previous experience hunting big-cat hybrids, what to expect, what not to do, etc. He wanted to make sure your first encounter went seamlessly. Would you talk to him once he caught you, maybe plead with him to free you? Better question, did you even know how to talk? He even took it a step further, going around and asking locals whom you had previously terrorised about any relevant information regarding you. It was something he never did, and yeah, his rough and brash questions did evoke a few tears, but he acquired more than what was needed for a successful hunt.
As he fell further, his mind wandered—how it would feel like to be entrapped by your jaws? Would he fight? Or simply give in to the sensation of slowly dying from blood loss? All impulsive thoughts, of course, he knew where he stood, and some random floating thoughts he had did not signify it. Maybe his estimate that this hunt would finish in a week's time was a pathetic assumption.
He was already on the fifth day and had not once caught a sighting of you. In the span of five days, he had done nothing other than capture local animals. Either hunting them for sport or sustenance. There was only so much he could do in such a dense area, Toji thought to himself as he retired for the night. His traps were set, placed meticulously so even your night vision would have difficulty recognising the hidden dangers.
A few minutes after his head hit the pillow, a small, rustling sound emerged from behind where he had posted up for camp. As the minutes crept by, a figure emerged in front of his tent, a barely visible silhouette illuminated by the light's glow, and stood before him. The only thing separating them was the thin layer of the tent. As the figure bent down, closer to the zipper of the tent, Toji’s eyes focused in on their outline. How a tail appeared to bat against the floor, accompanied by rounded ears that twitched at the slightest noise. The zipper slowly started to travel up, and Toji slowly inched his hand closer to the knife he kept under his pillow, hand clenching on the handle in a sturdy grip.
He feigned being asleep, squinting his eyes so they’d appear shut to the intruder as they stepped into what was meant to be his place of refuge for the night. The figure slinked closer to the still man as he tried to even his breathing. About a foot away from where he slept, the invader paused and stopped stalking toward the man. Instead, they decided to go for a different approach—dropping on all fours and slowly inching towards the supposed sleeping figure that was the hunter, Toji Fushiguro. They paused directly in front of his body, lowering their head and inhaling the man's scent as a coarse, sandpaper tongue approached his cheek, slowly trailing down to his neck. The feeling may have willed him to move slightly if it hadn’t been followed by teeth. They didn’t fully ensnare his neck; instead, they hung above it, like whatever was tormenting the hunter knew he was awake and simply wanted him to suffer. Knowing fully that by the time he could attack them, he’d already be bleeding out in his makeshift bed. Warm breaths fluttered on his skin as the teeth of the beast inched closer and closer to the skin on his neck before violently contracting, like something had pulled away whatever was about to maul him.
The creature let out a small chuff from somewhere deep in their chest as puffs of hot air flew across his skin, “I guess today is your lucky day, Toji Fushiguro.” A voice called out to the hunter, and he shot up immediately. However, by the time he did, whatever was in his tent had left.
The hunter never envisioned he’d be returning to his notebook after memorising all of its contents, but he found himself writing a page anew. Documenting what had happened so far.
‘First five days, nothing. Caught rabbits, fish, deer, but no deadly cat ➜ deadly cat shows up in my tent yet doesn’t eat me. Why. Reinforce traps around camp. I may not be capturing this damned cat this week, but she’ll be mine, one way or another.’ Stashing the book off to the side, he sat against a log. A few moments passed, and he reached for his notebook again, instantly tearing the page he had just written out and shredding it to oblivion. “She’ll be mine? She’s an animal that has a head with a place on a mantlepiece, Fushiguro.” He told himself as he got back up to check his traps, mumbling to himself along the way.
The first trap he’d set up by a dense patch of trees? Perfectly untouched. The second one, which he lay by a nearby stream, also mirrored this condition. The third was almost as perfect as the other two; the leaves that he’d placed over the bear trap were now scattered around, revealing the trap to all close by. Toji sighed, cleaning up the trap and putting down another batch of leaves that had the same dryness and discolouration as the others. While he finished putting the last leaves down, a snap echoed in the shrub layer. The sound being so loud, he was sure it could be heard in the under canopy. Instantaneously, he ran towards the fourth trap; a deer, with its poor neck chewed out, hung leg first in the trap. Its body, dangling and swaying as blood drooped down onto the jungle floor.
As Toji examined the deer, unsetting the trap to bring it down from the great height, a golden gleam flickered in the compact darkness of the trees. You. Your eyes zeroed in on the hunter who handled the mangled corpse of the deer with care. Head cocking to the side as you stared at him in wonder, why would he care for the dead? You thought to yourself as he lay the deer down. Perhaps to not get his clothes ruined? Though they were already caked in mud in some spots, so that’s clearly not the case. While you lost yourself in potential hypotheticals, you failed to notice the oncoming patter of footsteps until they were right in front of you. He couldn’t see you, not with you being so high up. You made sure that your body was hidden in the thick canopy with its branches and leaves. For whatever reason, despite your form being absent from his field of view, he knew you were present, looking down on him, watching him, waiting for his next move.
“Usually, I’d say thanks for the meal, but it seems you gave me leftovers.” He was right. You’d chewed out the neck of the dear whilst also stripping away the fattiest parts of the animal—not because you were hungry, but because you were bored and needed something to toy with.
A few seconds of silence passed between the two of you. “Not much of a talker, huh? That’s alright, I’m sure I can do most of the talking between the two of us, heh.” He chuckled lightly to himself and walked off, going back the same way he came. Not before looking up at where you were, though, and if you weren’t so high up, you might actually be wary that he saw you.
Your ears flickered once, then twice as you saw his fleeting figure, before eventually you too decided to leave.
You clearly wanted to meet him, you just didn’t know how. The hunter concluded as he tried his best to strip off any savable meat from the carcass you had brought him earlier. His scarred lips curled at the thought of you stalking him throughout his stay. Making sure to stay far enough so he couldn’t catch you, but close enough you could still observe him.
Plainly speaking, your behaviour confused him. He knew you crawled into his tent that night and intended to devour him; if your teeth meant to pierce his skin that night, he would have easily driven the knife through your head. Whether he found you interesting then or not, a simple interest was not enough to keep him from eventually killing you.
However, to put it simply, things had changed. Somewhere along the way, a sensation began to coalesce inside him, tangled up in thoughts that resisted an easy explanation or simple logical answer. Truthfully, he should have seen it coming. The slight fascination that came subtly each time he caught the glint of golden eyes in the dark, or the purposeful footsteps that paraded around his camp until he shone his torch as a means to spook whatever was causing a ruckus at two in the morning. Every time you slipped his traps, there was a flare of irritation, yes, but beneath that a feeling of infatuation hummed relentlessly.
You weren’t just a job anymore. The idea of killing you, snuffing out that spark just for a payout, started to sour in his imagination. You were far too intriguing to be left dead. Each night, as he lay awake rehearsing his plan, talking to himself, the words in his notebook veered on something dangerously close to limerence. Instead, he would render you helpless, make sure you didn’t cause too much of a ruckus, claim his bounty money, and that’s all he could think of.
Everything after that felt murky, unfinished. Scribbling out his plan of what he was going to do with you and the bounty money, he tore the page of his notebook he had just written on out of the book, chucking it into the nearby stream. Toji was many things, but he wasn’t stupid, and he knew leaving what he planned to do with you on a flimsy bit of paper when you had clearly gone through the book earlier was nothing short of a terrible idea. It was the only reason you knew his name, where he had placed the traps, how many days he planned to stay, and so on. It was easier to write things down just in case he forgot important information, but as of late, this habit served as nothing but a hindrance.
He tore the notebook in half. Allowing the papers to fly in the wind and eventually fall somewhere unknown in the jungle as he cleared up for the night, already suspecting your arrival and how to prepare for it. He had it all mapped out in his head, reciting the plan over and over again until it eventually lulled him to sleep.
He awoke to all of his equipment, which he had around his camp, scattered in random spaces, and his jacket, which he had forgotten to pack away last night. Strung in a tree. The pots and pans he’d left near a fire? Stacked and filled with different items. One was full of rocks, the other water. Was that a poison dart frog submerged underneath? Toji raked a hand through his hair, laughing to himself at the mess you’d clearly made. Until now, he wasn’t aware you were one for practical jokes. He spent the whole day in an attempt to find you, but as usual, you were out of sight, not out of mind.
The nights and days flew by, and as the filtered dawn light met his eyelids. Time stretched as he ticked off another day he’d spent in this desolate jungle. Desolate because of the absence of real humans, the animals and hybrids in the jungle did not count as they were already a part of the ecosystem. Toji Fushiguro counted for anomalies, and you were an anomaly. He could sense your presence the moment he walked out of his tent. Out of reach, yet again, but close enough that you could monitor his activities, all without being seen. However, that was okay. He enjoyed simple games of cat and mouse; however, this had simply dragged on for far too long.
The movement of leaves, followed by a loud rustle, echoed in the shrubs. Without looking back at the sound, keeping his eyes focused on where he thought you were stationed (you were in fact positioned there, not that he knew for certain), he shot whatever was making the noise behind him. The earsplitting bang caused nesting birds and part-birds to fly from their resting places high in the trees. The sudden attack of violence caused even you, someone who was used to and often provoked violence, to be taken aback. Toji turned around, and his eyes narrowed on what he shot. A hand peeked from the shrubs as he walked over to it, pulling the body out of hiding. A small deer hybrid, native to this area, had been shot directly in the head.
“Like the show, doll?” Toji exclaimed, his voice reaching all who currently hid from his eyes, but you knew that voice was directed towards you.
Admittedly, at first, you were interested in the Hunter who dared to trespass on your lands. You rummaged through his things whilst he was away. You let him live that fateful night for one reason and one alone: you were curious. If he cowered when you put your jaws on him, then certainly, you would have killed him where he ‘slept’. Instead, he remained still, motionless. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he was dead by how still his heartbeat was. But one lick to his neck and feeling his pulse point under your harsh tongue told you he was anything but. He was alive, awake, yet pretended to be in a deep sleep for a reason you still didn’t know.
His charms reeled you in further, the way after that first week, he’d speak aloud like you were nearby and listening (you were). He’d refer to you, not by your name but by others that had your head tilting and your ears twitching in confusion about the terms of endearment. Though he carried these names lighter than the rest of his words, so you could only assume they were positive names.
Unfortunately, whatever feeling you had for the man previously diminished like a flame under a waterfall when he shot that hybrid. Not because he shot the hybrid, you didn’t care for that. But now, you finally saw how dangerous he was, and Toji Fushiguro needed to go.
Under no circumstances could you allow such a threat to flourish in your environment. At first, he overstayed his welcome, but you allowed it—condoned it even. He was your prime source of entertainment. None of the animals or hybrids in the region had such a vibrant personality as the hunstman did. And if they did, it’s not like you would ever know. Those feeble animals avoided you like the plague, whilst Toji was the only one who, while aware of your presence, did not cower while you were near. Even if the situation had turned sour, you could use this to your advantage. He’d already let down some of his guard; all you had to do was continue your earlier ministrations and wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Time meant so little to you. Days and nights passed by like fish going upstream while you studied Toji more intently than ever. Still placing little ‘gifts’ in his traps and watching how he bolted when he heard the oh so familiar sound of them being activated. He always made sure to thank you, giving you his familiar grin while he picked the corpses of unfortunate victims from their ensnarement. He made it a habit of speaking to you more, too.
You never responded; due to a mix of being irritated and cautious over your safety, but this didn’t bother the hunter. He would speak aloud like you were answering his questions and comments yourself; no matter how ridiculous his questions were, he spoke as if it were a conversation between two individuals. Not a one-sided conversation between a delicate human and a vengeful predator, which it was. Though delicate could be changeable since Toji seemed like anything but the gentle type.
While you played the long game, Toji’s behaviour only grew more erratic and hysterical. He started actively hunting not just prey, but predators too. Buchering them right where you could see. You saw how their blood pooled around him, how he decimated them in a way that looked sacrificial, like he was offering it to some higher being, despite the jungle holding no such thing. He’d killed more caimans and venomous snakes, hybrids and non-hybrids than you could count. Clearly, he had a type because he’d brought back more anacondas to his camp than you thought the jungle could possibly have. He revelled in their screams while he buttered and flayed them. And always, always when he neared finishing, he would look up to where you were perched on the tree. Asking if you ‘enjoyed’ the show.
You made sure to never reveal where you were in the trees to him, but his accuracy in predicting where you were was unnerving, to say the least.
The sun grew absent once more, and crickets and the other animals had begun their nightly noise. Toji retreated to his tent. He’d be ready for your arrival, and he’d take you home at the earliest convenience. As he finished zipping up his tent for the night, or before you could at least unzip it anyway. His body was almost finished turning around when a hand secured its way around his throat, whilst the other lay flat on his back. “Don’t suppose you plan on using those claws of yours anytime soon, kitty?” He asked, referring to how the tips of your claws had begun to pierce the first layer of his skin, drawing blood.
You leaned in further, dragging your tongue along the uncovered area of his neck. You felt his body tense under your hold as a smile curled up on your face, your whiskers brushing against his neck as you raised your head to whisper in his ear, “Do you want me to? Hunter.” The soft, almost sultry tone of your voice came to a pause once you addressed him by his title as you spat out the world like it was common vermin. Your hair draped over his shoulder when you leaned in further, your body pressing right against his. Whilst you held him in place, your fingers dug deeper into his flesh as you slowly lifted one of your fingers on his neck to your mouth. Sucking on the blood that had pooled on your hand. “So…sweet, yet unfortunately, I need you gone.” You said, using the same honeyed tone as earlier, that descended into hostility when you revealed your true intentions.
“Well, doll, I think it’d be in your best interest if you didn’t.” You paused in harming his skin further, taking a small fragment of time to actually ponder what he was telling you, though a small fragment of time was all he needed to overtake you. Your tail bent at the force he slammed you down with.
In a flash, he overwhelmed you with a strength that even you would call impressive, if he didn't currently have you pinned beneath him with your hands bound and a hunting knife at your throat. Your tail, still positioned at an awkward angle, elevated you in front of the hunter, making your back unwillingly arch to save your body from accidentally falling on it and harming a part of you that would be a bitch to recover from. The man above you smirked at your new position, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I like this a lot better, don’t you?”
Disregarding the knife pressed against your neck, you lunged at him. He immediately got up from straddling you and went to another corner of the tent as you remained on the opposite side. Baring your teeth to him while a low roar expelled from your throat, “Is this all you can do? I had such high hopes for you, doll.” He said smugly, still on guard from your attempted attack.
Ignoring his words, you lunged toward his neck.
Your teeth narrowly missed his neck as he dodged, and instead they fell onto the side of his face, where you bit into his ear and part of his cheek, immediately ripping away the flesh. You chewed the flesh in your mouth, allowing him to hear the grinding sound of your teeth against his stolen ear and flesh as you spit it out onto the tent floor. The blood dripped down your face onto your torn clothes as you glared at the bleeding man with pure bloodlust. “Now that’s the sight I’ve been waiting to see,” Toji smirked, side-stepping another attack and slashing directly across your abdomen.
The pain was…new. You’d never been attacked on such a severe scale, and before your fight or flight had kicked in, Toji decided he would dictate your next movements for you. He slashed at you, cutting your skin—leaving deep and shallow cuts all throughout your body until he grabbed his knife and plunged it into your thigh. The pain was unfamiliar, unbearable as you toppled over, disoriented and trying your best to reach the zip of the tent.
“Unfortunately for you, doll, I was a bit too prepared, huh? Better luck next time.” Toji pulled out a needle he had hidden in his back pocket and thrusted it into your neck, forcing you to become unconscious sooner rather than later when he secured your head in a chokehold. You brought your hands up to his forearm, trying to claw your way out as your claws dug deep into him. Seconds passed, and you felt your movements gradually grow sluggish. Toji leaned down to your ear once more, “Nice try,” he told you as he released you from his hold, only to slam your head into the ground, knocking you out entirely.
Officially, it took the duration of the last few months of dry season and the few early days of wet season for Toji to finally have you within his grasp. Albeit longer than he expected, but as he hauled your body out of his tent and onto more even ground, he couldn’t help but think this went a lot more smoothly than he intended—not counting the ear and parts of the face that he had lost in the midst of your fight.
The floor was damp, unnaturally damp like someone had poured a bucket of water onto you. The humid climate and moist soil caused your hair to fasten to your head as you attempted to shake out any stray items that wound up in your hair. Your wounds, fresh, ached when exposed to the sudden assault. Toji stood above you, smug as ever, holding a bucket of water in your direction. “Nice to see you're finally up.” He said as he leaned down to your height. “I’m giving you on the count of three to run on outta’ here. If I don’t catch ya, you can run along to whatever cave you call home. But if I get you—” He leaned down closer to you, till your noses practically touched “I’ll be keeping you with no intent to ever let you go.” He finished, pulling his looming frame off yours.
“Now, if I were you, I’d be hightailing it out of here. Time’s already started, pet.” He smirked as he watched your form gather up whatever strength you had left in an attempt to run from him. In hindsight, it may have served futile, but you were an apex predator; hunters feared you, not the other way around. You knew when to pick your fights, and currently, you were in no state to win.
Dirt and leaves clung to your form as you tried to barrel your way through the overgrown thicket. Freedom seemed so close, like something you could hold in the grasp of your palm until a sharp tug fell on your leg. A strong force slung you up, propelling your marred body upwards and securing you to dangle at an awkward angle. The world was spinning whilst being disproportional—upside down as the slowed footsteps of Toji fell upon your disoriented ears.
“And here I was thinking you’d put up more of a fight.” He mocked, pulling out his hunter's knife, allowing you to smack down onto the ground headfirst. The blunt force had your head swelling as black spots filled your vision while the last thing you saw was the same familiar tall stature looming over you with an unforgiving smirk.
You woke some hours later, bound in a chair, bruised, pained and ultimately humiliated that a human, a man no less, would render you to such a state. Your body ached all over, blood seeping from its poorly bandaged bindings as you squirmed in your chair. The blunt force trauma, combined with whatever he had forced into your bloodstream, had clearly knocked you out long enough for you to be transported from your home into a random environment.
You’d been in homes before; you vaguely remember your childhood one, but the ceiling was far too high, and the walls seemed to constantly contract and retract the longer you stared at them. Then came the unbearable pain in your mouth. It started as a small, sharp nipping pain, but soon transitioned into what felt like your mouth constantly being bludgeoned by a sledgehammer. Your mouth throbbed as you shakily pulled up your hands to feel around it.
Your teeth, the canines that were your pride and joy, were gone. The four teeth that let you survive, hunt, and prove your strength day in and day out were missing. You reached your trembling claws to your jaw, desperate, frantic, but only hot blood filled your mouth instead of the familiar sharp edges. Panic crashed over you in suffocating waves.
A scream welled up but died before it could ever be formed, replaced by a guttural groan of raw despair. A rage that burned brighter than any sun you’d felt twisted inside you at the violation. Now you felt stripped, exposed, weak.
Sure, they’d grow back. They always did. However, the only difference was that you’d never had all four missing at the same time, and a feeling within you told you you’d need them now more than ever.
“Careful now,” A voice called to your right, and you lunged at it, pathetically attempting to use your claws. Your arms couldn’t even make it over to where the man was since your body was still feeling the effects of the drug. Instead, they fell to your sides, limp and unusable. “Now that won’t do, will it?” Toji came into your view instead of continuing to be some sort of ominous voice from behind you. He crouched down in front of you. Mocking your grim expression as he twirled the pliars in his hands. “Hands.” He called out, and with what little strength you had, you buried your claws into them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of you submitting.
“I won’t ask you again, hands.” He said, firmer this time. You still refused, shielding your hands from his view as he stood up and came closer. He leaned closer, looking you directly in your eyes as he spoke: “Remember, this was your choice.” When those words left his mouth, you felt a searing hot pain in your left forearm.
Toji had made that sledgehammer feeling in your mouth you felt earlier into a reality as he swung the weapon down on your arm once more. The pain caused your vision to cloud as your eyes filled with tears. You, who once held others' lives in your hands, now had your treatment spat back at you. The pain was overwhelming and almost consumed you whole, all whilst the hunter paraded around your wounded body, mocking your cries.
“Now, are you ready to give me your hands?” And with your hesitance being beaten out of you in more ways than one, you unfurled them.
What Toji found enthralling about you originally was your raw display of power. You didn’t use weapons to harm your prey; you relied on instinct and your sheer abilities. He enjoyed fighting with you, and he was sure the two of you would have more tussles in the future, but the fact remains that he could actively feel bandages rub against the skin of his arm and face, which could not happen once more.
Perhaps one day, you would thank him for this. You would thank him for declawing you despite how much it hurt. Observing how the blood pooled around your ruined nail beds, how suddenly you seemed to be frail as the harmed flesh grew redder by the second. You would thank him for removing the dangerous parts of you and replacing them with parts that let you live freely, without the constant instinct of having to fend for yourself. Toji would protect you; all you had to do was sit pretty for him and be nothing more than his pet. In his mind, his actions didn’t have to be justified. Toji Fushiguro wasn’t obligated to anyone. Not to his family that disregarded him, not to the people that looked down on him, and certainly not to you, even as you cursed and screamed at him from the chair he bound you in. You screamed and roared until your throat grew hoarse. Toji didn’t owe you an explanation as to why he was doing this, and truly, he didn’t even know why he was doing this. He’d claimed the bounty money, showing off your canines as proof to the man and a part of the hunter expected to dispose of your body long before you awoke.
But something in him couldn’t do it. Two halves of himself fought each other constantly, the urge to kill you and the urge to keep you, constantly battled each other until one of them clearly won. Not to be mistaken, Toji would still kill you if you proved not to match up to the image of what he had painted in his mind, that was absolute. But as for now, you could not be more perfect, covered in your own blood as you tried your best not to let him see the fragile parts of you.
Toji wanted, needed to see that part of you. He had to see the different ways you’d react to his advances. Would you bear your mutilated mouth at him? Try to harm him with your wounded nailbeds that clearly were too weak to hold any additional force? Or simply fight him for your freedom? The possibilities ranged on, and Toji found himself excited at whichever one you’d decide to go for.
He dropped the blood pliers on the ground, returning to his previous placement. Toji leaned closer into you as he inhaled the metallic scent emanating from your body. He brought his mouth closer to your skin, gently swivelling your chair as his tongue reached and suckled on the blood still pooling from your closed mouth. Your body froze as his tongue eventually wormed its way into your mouth. His lips fell properly onto yours as his hands placed themselves on your wounds, with his fingers digging in the cuts that tried their best to heal. The pain had you gasping for air, which only pulled Toji in closer to you as his touches became harsher while he gripped and pulled at your marred skin.
His fingers travelled down further as your wrists and legs wrattled against the chair, attempting to free yourself from his hold. He used one hand to tear away at your tattered garments whilst his other hand gripped onto your throat, constricting your airflow while he kissed you. Finally, your strength left you, and you allowed him to trail his hand lower, and lower until he came into contact with a bundle of nerves. His fingers circled your cunt, running along your clit and down your folds, all while he kissed you like you were the air he breathed in—all whilst having the oxygen from your body contricted. Your vision began spotting, and Toji let go of his hold on you, making you gasp for air like it was your first time breathing, which, in all fairness, felt like it. Toji shifted his position, opting to place his mouth on your neck and shoulders as he bit and sucked on your skin, leaving dark bruises and teeth marks, all while murmuring words onto your skin.
“You want this, don’t you?” Having seen how you constantly tried to press your thighs together in an attempt to relieve yourself.
His fingers intruded into you, making you moan at the intrusion immediately. You could feel Toji's smirk on your skin as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, all while you writhed in his hold. His other hand came up to your chest, tearing away at the fabric there and leaving you bare in front of him. “Fucking gorgeous,” He said, looking into your eyes as he attacked your chest, biting and sucking. His tongue manoeuvred onto one of your nipples whilst his hand that wasn’t currently entertaining your cunt wound up on your other tit, pinching and pulling at the nipple.
He continued slobbering over your chest whilst his fingers quickened their pace inside you, making you cry out all the more. Whatever words and curses you were attempting to shout out earlier came off as half-mumbled words that ended in groans or whines as he pulled your orgasm closer and closer to you until you broke, cumming all over his hand and the chair.
Toji pulled himself away from your chest, taking out the fingers he put in you moments earlier while he observed the mess you made on them. He brought the substance to his mouth, giving it one clean lick, “ So sweet. That’s what you told me earlier, right?” You didn’t respond to him, too focused on regulating yourself after your orgasm, “I’m sure you like sweet things, don’t you want a taste?” That wasn’t a question with the way he forced your poor mouth open to ram his fingers in so you could taste yourself. “Go on, you like sweet things. This is perfect for you.” He mocked as he forced his fingers further into your blood mouth, causing you to gag and almost sob.
Toji was relentless, not giving up until he felt you suck on the digits he had forced in your mouth. You were weak, your fighting spirit anulled, and it didn’t take long for you to comply to his command, sucking on the digits until he eventually pulled them out of you. “That wasn’t so bad, was it—” you cut him off when you spat out a mixture of your own cum, saliva and blood into the face of the hunter. Watching as it dripped down his face and onto his shirt.
You winced back, expecting the worst—maybe another tooth pull? Perhaps a broken leg, but to your surprise, Toji did nothing; he laughed. He laughed until you swore you could almost see him go blue in the face, all for it to come to an abrupt pause when he grabbed the arms of the chair, ripping your restraints off. He did the same with the ropes binding your legs and pried you from the chair, slamming you on the ground stomach first. The sudden action left you breathless as you heard him fiddle and rip something else before pressing his bare lower half to you.
He grabbed your hips, turning you around and forcing you to sit in his lap as he sat down on the floor with you hovering over his now bare dick. “Never thought I’d have you like this so soon, pretty.” smirking as he saw how your pained body writhed in place. Another snarky remark rested on his tongue but faded into nothing other than a sharp groan as he felt your tight heat sinking down onto him.
You pushed him onto the floor, fully sitting on his dick while he lay back. He let your hands travel to his throat; he let them constrict around it as you found a rhythm and started moving up and down on him. Whenever Toji motioned his hips upwards in a threat to meet yours, you growled, and he immediately let go. He turned complicit over you, taking control of him, and as you came down faster, he felt his own vision dwindle because of the pleasure.
Until a sharp pain hit his throat.
Instantaneously, what had been so real for Toji shattered into fragments as he stumbled around the room, grasping at his throat for air while you stalked over to him, blood-covered pliers in hand.
When did you get out of your bounds? How could you possibly be this strong? A mirage of thoughts rushed to Toji’s mind, but the most overwhelming one of them all was telling him he needed to kill you, before you killed him. Trying to capture his breath, he stumbled once or twice and reached for a knife he had hidden on him, just in case of emergencies.
He was too late. You’d already swung the heavy set tool into his head, causing him to fall to the ground as you stradled his body, prying the knife from his hands onto the floor, far, far away from him. You raised the pliars, bringing them down and down and down onto the skull of the man who tortured and humiliated you.
You beat him within an inch of his life, making sure he felt all the pain you felt while he battered and cut your body. You stood up from on top of him, staggering as your adrenaline wore off, and you looked at the vile man you once allowed to live in your land.
“I told you, I’d kill you.” You breathlessly breathed out to the barely conscious, bleeding out man.
And as suddenly as it happened, Toji Fushiguro, someone who had a name solely based on presence alone—who had spent years building a name for himself, was no more. All that remained was an unrecognisable body as you blindly feasted on the corpse of a man with irresistible blood.
Dead men tell no tales, and what happened on this day would stay between you and the long-forgotten Toji Fushiguro.
Yuji (+ Sukuna) x Sorcerer! Sukuna Past Lover! Reader
Author Note: This is a lot longer than I meant for it to be 😭😭
——
The One That Got Away — Katy Perry
——
Yuji doesn’t know much about Sukuna’s past, not that he hasn’t asked about it— really he has— but Sukuna never answers.
When he was first starting at Jujustu High, Sukuna’s never been more quiet.
After collecting Nobara and fulfilling her wishes, they went to collect you at the train station. You waved them over, carrying your suitcase, “Hello.” You bowed slightly.
Suddenly, Sukuna had nothing to say upon hearing your voice. He had many many things to say about the others, but there were no snide remarks or crude comments to be heard of now.
You’d gotten close with Yuji absorbing his infinite sunlight, being with him was like breathing a breath of fresh air.
Missions with Yuji were… interesting. Yuji knew you could handle yourself, you’ve saved him countless of times. Yet there was always the voice in the back of his mind demanding him to check on you.
“(Name), you okay?” He called out to you mid fight. The curse you were fighting was down, so you’d made the mistake of letting your guard down, “Yeah, all good—” a curse leapt on you, knocking the wind out of you.
Before Yuji could do anything, Sukuna took over his body, swiftly annihilating the curse spirit. Seeing that it wasn’t Yuji before you, you kept your guard up, not making the same mistake, “Relax,” Sukuna scoffed, “if I wanted to kill you, I would have already.” His voice was rougher than Yuji’s.
Soon enough the tattoos faded from his skin, “I’m so sorry!” Yuji’s voice filled your ears once more, repeating apologies while helping you up. His hands lingered on your shoulder, “I’ll walk you to the nurses office!” He insisted, “Itadori, I’m fine, really.”
But he didn’t listen, placing his arm on your back, walking you to the nurses office just like he said he would.
After the nurse patched you up, you two walked to your dorms. You were right across from Yuji, which made movie nights and sleepovers easy and hard for any of the teachers to catch you two.
You stopped in front of your door, turning to face Yuji, “Thanks Itadori, for everything!” You stepped closer, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Yuji could feel his cheeks heat up, not daring to look you in the eyes. ‘Well, do something you brat,’ Sukuna hissed, ‘and don’t make her call you by your last name, it’s not gentleman like of you.’
Yuji snapped to attention before you could close your door, startling you, “No thank you!” He bowed at a 90-degree angle, almost shouting, “and please, call me Yuji!” You chuckled nervously, waving your arms around, “Yuji, c’mon, stand up. You don’t need to bow!”
Your voices jumbled together, “Both of you SHUT UP!” Nobara screamed from down the hall, silencing both of you.
Now the hallway was filled with your heaving breaths, your cheeks have now tinted a light shade of pink, matching Yuji’s.
‘You’re hopeless.’ Sukuna’s voice mumbled, making Yuji more aware of what he’d just done. Though your voice caught his attention once more, “Well, this is goodnight then?” You leaned your head on the doorframe, a soft smile playing at your lips.
Yuji was at a loss for words, just staring at you. ‘Goodnight.’ “Sukuna says goodnight!” Yuji exclaims, then books it for his room— tripping along the way.
Wait.
Did he say ‘Sukuna says goodnight’…?
Behind his now closed door, Yuji flopped on his bed, a mouth forming on the back of his hand, “You idiot! You were supposed to say goodnight!” Sukuna barked, “She was so pretty! I panicked!” Yuji paused for a moment, “why do you care so much?” He finally asked.
The world went dark around Yuji, then woke up in Sukuna’s innate domain. “Oh, I’m here again.” He stated, sitting up. “You keep pestering me about my past.” Sukuna spoke up from behind him, “Yeah, cause you never tell me anything.”
“That girl…” Sukuna trailed off, “(Name)?” “Yes. Her.” Sukuna paused once more, staring off into space. His hands were tucked into his over sized sleeves, Sukuna was fiddling with something within them. “She reminds me of someone I once knew…” what was in his hands was an old ring.
“Someone you once knew?!” Yuji shot up to his feet, “who?!” Yuji could see a vein pop out of his forehead, taking a step back from the cursed spirit.
“Someone from before I was the King of Curses.” Sukuna’s eyes wandered to his throne atop of bones, what would you have said about it? He took the ring out from his sleeve, tossing it in front of Yuji.
Yuji picked it up, examining it, “Who’s this from?” He held it close to his face.
“My wife.”
“YOU HAD A WIFE?!”
Sukuna turned his focus to Yuji, “Yes.” He stated plainly. “How did she ever put up with you…?” Yuji muttered under his breath, “What was that.” Sukuna gritted out. “Nothing~!”
“Like I said, it was long before I was king. Before I was this.” Sukuna clenched his fist, the phantom warmth from your hands engulfed his, easing his muscles little by little.
“That must’ve hurt… having to watch her die?” Yuji was sitting again, back to examining the ring, “The most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.”
This was the first time Sukuna has willingly opened up to him, some vulnerability— kindness even.
“But you’ve been in this world since like… the dawn of time!” “Hey—!” “Weren’t there other women that you loved?” Yuji leaned back, tilting his head. “Excuse me?” There was a dangerous energy around Sukuna now, “I—I mean… not to be rude—” “I’ve waited centuries for her to return,” he stepped closer to Yuji, “I won’t let you mess this up for me, boy.”
Yuji nodded, then another question popped into his head, “What was your (Name) like?” He held the ring out to Sukuna, who took the ring— hiding it back into his sleeve, “She was kind and compassionate, annoyingly stubborn. Exactly like this eras.”
Yuji wanted to ask another question, but he didn’t know how far he could push Sukuna, “Is it okay to ask…” “Hm?” “How… how did she die?” Sukuna stayed silent, not facing Yuji, “Of course you don’t—” “She was killed.” Sukuna interrupted Yuji.
“She didn’t care for who I was, or what I was doing. I was on the road of becoming a sorcerer, killing others for power,” Sukuna sighed, “yet she never cared for that, leading me away for that path. And for once, I thought of something else other than power. I lived with her in her village, and she taught me normality,” the ring glinted in the red light of the domain, “I could see a future with her. I was going to start a family with her.”
Yuji could already see where this was going to go.
“Despite the constant criticism from her village she still married me, still ate with me, shared a bed with me. Then I wanted to get stronger for another reason. To protect her, to be able to protect whatever family we’d have. So I’d train, in a near by forest.”
“That’s when they decided to strike. The villagers broke into our home, breaking our things, beating her to a pulp, and dragged her body around the village. Parading the ‘monsters wife’. I wasn’t there to protect her…”
Sukuna could still hear your dying words. After paradigm you around they left you in your home, leaving you to be found by him.
‘Sukuna… I’ll find you once more…’
You left him with that promise.
“So I killed them all, and became the monster I am now. As I’ve stated, I’ve waited centuries for her return. To be able to hold her in my arms once more.”
Yuji shifted slightly, he couldn’t deny his own feelings for you, but he could understand how Sukuna was feeling.
Yuji opened his eyes once more, and he was back in his room, on his bed. He checked the time, it was midnight, ‘Bring her over. We both need a good nights rest.’ Sukuna insisted, surely you wouldn’t be awake at this time? And yet, Yuji couldn’t stop his feet from moving to your door once more. He’d blame Sukuna, but Yuji knew it was his own doing.
Which is why you’re standing before him in your pyjamas, half awake, a tired smile, watching him with kind eyes despite the late hour. So this is what Sukuna saw every morning, no wonder he married her, Yuji thought to himself.
“Is everything alright, Yuji?” He couldn’t help the flutter in his chest when you said his name, or the heat crawling up his face as he spoke, “I, uh, can’t sleep… could you… come over?” He finally spoke up.
“Oh… yeah, of course. Is everything alright?” You closed the door behind you as you followed Yuji to his room, “I’ve just been having some strange dreams lately.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, opening his door for you.
You both sat on his bed, backs on the walls, hands brushing over the sheets as you two talked about nothing and everything.
Sometime in between, you’d fallen asleep, head resting on his shoulder, breathing slow. Once more Sukuna was silent. Though Yuji could feel the buzz just before he changed to Sukuna, like Sukuna wanted to swap places.
So in his place, Yuji pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your warmth enveloping him down to Sukuna’s innate domain.
And finally, for one night— since first eating Sukuna’s finger— Yuji slept easily, with you by his, and Sukuna’s, side.
festa junina! yuji :: iria te fazer ir no trenzinho com ele.
festa junina! yuji :: toda vez que você falasse que está com fome ele iria comprar um pé de moleque pra você, e de bônus talvez uma pipoca doce.
festa junina! yuji :: se encheria de quentão até não aguentar mais.
festa junina! yuji :: sempre que tocasse alguma música mais animada ou que ele não conhecesse, ele te faria ir dançar com ele.
festa junina! yuji :: iria tentar te convencer de que fazer tranças no cabelo da parceira era uma tradição junina (apenas de brincadeira), e se você deixasse, as tranças provavelmente ficariam bem ruins, mas ele iria tentar fazer o melhor que consegue.
festa junina! yuji :: quando ambos estivessem esgotados, te levaria em um canto para ficarem comendo paçoca e conversando.
festa junina! yuji :: se seus pés ficassem doendo, te emprestaria a bota dele e ficaria carregando sua sapatilha mesmo que durante a festa inteira.
festa junina! yuji :: iria tentar participar de todas as gincanas possíveis (contanto que você não ficasse sozinha).
festa junina! yuji :: ficaria uma semana falando sobre as coisas que comeu e de todas as vezes que dançou.
nota :: queria ter escrito mais ://
to viciada em escrever headcanon mdsss
Banner artwork by MAPPA
Provavelmente já existem versões parecidas, mas não peguei nenhuma inspiração.
no matter where he goes, no matter what he’s doing, for some unknown reason, he always sees you.
it’s not always literal; sometimes it’s figurative. like the way that person orders their morning coffee at that cafe the two of you went to, liked to visit, or the way that person leans down to the local stray cat in the way that you would insist on doing every time you saw it or even the way someone sneezes and how he would always playfully tease you about it, much to your lighthearted chagrin. he’s not doing it on purpose, he muses to himself, it just happens like the way a fish knows to swim with the current in a river – naturally and on instinct.
the worst ones are when he actually sees you, in all your glory, standing there. just the sight of you alone is enough to have him winded as his heart stutters in a frail attempt to keep him alive. he swears you’re just as beautiful as the day you left him (or more aptly, when he made you leave him in a poor attempt to protect you from what he would become) or even more gorgeous if that is even humanly possible.
sometimes, yuji wonders if the universe itself is conspiring against him every time he sees you in some sort of cosmic bid to draw out his sufferings. however, that thought is quickly extinguished when his gaze drifts back to you, some hidden magnetism bringing him back to you, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you.
when you suddenly turn towards his direction, he freezes for a second before pulling the hood of his jacket to better obscure his face. a part of him questions if you really did see him, but you don’t. instead you shake your head and walk away from the ghost of him.
a sigh escapes his lips. he thinks it’s good that you didn’t see him; it’s better for both of you – for him to stay in the shadows and far away from your sight. this way, you can move on more easily if he’s there like a waking reminder of everything that was lost and could have been (like how you are to him).
fuck, even if by some miracle you were near enough to him for the two of you to have a conversation, he wouldn’t even know what to say. just the thought alone of having you there close enough to hear him, to touch, has his hands sweating and his heart palpitating. he’s sure his throat would close up and that he would fumble all over his words so badly that it would just be another wasted opportunity as you slip further and further away from him. (it’s what he deserves after all).
the moment when he lost you plays back in his head on repeat like some cursed film highlight.
“i think we should break up.”
you scoff, brushing his words off as you go back to absent-mindedly playing with his hands. “yeah, right. don’t joke around about stuff like that, yu. jokes are supposed to be funny.”
“i’m serious.” his tone is sharp and unfeeling, a far cry from the boy, now man, that you know and love. “i think we should stop seeing each other.”
the room’s temperature drops to zero the second the words leave his lips, as the two of you sit in silence processing them. it all fades into a blur of hot tears and pained shouts that make him wince every time he has to relive it in his mind – he tries to skip over it as best as he can, pressing fast forward on the metaphorical remote. that is, until he gets to your last words, which, for some reason, is where his mind refuses to skim past.
“hope you’re happy with this, yuji.”
a small part of him, made brutally bitter by the cruel passage of time and all its consequences, doubts if this might have been a curse placed on him by you in some sort of backwards twisted way. though it leaves as fast as it comes when he realises that this is the one curse he wouldn’t mind because it meant that he was still tied to you in some sort of gnarled string of fate.
he’s not a paragon; he knows that. in all honesty, he slipped a few times during the first few years, where he ran back into your warm embrace, and he could forget the weight of the world that he’s been carrying without you as his north star to guide him home. for some reason, you accepted him each time, and he wants to ask why you would even spare him a glance after everything, but he learns very quickly to not question good things. and so he chooses to pretend for just a moment that everything is as it should be – with you in his arms.
however, yuji always makes sure to slip away before you wake up, a final kiss goodbye on your forehead before he disappears back into the dark corners of society. because after all, you don’t deserve to be with this undying monstrosity he’s doomed to be. you deserve the antithesis of everything that he’s now fated to become; someone who can grow old with you, who can be there for you completely without having to owe their life to some grander cause than loving you, and above all, someone who isn’t him.
he ‘s stopped having birthday celebrations. hell, he’s even stopped counting the years. what’s the point by now? there’s no difference between this year and the next and so forth, so no reason to look forward to them or even acknowledge them more than one might note the temporary shift in the breeze before turning your attention to something better. yuji wonders how you would feel about this, knowing he used to insist on cherishing every single moment he had with you, birthday included, as a marker of the time he had with you.
anyway, if he still believed in birthday wishes, all his wishes would go to you.
most recently, the last time he saw your face was at hana’s funeral.
he’s hidden at the back of the congregation, far away from all the other mourners, that is, until you walk in and decide to take a seat three rows in front of him. even with a veil over your face, he could pick you out of a line up blindfolded fifty times over and over again. it’s bad, he knows, but for some reason, his eyes always dart to your left ring finger, and a sick giddiness fills his chest momentarily when he realises that it’s empty before the familiar feeling of grief and self-loathing floods his veins again.
he thinks this will be the last funeral he’ll go to for a while.
occasionally, when he does sleep, he gets to dream of something good instead.
“so, do you think we’d be like them, yu?” your fingers are entwined with his as the two of you exit the cinema in high spirits after watching a movie you’ve been dying to see for ages. there’s a rogue kernel at the edge of your lips, and yuji reaches out to brush it away with the soft touch of his thumb, the gesture is like second nature to him, and you fight the blush that grows on your cheeks.
“like who?”
you giggle softly at his question, clearly amused by his slight confusion. “duh, like the characters in the movie that we just saw. do you think we’d find each other no matter what, even if time itself was against us?”
“of course, baby!” he nods his head so enthusiastically, absolutely resolute in his words, you’re a bit worried he might sprain his neck in his fervour. “i’d even fight time itself for you!”
“you mean you would fistfight the intangible concept of time for me?” you raise an eyebrow at him, an incredulous expression on your face at his words.
fortunately for you, your expression doesn’t deter him; in fact, it does the opposite – it spurs him on even more as he goes on to excitedly detail how he would defend you from the evil clutches of time and in the end, the two of you would ride off into the proverbial sunset in loving embrace. this earns him a kiss from you, one that he eagerly returns as you melt into each other.
the problem, he soon learns, is that life is not a movie, and worst of all, yuji is not the shining movie star who gets the girl in the end and saves the world.
if it’s not a trip back to the past, he sometimes dreams of the future. in there, he sees a quiet life – maybe even a kid or two running around that look like the perfect mix of the two of you, but the most important thing is that you’re there with him, and in this world, nothing bad happens to you two. he didn’t leave; you stayed despite everything, including him, and best of all, you two were happy.
perhaps that could have been another alternate timeline, where there are no curses, no sorcery, no greater calling – just you and him as normal people working your way through the growing pains of life together. a world where his dying moments are when he’s old and grey, surrounded by family and friends, with your last thoughts being of each other and the life you both got to fully share.
the cruellest of them is when he questions if he could have had all that in this world, this lifetime, if only he were a little bit more selfish. but that’s the problem – itadori yuji doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body. he’d rather stab himself a hundred times over and cough out his bloody insides with every haggard breath if it meant that you were safe.
he loved you – no, he still loves you, more than you will ever know, and the truth of it is the reason that he had to let you go. unfortunately for him, this will be just a cross that he has to bear for the rest of his damned existence.
park the bike, wipe the sweat, what's it come to?
early summer bike ride with yuuji itadori
The scorching sun was burning your shoulders in a way you knew would definitely end up read and angry at you for neglecting sunscreen. To be fair, you did put it on, but you couldn’t remember clearly if it was before leaving your apartment or after getting ice cream, both memories blending into each other.
Currently, you were sat near a tree, trying to shelter yourself from the dangerous 37º heat, as shown in a sign outside a pharmacy nearby. You had been running around all day, trying to enjoy to the absolute maximum the first day of summer after finals. Maybe you could’ve divided all the activities in different days, you think to yourself, but as soon as your thoughts began wandering away, a door chimed to mark the exit of the convenience store of someone.
As you covered your eyes with your hands, you squinted to see who it was, and the pink haired guy who just left the store began to make its way to you. Yuuji was wearing a dumb spiderman t-shirt you gifted him a couple of years ago for his birthday, combined with a pair of jorts that had some simple embroidery near the hem; the full outfit was pulled together with a pair of simple red converse and a basic black backpack that looked full to the brim.
While he was getting closer, you began to remember your side quests of the day. He first came to pick you up in the early morning to “fully take advantage of the day” as he said to you with a stupid grin (its 7 am on a Saturday, how is he even properly awake at that hour). You began to get ready, meanwhile, he explained the schedule for the day: a simple pool day to combat the heat, but not before going on a bike ride while the air still felt cool outside.
Agreeing to whatever he was saying without giving it second thought (it’s Yuuji, he always has great plans to hang out, and you could trust him to have a great time), you picked up everything you might need for the day.
Swimsuit? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Sunscreen? Check. Your everyday items? check.
Leaving your apartment, you went to get your bike ready, as he already came over riding his, and after giving it a proper review to make sure everything worked seamlessly, you two started your excursion trying to get away from the city. He was going in front of you while you were still in the actual city, but as soon as you began to see fields and flowers from the outskirts and villages nearby, he slowed down to get to your level to actually talk to you instead of filling the voyage with silence.
Despite seeing each other nearly every day, or at the very least, talking every day, the conversation flowed in a way you didn’t expect for the time of the day. Unsure where you were going, he did keep it a secret, yet he seemed a bit anxious or unsure if you were going to enjoy it as much as he did.
Riding without a care in the world, you made your way into a small forest, and you left your bikes in an opening of the trees where you could hear water running nearby. Yuuji began to guide you though the area with expertise, which made you wonder if he frequented this place, until you arrived at the place you understood he wanted you to know.
In a clearing of the forest, there was a waterfall surrounded by cherry blossoms that miraculously still had some remaining flowers, and a weeping willow that had branches that reached the floor and created openings like doors to enter under it.
You turned with a wide-eyed grin to the guy that brought you here, and he seemed to find the sky more interesting as he began to slightly blush and scratch at the nape of his neck while he began to overexplain why he had chosen that place to visit. Turns out, one day, overwhelmed with the city noise, he just left the same way you just did and found this wonderful place by mere coincidence. You gave him a quick hug that momentarily froze him on the spot and started to get near the nature filled environment.
Going and inspecting all the possible spots to hang out, you decided that under the weeping willow was ideal, as you would not get wet and get shelter from the sun, despite the fact that the clearing had a slightly lower temperature than the rest of the forest because of the waterfall. Sitting on its roots, you talked and talked for hours until your stomachs rumbled, making both of you aware of how much food is needed for the human body, and began to make your way to get your bikes and go to the pool.
On the way back, he spotted a convenience store and abruptly stopped to get both of you a snack before eating an actual meal at the restaurant near the swimming place, and that’s where you were waiting now.
After what felt like eternity, he reached you and gave you your favourite pick-me-up with a soft smile he seemed to save only for you, and he sat beside you on the shadowy part of the tree. The space was filled with comfortable silence as you ate, both lost in your own worlds, and after finishing, he wordlessly packed up the trash and got up to throw it away.
Suddenly overwhelmed with feelings, you got the urge to show him you appreciation for everything he did and was doing for you, and as he got back, you stood up and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Turning as to not see his reaction to it, you went to get your bike, and when you were ready, you looked back at him to see how he was doing with his. The view left you stunned.
The 6 ft, totally buff, pink haired boy still stood in the same place where you kissed him, touching his check, wearing a dumbfounded look on his face as his cheeks got redder by the second. Momentarily aware of what you had just done, you began to apologize for what you did, saying it was an impulse and a way to show gratification, that you did not know what had come over you, but Yuuji interrupted you by getting closer (when did he get that close? genuinely asking) and he engulfed you in his arms as he hugged you tightly, pulling you as close as possible to him.
Confused by his response or lack thereof, you hugged him back, and as if he could sense your worry, he pulled back with a grin in his face and a newfound sparkle in his eye that made you be the one blushing at the confidence in his expression. His hands lowered from your shoulders to your waist as he complimented something stupid that was just so you that made you open you mouth in bewilderment at how did he even realise that, and watching you struggle to get a coherent response, he quickly hid his head in the gap between your shoulder an neck, returning the peck you gave him there so swiftly that it made you wonder if you had imagined it, and he pulled back just as quickly as he got near you.
Both wearing stupid similes on your faces, you actually got on your bikes, constantly looking at the other, and your ride to the swimming pool began, trying to get the most of the summer and whatever you had going on with each other.
a/n: i’m tying to act soo nonchalant but i’m so fucking excited for summer and it shows lmao
The deep resonant boom of wave against rock seemed to swallow the sounds of the mourners' wails whole. From the hidden cove, the funeral seemed to unfold in an eerie silence. Mouths open in anguish, shoulders shook with silent sobs, figures covered in heavy black silks clutching at one another, yet no sound of mourning had reached beyond the breakers. The ocean had devoured it all.
It had taken the old king's body, too, pulling the shrouded coffin out to sea on a small black-sailed boat that now bobbed on the horizon. The same tide that claimed shipwrecks had swallowed both the man and the raw noise of his passing
You do not know what a king was, precisely. You had heard the word carried on boats, spoken with a particular weight that other words did not carry. You understood, watching the shore, that whatever had been inside that black sailboat had been significant, and now that it was gone, the people of the shore did not know what to steer by. That much you understood without needing the words for it
The rites on land concluded in a way that was foreign to you. One by one, mourners stepped forward to cast offerings into the water: white flowers, folded scraps of paper, tiny objects that flashed silver beneath the sun before disappearing beneath the tide. You did not know if these were a sacrifice, a bargain, or perhaps they feared sending off their dead empty-handed. There were no drifting currents to carry the essence away, no shimmering clouds of plankton or echoing songs to bind the living to what was lost.
You watched for a time, trying to discern its logic, when slowly, the robed figures began to peel away, all drifting back up the shore toward the buildings beyond the sand. They leaned on each other as they went, some still leaking from the eyes, some gone quiet and hollow. They carried their grief back up the beach with them, and the shore swallowed their footprints as soon as they were made.
There was one figure left.
He was young, broad-shouldered, and solid in his frame in the way of someone who had grown into their body all at once. His pink hair caught what little light the morning offered and held it strangely, lighter than those that once were around him, lighter than the sky.
He stood at the very edge of the platform where the boat had been, boots sunk into the wet sand, as he watched the horizon take what was lost. He sat and stared at the receding boat with an expression that was hard to decipher; he did not leak from his eyes, yet grief was carved into the set of his jaw, a hollow ache behind his eyes that went far beyond the polished sorrow of the crowd. It was raw and unguarded, as if the sea would offer answers that the land withheld.
His mouth moved once, a single word, but the waves took it before it could reach you. His throat moved with it, his hands at his sides, closed briefly then opened again.
Then he lowered himself to sit at the platform's edge, legs hanging over the water, and he bent forward with his elbows on his knees and looked down at the surface below him. At the tide that had already moved on, at the water that had taken everything without apology.
Yuji sits across from you, his eyes covered with a gray blindfold. He pursues his lips. His patience slowly runs thin.
“Are you going to kiss me or what?” He chuckled, with slight annoyance in his tone.
You hesitated, trying to find a good chapstick to start off. You bit your lip, deciding whether to give him a really good or a really terrible one. “Uhh…” you quickly grabbed one and opened the cap.
You coat the cola flavor on your lips, before pressing your lips together. This does not taste anything like cola, looking at the label. You moved on your knees on your bed for more of a comfortable position.
“Aw, this one is difficult” you grabbed Yuji’s shoulder softly, finally reaching for his lips. He doesn’t move surprisingly. When you kiss Yuji he usually responds with double the kisses you give him.
You squint at him, trying to find why he isn’t moving. Oh! He is actually trying to figure out the flavor. You pulled away. He licks his lip, before grabbing you back this time he holds for you a second.
He again licks his lips. His mouth agape for a second. “Cola.” He says. Your eyes widen.
“What the hell, how did you get that right?” He shrugs and smiles.
“I’m pretty competitive when I want to win.” You rolled your eyes.
“I don’t know. You are competing against me,” You shrug, picking up another flavor. This time you went for an absurd one. He laughs, not believing you.
“Exactly! I’m going to win for sure.” He says then tilting his head up waiting for another kiss. You give him a quick kiss, immediately pulling away. He pouts.
“That isn’t fair. Come back!” He says grabbing your shoulders. The kiss is a bit more sloppy. He stops and pulls away. Just staring at you with that stupid blindfold. His nose scrunches.
His nose bumps onto your lips. “Yuji!” You placed your hand on top of his shoulders. He smells your lip. He stops and pulls away.
“I don’t smell anything.” He tilts his head innocently.
“Well, you are supposed to taste it not smell” your sentence was cut off, his lips crashed back to you. A bit more aggressive. His hand holding your jaw in place. His lips looking for the answer.
“Fuck.” He groans softly against your lips, you clasp your thighs together. He pause and thinks.
“What kind of flavor did you get?” He pauses. “Let me taste it again.” He kisses you again. An idea struck his head.
“Wait, wait, wait I think I know!” His posture snaps up straight and perfect. His index finger up.
“It’s cherry flavor,”
“Hot Cheeto.”
“What!” He opens his mouth.
You shook your head and laughed.
“There’s no way,” he said in disbelief.
You placed a hand over your mouth trying to suppress your laughter.
“What kind of chapsticks did you get… freaking weird options. What is next? Booty sweat fart, oh jeez.” He cringed just at the thought of that.
You felt his confidence fade away. Exactly how you wanted it.
You were always intrigued by Yuji’s pink hair. You thought it was beautiful and it took you a while to believe he was actually born with it. You found yourself always playing with it or making it the topic of discussion whenever you could. Yuji didn’t mind— he thought it was adorable.
Yuji’d invited you over to watch the Earth Worm movies with him. You were avoiding looking at the screen because the movie had too many jump scares, so you occupied yourself with playing with Yuji’s hair.
“You know, babe, I’ve been thinking and I really want to dye my hair like yours.” You whispered in his ear. Yuji turned to you, his face already lighting up like a Christmas tree.
“Really? Do you mean that? We can go to the store right now!” He exclaimed, you giggled and nodded.
“I’m very serious. Come on!” The both of you hopped out of the bed like wombats.
As the two of you navigated the hair aisle, Yuji was practically bouncing up and down while you tried to match the dye with his hair color without making people have to ask were you siblings or dating.
“This rosy color matches well don’t you think?” You showed him the box.
“It looks great!” He beamed.
The two of you walked back home, bag full of expensive hair shit in hand and anticipation.
You and Yuji got back home and made a beeline to his bathroom. Yuji helped you put the bleach on first, which was the boring part. And now it was time for the dye.
“Yuji, don’t get it on my neck!” You squealed. Yuji was going to town on your head, he made sure to cover every inch of your head in the pink.
“I’m trying not to! This is so fun! We’re gonna match!” You giggled at his contagious excitement.
“It is pretty cool. It’s turning out so well.” You agreed with a smile on your face as he made all your hair stick up like a troll.
After an hour of letting it sit, three cold rinses, and blowdrying it and styling it the best you could with little to no heat tools in Yuji’s all male household, your hair was finally done.
“It looks amazing!” You beamed, running the pink strands through your fingers. Yuji watched you in awe, admiring both you and his masterpiece that was your vibrant hair.
“Yes it does. We match perfectly now, I love it!” You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips.
After lots of pictures and laughter, You and Yuji settled back down in his bed. Over the movies, you could hear his front door open and by the heavy slam you knew it was his uncle Sukuna. Suddenly you gasped.
“Yuji, the sink!” You remembered. Yuji had messed around and got a couple smidgens of dye on the bathroom sink. The color drained from Yuji’s face, no one wanted to hear Sukuna after a long shift.
“Uh… we’ll fake sleep!” He decided, pulling you down onto his chest and shutting his eyes. You did the same even though it was stupid.
“WHY IS THE SINK PINK!?” Sukuna’s loud voice bellowed. Choso’s laughter came even louder from his bedroom.
I LOVE YOUR YUJI WORKS and i see u love yuji sm sm sm and i’m here to share a little earworm cuz it’s got me in a chokehold
yuji in boxers… like…. those tight boxers that don’t do anything to hide his outline……
AAUFHFHFHF FAT COCK YUJI
✩꒱ tighty whities — ft. yuuji itadori .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ characters are adults. yuuji itadori & fem!reader. handjobs, big dick yuuji, counting the inches, roommates to lovers -> every once in a while yuuji pulls out his tightest, teeniest pair of underwear and every once in a while you’re curious enough to see what they’re hiding.
thank you sm friend! i love him so much i want to live between his heart and lungs sooo bad idk what this is im feeling Lustful.
yes yes yuuji in those sickening tight white undies. i feel like perhaps he bought them by mistake and only wears them when he’s out of his usual boxers. super tight, hugging the slender curve of his waist and perfectly outlining his girth even though it’s tucked away. you can clearly see whenever he leaks through them because the thin white fabric stretched over the meatiest parts of him barely conceals anything. a darkness patch at the seam always gives yuuji away.
he’d be kind of embarrassed about them, constantly adjusting himself around you, shifting because his balls are practically bursting through the threads. if you’re roommates or best friends, you’ve definitely seen them in the wash or the laundry you do together and he always snatches them up with blatantly obvious red cheeks because they’re stupidly small for him.
and for a while, you think that yuuji really is that small.
until you hear the way his short-term flings cry his name in bed like it’s the only prayer they know. until you start listening out for the quiet, whimpering praise he offers them when they take all of him so well, inch by inch like good girls.
one girl stops you by the fridge one morning, yuuji’s shirt clinging to her curves and covering the fingerpad shaped bruises on her hips. “i don’t know how you live with him without jumping his bones,” she’d giggled, reaching for your milk. “he’s got the whole package, you know?”
you start looking at itadori a little differently. your eyes fall from his face to his print when you greet him after work or in the mornings when he’s back from the gym — attempting to discern the type of underwear he’s wearing based on what shows through his sweats. and you’ve always been touchy with each other, you’re friends and he’s great for cuddles, but now when you’re relegated to his lap during movie nights with fushiguro and his girlfriend, todo and nobara, oh! and maki and yuuta — you can feel the difference in his girth pressed against every time he shifts.
when he’s got those little tight boxers on that struggle to contain his hard on. the one you both ignore.
it’s one of those same movie nights where you cross boundaries for the first time. nobara stays over, too drunk to go home and be on her own, so you offer up your room and hunker down with yuuji because todo’s got the couch this time. in the mix, you some how manage to convince your pink haired roommate that you sleep better when he’s around. not just because he sleeps naked, you know this — you’ve been waiting on it just to see if the rumours are true.
yuuji scratches the back of his neck sheepishly with a soft blooming blush as you undress for bed and you try not to be obvious when your eyes trace the hardlines of his body right down to his crotch. those stupid tight white boxers you can’t seem to ignore now.
“sorry, know it’s a lot.” because you keep staring and he keeps twitching underneath the fabric and you have no idea how to tell him he’s making your mouth water. “i can put some sweats on—?”
you’re all too eager when shake your head no. “i-it’s your room. sleep however you’re most comfortable!”
naturally you end up snuggled with itadori in bed. surrounded by him. an excuse to be close. yuuji in nothing but those evil little boxers and you in morning but his shirt. your face in his neck for safety from the horror movie you’re watching and his arm loose around your waist. and you really can’t help it, when his cock is sitting there all fat and heavy and weepy, kicking because the air in the room is against his feverish skin — your fingers dance down to the waist band playfully at first. you’re touchy. friends do this… but then they hit the sinful swirl of his pink happy trail and everything shifts.
lust starts to bubble within your eyes, usually so sweet and innocent. you just have to know if he feels as big as he looks in them.
yuuji exhales shakily. not looking at you. “you’re not watching the movie, are you?”
a hint. a chance. you take it. “can i touch it?” your ask is a breathless whisper — as light as summer’s breeze and barely there. like a figure in the night. touch him, rub on him, do everything you’ve been thinking about for months.
he’s already straining, clenched at the abdomen to keep himself from cumming from the friction against his inner seam. yet he grows under your inquisitive attention, throbbing in a dull rhythm that calls up your greed as though it were following the beating lull of a siren’s song.
yuuji’s cheeks glow warm in the dimness, a rose tinted flame in the dark. he swallows. “if you wanna… j-just be careful, yeah?”
that’s all it takes.
his head tips back in a filthy shameful moan — pink hair askew like the flutter of petals — and his throat bobs as he swallows down a flurry of curse words once your hand slips past the waistband. your grip curiously stretches the tightness of boxers as your tiny hand wraps around his fat girth. sticky, pulsing with arousal, prominent veins forming indents in your palm.
“you feel so big, yuuji,” your nose brushes his pulse point with the same gentleness you would with your lips for a kiss. it’s as if you’re trying to inhale his life force, tuck yourself impossibly closer. he feels swollen in your hand, cock beating as unsteadily as his heart, and he oozes premature white into the crevices of your finger prints. “sensitive too.”
“nngh, i know,” whilst itadori’s hips jump without his control and forces his length through your first, the weight of his crown drops to yours. the two of you share a view, your slippery hand in his near-see-through boxers doused with slick and precum beading from his sappy mushroomed tip. “s-sorry, fuck. ‘m just so hard and you’re so pretty and you smell so good.” he admits to you quietly in a high pitched whine, like a secret exchanged between two lovers at a rendezvous point. for your ears only. no one else gets to know how wrecked you have him.
the bulbous head of his cock is raw and red, shiny, as it peaks out from the elasticated band of his boxers — only because you’ve stroked him to full hardness. he no longer fits in the fabric. you thumb him there in comforting circles, spreading his arousal in the same manner that drool spreads across your tongue.
long, dark lashes flutter against your forehead like angel’s kisses and you squeeze around every inch that slides through your hold — sharing airy moans the more yuuji leaks against your tight knuckles. “you could make me cum like this, y-y’know? in my boxers like a — fuck — like a teenager,” yuuji stutters, chasing words that don’t make sense on his tongue. hips running after the solace your soft strokes. “makes me feel so filthy, but i’ve been waiting for you. t-to notice? how badly i’ve wanted it to be you touching me like this. i’d do anything for you. anything, baby girl.”
his honesty turns and twists your guts into feverish knots.
“then will you?” you purr artlessly. eyes on the string of drooly white leaking from his sensitive tip. “wanna see how much you cum too.”
“god yes, i can cum. i’ll cum for you. just —!” yuuji’s large hand slips around your wrist and he guides you. helps you tug on the parts of his dick that make him gargle and struggle for breath. he bucks upwards, chasing pleasure and the heavenly solace your fist has to offer. “that’s it, just like that. make me cum, been waiting for so long.”
you’re in awe of it all. the ripple of his abs as he thrusts, the way moans coil in between the letters of your name as they leave his lips. you touch yuuji like you were made for it, jerk him off as though it were instinct. squeezing him every time his hips draw back, circling his tip over and over in languid runs of your thumb around the world.
he takes that as a sign, permission to let go of the unravelling knot he’s been trying to hold together since first laying beside you. on instinct, like his body knows nothing else, he squeezes you tight against him — cheek smooshed against your crown, shaky loud and whimpers in your ear that have your own underwear damp and he snaps.
like a twig with little resistance to pressure.
“oh my god — baby, shit!”
yuuji’s release is sizeable, viscous like lava flow as it rockets hotly up his abdomen and pools amongst the ridges of his abs and belly button. white against gold. his underwear is positively soiled all the way through, crude stringy cum gathering amongst his balls and your wriggling fingers as you jerk him through his high. where his back bows towards the ceiling as though the heavens have come to collect his sweet soul and his thighs shake like his foundations are unsteady.
and even after all that, all the ropes of hot white that hit his skin — he’s still hard and swollen, monstrous in size that suddenly dawns on you as yuuji rolls you onto your back. landing on top.
his shoulders, as they heave, block out the glow of the movie playing behind him — crowding you against the pillows, acting as a shield to hide you away from the world and you feel him heavy against your tummy. cold with slick but heated with arousal at the same time.
your roommate grins, buzzing and slow. “how many inches is the biggest dick you’ve ever taken?”
“i don’t… know? i’ve never measured?” you squeak, suddenly flushed with a delicious mix of horniness and fear. “why?”
yuuji clicks his tongue then, big hand sliding up your face to cover your mouth — his free one guiding his erection between your now parted thighs.
“just wondering, how much of me you’ll be able to take tonight.”
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
✩꒱ something, someone to live for — ft. yuuji itadori .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ characters are adults. modulo yuuji itadori & fem!reader. smoking, implied age gap, somnophilia sorta, daddy kink -> an aged yuuji itadori finds something worth living for in you.
yes because that’s dada man. big dreamy sigh…
modulo yuuji all rugged and worn out by the world. his eyes ache with exhaustion, the kind that burrows deep within your cheek bones and settles within his sockets. his shoulders sag from the weight of power hanging unevenly between them. yuuji is tired. of the world of everything in it — the killing, the fighting. it never seems to end. it’s encapsulated in time, evidence littered along his body in battle scars and war wounds that only seem to heal with pale jagged lines along his tanned skin.
yuuji leans back against his dresser, muted and murky brown gaze traversing the solitude of his room until he finds something to live for. something like you.
his pretty baby, a sweet young thing who believes the world starts and ends with yuuji. you melt his rough exterior as though it’s candle wax lit by a warming flame — tended to by careful hands that love their craft all too much. you’re curled amongst bed sheets that wrap around you the same way they drape amongst marble statues — a modern day work of art amongst old bones and ancient artefacts.
the old man, by age and not by physicality, takes a drag of his cigarette and tacks it between rows his perfect teeth — pushing back strands of silky pink hair that never seem to stray far from his eyes before he makes his way over to the bed.
“baby,” yuuji settles over you, straddling your stomach with his length hard against the supple rippling flesh. “spread yourself open for daddy.” he taps your inner thigh, then taps ash onto the blankets below.
“can’t, ‘m tired.”
“are we now? that can’t be…” he tuts, without malice, not scolding you. please, baby? let daddy do all the work.”
you’re tired because he’s pushed you. stretched your body until your skin is paper thin and he can see your heart pound for him in your chest. his tongue traced the outlines of your cunt for at least an hour before yuuji decided to let you cum. it’s been days since you left the bed too, the room smells like tobacco, ash and sex and the little hint of love you seem to have laced between every orgasm.
even still, sleepily, your thighs spread as though he’s taken a key to unlock something precious and the crown jewels reside inside. you’re coated in his signature, a pretty picture of his release webbed and dried over your mound that pulses around nothing — waiting to be filled to the brim.
“that’s my girl,” he soothes you with praise. “always so ready for me. so sweet for your man, huh?”
your head shakes amongst your plethora of pillows stained with invisible ink in the form of tears and drool. “not my man, my daddy.” you heave as you correct him, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths and breasts bouncing with the barrage of thrusts oncoming from yuuji. he pounds at your quivering hole until it froths with bubbly white around him, more and more spewing every time his meaty girth dips in and out of you.
at your candy dipped moans and dulcet words, yuuji’s pace builds like the spark he had once lost. in the same way a firework draws a lightening trail across the sky before it explodes — the sorcerer’s hips wind back slow, pull away from the source of heat ( your dripping cunt ) before punching into you, tip nestled against your g-spot with a brilliant explosion of ecstasy behind your eyes.
colour returns to his life when yuuji gets to be with you like this, when your lips part and he catches a glimpse of the saliva that ties your tongue to the roof of your mouth. when you shakily reach out to rake your fingers through his sweaty pink roots, when you blink up at him and bow into him and trust him to be the man that takes care of you. “just like that,” you sigh dreamily, doing your best to roll your hips up and meet his own rabidly rocking hips. “right there, keep fuckin’ me here, daddy. gonna cum like this again.”
his cock twitches within the depths of you, rippling walls welcoming him home and soaking him in your personal claim. the word, the honour of daddy on your lips is enough to drive yuuji on — to keep him going because he knows that there’s someone who needs him at the end of every day. he’s your daddy and you are his saviour — the thought makes him weak in the knees and dissolves his resolve until it’s nothing but crumbling wet sand.
“let me see it then, feel you cum around me like a good girl,” yuuji pants his promise to pleasure, nose nudging the sweaty side of your head. “be daddy’s good little girl one more time. all for me.”
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
he’s buried deep inside you, hips pressed flush against yours, when his gaze drops to your lower belly. there, just below your navel, a soft bulge appears every time he thrusts in—the clear outline of his cock pressing against your insides.
“whoa…” he breathes. “baby, look at that.”
his palm slides over your stomach, gently pressing down. the bulge becomes even more obvious under his hand and yuji lets out a headless laugh, his eyes sparkling.
“i can see myself inside you! that’s so cool—” he pushes in again, slower this time, watching mesmerized as the bulge moves with him. “it’s like… i’m so deep.”
you whimper, overwhelmed by how full you already feel. “yuji… slow down—”
but he’s too caught up in the sight. his hand stays pressed to your tummy, thumb stroking over the little bulge every time he rocks forward. the fascination quickly turns into something hotter. his hips start moving faster without him realizing, shallow thrusts turning into deeper, quicker strokes.
“it keeps showing up every time i push in,” he says, almost panting now. “look, look— there it is again!”
he speeds up, eyes glued to your stomach, completely drawn to the way your body accommodates him. each thrust makes the bulge more prominent, and yuji can’t stop staring, can’t stop touching it.
you’re gasping, fingers gripping his shoulders as another orgasm is building fast. “yuji— ah! too fast—!”
he doesn’t even register your words at first. he’s too distracted, too lost in the intoxicating Read more.....
your bed dips slightly as you out your weight onto it. you glance towards your desk, the papers and assignments scattered across, looking like some sort of nest a bird tried to make. you let out a small sigh, trying to keep it together as your thoughts scramble into big mess. you don't even realize your crying until you feel the tears hit your lap.
knock knock!
“(name) ? are you in there ? you weren't in class today !”
you hear the sweet little pink haired boy, itadori squeak out.
you quickly wipe your tears, trying to get rid of your rosy cheeks from crying as you patter toward your dorm door and open it slowly as itadori's face slips into your view.
“ (name) ! I brought some take out ! here, it's your favourite, the little–... ”
yujis excitement in his voice dies down slowly as he catches sight of your rosy cheeks and tear brimmed eyes, realizing that you've been crying. a little frown makes his way to his face as he let's himself in and holds both of your shoulders gently.
“ hey.. what happened? why are you crying? ”
he gently asks as he leads you to the couch in your dorm and sits you down. you're about to explain yourself before he quickly rushes off to your bedroom. you let out a soft sigh and close your eyes, waiting for him to come back. the thoughts of all the work you have due this week rush into your mind all at once, and you start to feel the lodge in your throat build again, tears threatening to spill. you're reminded that Itadori is here when you feel a soft, blanket being draped over your legs. your favorite one, in fact and yuji putting the takeout on the desk next to you. he slips onto the couch next to you and starts to scroll through the channels until he settles on one of the shows you find funniest.
“ here, look! your favorite. now, please stop crying.. It's gonna make me cry as well, okay? now come on and eat. I know you've been stressing over the work. ”
you let out a soft chuckle and snuggle into his side before letting yourself speak in a quiet, sore voice.
“ I just don't.. feel smart anymore. I'm always on my A-game with the work.. but I just don't have the motivation anymore.. I don't know why. ”
you feel your voice get shakier as you let the words slip out. suddenly, yujis voice breaks rje silence after your confession.
“ are you kidding me? (Name), you're the smartest person I know! I mean, you literally know everything. I think you're the smartest person I have ever, ever met. ”
you giggle at his response, and nod.
“ thank you, Itadori. even if there's not much competition on who's the smartest in our friend group. ”
as the night goes on, yuji slowly makes the thoughts and stress of schoolwork slowly dissapear with the night ending with you asleep on the couch, cuddled up to yuji.
hii !! this is my second post.. so.. I'm proud of myself! I think (?) this is in character so I really hope so! this was a request which gave me a lot more motivation knowing someone liked my writing and was waiting for me to post again!! thank u so so much for all the support I never would've thought my post would get 100 likes!! I love u guys so much thank uu!!
tag list : @idontwantyouasmywifi
@ryosdoll ® do not feed any of my media to ai , steal any media , or criticize any 𓈒
F1Driver!Yuji who is the race world's good boy underdog. His teammate Megumi is the silent but deadly fast. Both are mentored by the one and only Gojo, a retired multiple-time world champion. A strong team, but with young drivers who still need to establish themselves; they have a lot to live up to.
F1Driver!Yuji who is known for his positive attitude and sharp jawline. Often flashing the media a smile and a wave, regardless of how the race has gone. He is showered with kind words and praise for his skill and sportsmanship alike. This is his second season on the grid, still new but not fresh.
F1Driver!Yuji who spun out in the trials. He's kicking himself for the mistake, and cameras zoom in on his disappointed face as the other drivers fly past. Including his teammate Megumi, who is favoured to podium.
F1Driver!Yuji who can't help but feel defeated. This was not how he wanted to start the race week. He feels more stuck than he ever has.
F1Driver!Yuji who needs to clear his head after the qualifiers, so he sneaks off to go sightseeing. He enjoys walking the streets without all the fuss of the media, the intensity of competition, and the other drivers. He dresses down and is more comfortable, hat over his signature pink hair so as not to draw attention to himself.
F1Driver!Yuji, who sees you when he's wandering about. You're getting lunch alone, leaning back in your chair, reading a book. Yuji stops dead in his tracks.
F1Driver!Yuji who is instantly enamoured with you. From your beautiful hair tossed back and pouty lips, to the way you flip the page. He can feel his heart in his throat just watching you.
F1Driver!Yuji who hasn't felt this level of thrill since taking his spot on the grid for the first time two years ago.
F1Driver!Yuji who has to hype himself up to walk over to you. He panics and walks right past.
Ok reroute
F1Driver!Yuji, who walks past you into the restaurant and asks for the patio seat next to you.
“Come here often?”
F1Driver!Yuji who cringes internally at the terrible attempt at starting a conversation with you
F1Driver!Yuji who is glad you laugh it off. You reveal that you've actually never been here but decided it was time to treat yourself to what you call “self date”.
F1Driver!Yuji who finds it easy to talk with you, it flows. He loves your laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, and the flush you get when he compliments you.
F1Driver!Yuji who learns you don't watch racing or know anything about motorsport.
She doesn't know me, no pressure to perform or be the best … just me…
F1Driver!Yuji who is shocked when you ask for his number. He was going to ask YOU, but you beat him to it
F1Driver!Yuji who blushes when you say that you liked talking to him, and will text him later
F1Driver!Yuji who doesn't know how to text you. He keeps getting butterflies or saying something far too cheesy. Eventually, he settles on
“I liked chatting with you! Coffee sometime? :)”
He debated the simile face for about twenty minutes.
F1Driver!Yuji who has to toss his phone across his hotel room after sending
𝜗𝜚 Summer clubbing is fun! Well, minus the occasional creepy guy Yuji Itadori has to step in to save you from. He’s so sweet, so caring, so boyish… and so strong when he holds you up against a wall, hips messily slotted against yours!
content: smut, p in v, standing, alcohol, semi-public, making out, “good boy”, creampies
wc: 2.3k
series masterlist
part six | part seven | last chapter (coming Friday <3)
“Wait, delete that, my hair looks messy-“ Nobara complains drunkenly, swaying on her heels next to you in the bathroom mirror you’re both sharing as the music rattles the walls.
“I can’t delete it, it’s- hah- a Polaroid.” You answer, slurring your words slightly as you finish off the last of your drink and wince as the falsely fruity flavour burns your throat. “So it’s stuck with us now.”
She groans and throws her hands in the air. “Ughhh, well don’t show anybody!” You mime zipping your lips shut, trying to make your vision stop drifting. “Yuji’s outside, but I’m gonna go find Megumi- I bet he hasn’t even finished his first drink yet, so I will for him.” She storms out of the bathroom, leaving you to lean on the sink as you fidget with the hem of your dress.
Your shoes would click against the floor, but you can’t hear it over the music- loud bass you have to raise your voice over, leaning on Yuji as he greets you. “You’re such a fake friend, Yu,” you complain, “you didn’t even come into the bathroom with me.”
“Uh, yeah…” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “because it’s the women’s bathroom, and I’m kinda… not a woman.”
You sigh and grab his arm, steadying your steps and blinking through the strobe lighting. “Come on, I wanna find Nobara.” You carve a path through the thrumming crowd, arms brushing against people’s sweaty bodies- and then you hear it.
“Hey pretty, whatcha doing all alone?”
You groan internally; really? Now?
“I’m not interested.” You say flatly, the alcohol in your bloodstream agitating the words more than you intended.
“No boyfriend?” The man leers. His eyes are halfway closed in the strobes, bright lines of orange and pink illuminating the grin on his face. “You look like you could use some real company-“
“Hey, babe!” Yuji Itadori beams from behind you, wrapping his arms protectively around your waist. “Who’s this?”
The man’s eye twitches. He takes in the curve of Yuji’s biceps, the slight glint of threat in his eyes, and the way his smile hints at more than just casual conversation, then apparently decides it’s not worth it.
“Nothing.” He mutters, stalking off into the throngs of people to no doubt harass another poor girl.
“Thanks, Yu.” You exhale, rubbing your temple, “but…”
“But what?”
“He isn’t gonna believe us if-” you avert your eyes embarrassedly, “just… you need to keep holding me. He’s still looking.”
He is- stood in a nearby gap, nursing his drink, glaring over the rim of the bottle at you both. “Okay, okay-“ Yuji agrees eagerly, “cool, I can do that. Just on your waist?”
You breathe sharply through your nose. “I’m gonna dance, and you are gonna hold onto me. Okay?”
“Oh.” Yuji straightens up just a little behind you, fingers digging slightly more into the sparkles of your dress. “Okay, yeah, I can do that.”
He can do this, right? It’s just dancing, he thinks naively, squinting down at your head as his hands splay across your hips. But then, instead of the casual sways of your body to the beat, you really start to move-
And Yuji knows he’s fucked immediately.
Your hips roll against him, your glitter-splattered eyelids closing while your head rocks side to side on time with the instrumental clanging off the walls and other surrounding bodies.
“Fuck.” Yuji breathes, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to think of anything other than the way your ass feels pressed up against his jeans. But he can feel the curve of your hips beneath his hands and the way they move, he’s almost electrically aware of the way you reach back a hand to rest on his nape.
In doing so, you crook your head to the side, and Yuji chokes on his own unsteady breathing. The angle gives him the most perfect, most devastatingly clear view down into your cleavage- held up by your dress, the positioning leaves little to the imagination as he gapes.
“Okay, I think he’s gone now!” You turn to face him and yell over the music, “we can go- Yuji, are you okay?”
He definitely doesn’t look okay. His cheeks are flushed red enough to be obvious even in the dark lighting, eyes darting and nervous as his hands tremble on your waist. You arch a brow. “What’s wrong?”
There’s a vague sense of shame painting his pretty features, from his coral hair right down to-
“Holy fuck.” You say instinctually, eyes wide. “Yuji, are you turned on?”
Your question is almost rhetorical in nature- of course he’s turned on, you can see the tent in his jeans from miles away. “Sorry!” He blurts, looking anywhere but your face.
“It’s just, I can’t help it.” He says miserably, the tips of his ears flaming. “I’ll go right now, seriously, just forget this ever happened, okay?”
You aren’t sure if it’s delusion, excess alcohol simmering in your bloodstream, or the need you feel to rid your friend’s face of the painful embarrassment accosting him that guides your next action.
“Yuji.” You say firmly over the music, grabbing his wrist. “Let me help.”
Humidity slicks the walls where you end up, cramped into a dark corner nobody would pay attention to if you paid them. It’s easy enough to yank the zipper of Yuji’s jeans down, metal clinking against your fingernails and shimmering in the remnants of coloured fluorescence that dip into the space.
It’s easier for him to pause, hand trembling on your wrist, and swallow thickly before speaking. “Wait- I want you to feel good too.”
It’s even easier for Yuji to drag you into a secluded bathroom, far-flung and thankfully clean. The door clicks shut behind you, and your hands immediately snap back to his belt, your mouth pressing against his to muffle his heavy panting.
Yuji moans as you pull him out of his underwear, already flushed and beading precum; the noise he makes goes straight to your clenched thighs, a sharp little gasp as his head falls back against the wall.
You pause, a slight smile spreading over your face- it’s such a Yuji move, nervous grin on his lips as he talks about wanting to fuck you. “I can hold you up.” He offers bashfully, “I won’t drop you, I promise-“
You cut him off with your mouth. He makes a bright noise of surprise, tongue gathering the flavoured gloss on your lips and rolling your sounds on his tastebuds. “Okay, okay-“ he breathes to himself, like he’s preparing for something; you don’t get a chance to ask what for, because suddenly you’re being hoisted into the sex-sticky air with two big hands holding you in place.
An incredulous laugh almost slips from your lips at just how effortlessly strong he is, fingers digging into your bare thighs, but it’s swiftly cut off by your own shaky gasp as he gently tugs your underwear to the side.
“Oh my god,” he says, genuine interest spreading boyishly across his face, “you’re, like… really wet. Like, completely soaked-“
“Yuji.” You interrupt suddenly, hand on his nape to steady yourself, “are you gonna fuck me or not?”
His head snaps back up, eyes suddenly a few hues darker. “Yeah. I am.”
And he does- Yuji’s head falls back as you line him up, slicking his length in the mess between your thighs before notching the tip at your entrance. “Fuck.” He whispers shakily, watching the way you stretch to accommodate him and basking sunnily in the warmth of your cunt.
“You’re so warm-“ he moans quietly, “so, so warm-“
“Move.” You gasp, staring dazedly at where he’s bottomed out inside you. “Please.”
The pace is steadier than you expected; maddeningly, in fact- the smooth slide of his cock inside your drenched pussy is dizzyingly good, soft little moans dripping from your mouth into his in the fluorescence above.
The lighting is unforgiving overhead, buzzing quietly as Yuji stares down at where you’re taking it. In this much brightness, he can see everything- the smears of shine across your soft skin, the dimpling of your flesh into redness where he’s gripping you against the wall, the torturously slow glide of his cock.
When he pulls out, he can see the way your slick coats his length, and the vision only serves to make him throw his hips into you harder. As he does so, hair drops in bedraggled tufts to his eyes, and you scrape it back with your shaky hand without thinking. Yuji whines.
Actually whines- like a puppy, leaning into the clammy touch of your palm on his flaming cheek as you scrape your nails across his neck and shoulders with the other.
For once, you’re glad of just how obnoxiously packed this club is- the music outside is wailing, people’s thumping footsteps and drunken laughter echoing together into an amalgamated cacophony that nicely covers up whatever noises you’re both making.
If sobriety seeps along slowly in your body, you don’t notice; you’re so inexplicably drunk on the feel of him inside you that it negates the alcohol levels dropping, your own cockdrunkeness acting as a suppressant to the headache threatening to creep up on you.
You’re not sure what you were expecting from Yuji Itadori, but his dick is perfect. Thick enough to stretch deliciously but not enough to burn, pretty pink wisps of hair dusted along his navel.
He’s curved just slightly, leaky tip smearing shiny globules of pre across sensitive patches inside you that make your hips shake and your knees weak. Your thighs would be shaking too, if it weren’t for his steady grip on them.
“Yuji, m’close.” You moan, eyes struggling to stay open when you drift a hand down to your own soaked clit to rub nonsensical shapes. “Keep going-“
“I will, I will-“ Yuji pants, the words like a mantra. “I will-“
God, he’s so eager to please; desperate to make you cum with him, he starts hoisting your hips back towards him and you squeak in surprise.
“Good boy, Yu.” You breathe, biting down lightly on his pulse point. You really meant the endearment, he is being such a good boy for you; doing everything you ask and more- you don’t expect him to take it the way he does.
“Fuck!” He gasps, hips stuttering inside you as he tips himself over the edge prematurely. You feel it flood you in messy drips, sticking in webby shades of white to your skin.
“Yuji?” You ask dazedly, registering the sudden influx of wetness between your legs and the embarrassed flush creeping onto his tanned skin. “Yuji, did you-“
“Yes.” He groans, moving his hips again. “Don’t worry-“
He’s pushing himself past the point of overstimulation just for you; just to ensure you get the orgasm he feels you deserve for being such a helpful friend to him. “Oh my god, Yuji-“
You collapse into a series of whines and thankful tears as you cum, your fingers stalling on your clit when the orgasm seeps into your veins. Yuji holds you through it, pressing his cock flush to the base inside to rock you just a little.
You regain your consciousness slowly, vision not swimming quite as much when you come to. Your throat hurts and your inner thighs are damp.
“Yuji, you can put me down.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Your heels feel unsteady beneath the arches of your feet, Yuji awkwardly handing you wedges of tissue to scrape as much slick as possible from your damp skin.
You groan. “Oh my god, my underwear is ruined.”
Yuji winces apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
The soiled tissue paper lands in the cistern and you flush it away from sight, Yuji watching on with as much boyish innocence as he ever like he didn’t just make you cum pressed against a club bathroom stall. “Do you… wanna go home?”
Hair falls in front of your face as you nod and swing open the bathroom door. “It’s too loud in here, anyway. Jesus, I’m gonna have such a migraine tomorrow.”
When you step back into the main room, head throbbing suddenly, a wave of perfume and fruity alcohol- with a slight tinge of sweat, unfortunately- hits you in the face and your eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden onslaught of colours.
“Hey, there you are!” Nobara shouts over the music, gripping your arm. “Seriously, it reeks in here. Megumi is already outside, I don’t think his poor sensitive ears could take it.”
You force a smile. “I bet. Can we go? My head is throbbing.”
Nobara is already forcefully shoving her way through the crowd. “Obviously, that’s why I needed to find you- oh, and Yuji’s here too.”
Yuji is, in fact, here too- helping Nobara find an easy passage through the impermeable wall of bodies. He’s an even greater help when you finally get back to your front door, waving you inside with Megumi and Nobara in tow. His hand fidgets slightly.
“I hope you feel better!” He whispers- it is nighttime, after all- and waits for you to click the door shut with a small smile.
Makeup slips into the wipes from your face easily as you stagger through the usual motions of getting ready to sleep, mascara smearing over the cotton along with glitter and concealer and every other product slathered onto your skin.
As you silently lie in your bed, head pressurised to bursting, you come to the conclusion that you’ll have to stay in tomorrow evening as your parents make a trip out- no ‘supervision’ required this time.
Maybe you’ll order in some food if you don’t still feel like vomiting, you think dimly, holding silent conversations with yourself in the dark.
Yeah, okay. Pizza sounds good, you guess.
series masterlist | check out the photo album! | regular masterlist
a/n: only one chapter (+ the epilogue) left! I wonder who's delivering the food...
Yuji didn't have much time to enjoy the things he used to and he didn't have many people to talk to either, at least not anymore. But there were times where that spark of his inner child would light up again. You were one of the only people he was close to, so when he buys movie tickets and invites you on a spontaneous adventure, who are you to say no?
The newly released film, Human Earthworm (whatever number we're at right now) was the only thing lighting up the dark cinema and was the only thing concealing the multitude of inappropriate sounds coming from the back of the theater. There you were kneeling between his spread legs and sucking him like it was your last meal.
Halfway through the movie you and Yuji stopped paying attention to whatever was happening on the big screen and poured all your desires on to each other. You could have easily been caught and kicked out immediately but luckily for you, the room was almost completely empty save for maybe a couple or two in the front.
Your lips wrapped around the sensitive tip, pre-cum reaching your taste buds. You feel Yuji's large hand tugging at your hair, as muffled moans barely reach your ears. "Mmm... fuck baby..."
When you glance up all you could notice was that blissed out expression as if he was desperate for relief for ages. Which was accurate considering how rare it was for him to get meaningful connection, much less have time to get a much needed blowjob.
Seeing that look in his eyes only spurs you on, your whimpers vibrating against his girth. You could feel the growing wetness completely soaking your panties, as you push his cock deeper down your tight throat.
"A-ah..!" Yuji gasps, the sound traveling further than intended. You could feel his dick throbbing in your mouth. He throws his head against the velvet cushions of the chair, biting his lower lip as he groans, "Mhm.. Just- just like that."
The risk of being heard or caught was heart racing, claustrophobic but oh how you enjoyed swirling your tongue around his dick, just waiting for him to make another sound despite trying oh so hard to hold back.
The way you glaze up at him with those pretty watery eyes looked so... innocent; all while bobbing your head up and down his hard length. The contrast was enough to make him cum on the spot.
You could sense how close he was and that encouraged a faster momentum, your hand coming up to massage his balls. "Mmf, you gonna cum, Yu..?" You whimper into cock. You knew better not to speak with your mouth full, especially not to ask the obvious. But messing with him was too hard to resist, especially when he was getting all whiny and desperate.
He nods immediately, low groans and whines filling the air along with the ongoing movie. Yuji's hand tightens around your hair, pushing you deeper, chasing that climax. Hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat as you drink it down, his thighs trembling through his release; It felt like pure relief after being deprived for so long.
You pull back with a soft pop, the sound of heavy breathing along with the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the air. Yuji's hands slowly loosen their grip, mindlessly toying with your hair before mumbling breathlessly, “Hmm good girl…” The praise makes your heart skip as you relax into the weight of his hand. You could easily go for more but it only took a small glimpse behind you to see that the white list of names were rolling down the big screen. Anyone who came to watch this had already left, leaving you, Yuji, and mess in-between his legs.
Before you could open your mouth to address the elephant in the room, Yuji beat you to it, “Guess we missed the movie, huh?” He was smiling sheepishly while stating the obvious but it was such a Yuji thing to do. He didn't say it out loud but despite the risk of a lifetime ban at the theater he couldn't find a single ounce of shame for this. “I'll make it up to ya, baby, promise…” He murmurs with little hesitation, he didn't think too hard about it. Even after all this time he was still honest and giving by default.
His words caused a quiet pause; no rushing to walk out like nothing happened, at least not yet. Studying his expression only made you smile, resting your cheek on his knee. His body was significantly less tense than before and you got to see a glimpse of a smile on his face between the intimacy. It was a win in your book but of course you couldn't turn down a promise like that could you, not when your panties were soaked like this. “I'll hold you to that.”
