warnings … fem!reader, stoner!eren, jealous!eren, face fucking <69>, oral <f received>, cervix kissing, slapping <titties, face, ass>, hair pulling, finger sucking, overstimulation, degrading, praising, spit play, reader creams, brief daddy kink, eren is feral af, aftercare for us softies.
mocha’s note … thank you to that anon who says this song reminds them of eren. i can’t stop playing it now. been on repeat for days.
“yo,” is the first way eren greets you, nodding his head as he brushes past you after you open the back door, sneaking him into your home late in the afternoon, already smelling of weed with his hands stuffed into his black hoodie, the hood over his dark brown hair as he chews his gum. he remembers to take off his shoes so he wouldn’t track mud over the house, grabbing them and hiding them in the closet in case your parents came home early. he’s lightly coated with rain, the mixture of it with his cologne fanning over the area.
This story is based off the idea from the lovely scrumptious_chowder on TikTok. Please go look at her videos and bless her for this idea
This story includes: smut, smoking blunts, creame pies, daddy kink, shotgunning, and a sexy ass uncle Sunkuna.
"You are so fucking cute!" You said as you bounced a babbling baby Itadori on your knee. You liked this little kid, but his fucking uncle should be the one watching him.
Sukuna Ryomen.
Itadori's uncle and your friend of years. His crazy ass was currently too preoccupied in whatever the fuck was on TV rather than watching his nephew who he barely sees anyway. You turned your head to look at him sitting next to you on his couch.
"Shouldn't your ass be the one watching him?"
Without even looking at you he spoke. "You seem to be having fun with him. He don't need me."
You sucked your teeth. "That's not the point, Kuna. This is your nephew. Your brother dropped him off so you could spend time with him, not me."
Sukuna just shrugged one shoulder, eyes still glued to the TV. He was slouched back against the couch, legs spread wide in those grey sweats that sat low on his hips. Black tee hugging his chest and arms just right. The tattoo sleeves on both arms were on full display, dark ink curving over muscle every time he moved even slightly.
And he smelled...lord.
Whatever cologne he had on was doing too much. Too much to you atleast. Something spicy that kept floating your way every couple of seconds. You tried not to think about it.
Tried.
Baby Itadori grabbed at your necklace with his chubby little fingers and yanked, pulling your attention back to him. "Ow, hey, little man, that's not for you." You gently pried his hand off the chain and he let out the most dramatic whine. His little face scrunched up and his bottom lip poked out.
"See, now you got him started," Sukuna muttered from beside you.
"Excuse me? I got him started?" You shifted Itadori on your lap so he was facing you, bouncing him again to calm him down. "If you would actually hold your nephew for more than two seconds-"
"I held him when he got here."
"For like thirty seconds, Sukuna."
"That's still holding him."
You gave him the flattest look you could manage. He finally turned his head to look at you and had the nerve to smirk. That lazy, cocky smirk too. His eyes dropped to Itadori for a second, then back to you.
"He looks happy with you. Why would I mess that up?"
"Because he's your family, fool."
Sukuna exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite, and turned back to the TV. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they'd get stuck. This man was ridiculous. Fine as hell, but ridiculous.
You'd known Sukuna since college. Met him at a house party sophomore year when he'd bumped into you and spilled half his drink on your shoes. Instead of apologizing like a normal person, he'd looked down at your feet, looked back at you, and said, "Those were ugly anyway." You'd cussed him out for a solid minute and he'd just stood there grinning. Been friends ever since, somehow. That was about six years ago now.
Six years of being around this man's face, his voice, his everything. Six years of pretending you didn't notice the way his jaw looked when he clenched it, or how his hands were big enough to wrap around your whole thigh. Six years of keeping it cool, keeping it friendly, and swallowing down whatever the fuck it was that sat in your chest every time he got too close.
Itadori started babbling again, slapping his hands against your thigh. "Da da da da-"
"Oh, you trying to talk now?" You leaned your face closer to his. "Say auntie. Aun-tie."
"Ba!" He smacked your cheek with his whole palm.
"Close enough." You kissed the top of his head, his little tuft of pink-ish hair tickling your nose. Kid had the most interesting hair color. Sukuna's phone buzzed on the coffee table and he reached for it, glancing at the screen. "Jin said he's on his way."
"Already? It's only been like two hours."
"That's two hours too long." Sukuna set the phone back down and looked at Itadori with this expression that was almost affectionate but mostly tired. "Love the kid. But he's loud as fuck."
"He's a baby. They're supposed to be loud."
"Nah, this one's different. He's got some lungs on him." Sukuna stretched his arms above his head and you caught a peek of skin where his tee rode up. Dark ink curving beneath his navel, a sliver of tan skin, the waistband of his boxers just barely visible above the sweats. You looked away real quick.
Not quick enough, apparently, because when you glanced back his eyes were on you. Just looking. Not saying anything. That smirk was gone but something sat in his expression, something warm, maybe, or just observant.
You couldn't tell.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing."
"Why you looking at me like that then?"
"I can't look at you?"
"Not all weird like that, no."
He let out a low laugh. A real one this time, not that half-exhale thing he did. It rumbled out of his chest and you felt it in yours. "You look good with a baby on your lap. That's all."
Your face got warm. You bounced Itadori a little harder than necessary. "Boy, shut up."
"I'm just saying-"
"And I'm just saying shut up."
He raised his hands in surrender, still laughing under his breath. You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face even as you tried to kill it. Itadori, sensing the energy shift, started bouncing himself on your knee and squealing like this was the greatest moment of his little life.
"See, now he's riled up," Sukuna said, nodding at the baby. "That's on you."
"He's having fun!"
"He's about to start screaming."
"No he's not, he's fine. Aren't you, baby?" You held Itadori up in the air and he kicked his little legs, giggling. "See? Happy."
Sukuna just shook his head. "Don't come crying to me when he starts losing it."
You ignored him and kept playing with the baby. You held Itadori against your chest and swayed a little, rubbing his back in circles. He grabbed a fistful of your hair this time, and stuffed some in his mouth before you could stop him.
"No no no-" You tugged it free gently and Itadori's face immediately crumpled. Lip trembling. Eyes watering. Oh no. "Oh shit. No, baby, it's okay-"
Too late.
The wail that came out of that tiny body was nuclear. Itadori threw his head back and screamed with everything he had, face turning red, tears popping out of nowhere.
Sukuna didn't even flinch. Just tilted his head and looked at you. "Told you."
"Shut the fuck up and help me!"
He sighed like you'd asked him to move a mountain, but he reached over and plucked Itadori right off your lap with one arm. One arm. Like the baby weighed nothing. He set Itadori against his chest, big hand covering the baby's entire back, and leaned into the couch.
"Chill," Sukuna said. Not to you. To the baby. And the crazy thing was, Itadori actually started calming down. The screaming dialed back to a whimper, then to a hiccup, then to nothing. The baby just buried his face in Sukuna's chest and went still, his little body rising and falling.
You stared. "How the hell did you do that?"
"I'm a good uncle." Sukuna's voice was lower now, almost soft. His hand moved in a slow circle on Itadori's back and the baby's eyes were already drooping. "When I wanna be."
Something about seeing this giant-ass man hold a baby like that with his tatted arm wrapped around the tiny body, his face relaxed, his voice quiet, it did something to you. You cleared your throat and looked at the TV.
"Yeah, well. Maybe you should've been holding him the whole time then."
"Maybe."
The doorbell rang about twenty minutes later. Itadori had fully passed out on Sukuna's chest by then, little mouth open, drooling on his uncle's black tee. Sukuna looked down at the wet spot forming on his shirt.
"This kid, man." He shook his head but there was no real annoyance in it. He looked at you. "Get the door for me?"
"Now I'm the one doing stuff?"
"My nephew is sleeping on me. You want me to wake him up?"
You narrowed your eyes but got up anyway, stepping over to the front door and pulling it open. Jin stood on the other side with his car keys in hand. Itadori's dad looked a lot like Sukuna, same bone structure, same height, but with a warmer face and softer eyes. Where Sukuna had a damn attitude most of the time, Jin was gentle. Easy to talk to.
"Hey, Y/n!" Jin smiled wide. "How's my little man been?"
"He was an angel. Just fell asleep like five minutes ago." You stepped aside to let him in.
Jin walked into the apartment and spotted Sukuna on the couch with Itadori knocked out on his chest. His whole face lit up. "Look at that. Uncle of the year."
"Fuck outta here," Sukuna said, but there was no bite to it.
Jin walked over and carefully peeled Itadori off Sukuna's chest. The baby stirred, made a small noise, then settled right back into sleep against his father's shoulder. Jin was already pulling a little blanket from the diaper bag slung over his arm, wrapping it around the sleeping baby.
"He eat?" Jin asked.
"Yeah, Y/n fed him earlier," Sukuna said, sitting up and stretching. "He had some of that mashed pea shit."
"The organic ones?"
"Man, I don't know. Green stuff in a jar."
Jin laughed and looked at you. "Thanks for actually taking care of him."
"Somebody had to," you said with a pointed look at Sukuna, who flipped you off without turning around.
Jin lingered for a few minutes, leaning against the arm of the couch while Itadori slept on his shoulder. He talked about work, something about a new project at his engineering firm, and asked Sukuna about some fight he'd apparently gotten into at the gym last week.
"It wasn't a fight," Sukuna said. "Dude was talking shit and I corrected him."
Jin sighed. "You're gonna get banned."
"Then I'll find another gym."
You sat in the chair across from them, legs tucked under you, watching the brothers go back and forth. They had this dynamic that was entertaining. Jin trying to be the responsible one, Sukuna not giving a single fuck. It was funny because underneath all the attitude, Sukuna actually did care about his brother. He just had a weird way of showing it.
After a few more minutes of catching up, Jin adjusted Itadori on his shoulder and grabbed the diaper bag. "Alright, let me get this little man home before it gets too late. Y/n, always good to see you."
"You too, Jin. Drive safe."
He headed for the door and Sukuna got up to walk him out. You heard them exchange a few more words in the hallway, something you couldn't quite make out, then a laugh from Jin, before the door shut. The lock clicked.
And just like that, the apartment was different.
It was weird how fast the energy shifted. A minute ago there was a whole baby here, conversations happening, that comfortable group atmosphere. Now it was just you and Sukuna and the TV casting blue-white light across the room. The kitchen light was on too. That warm yellow glow spilling from around the corner. The rest of the apartment sat in low shadows.
Sukuna came back into the living room and dropped himself onto the couch like his bones were made of concrete. He groaned, tipping his head back against the cushion, eyes closing.
"God damn. I love that kid but I'm tired."
You laughed from the opposite end of the couch, your legs stretched out in front of you on the cushions. "You barely did anything."
"Emotional labor." He cracked one eye open. "That's still labor."
"You so damn dramatic."
He closed his eye again and sat like that for a second, just breathing. Then he leaned forward, reaching for the coffee table. You watched his hands as he pulled out a small wooden tray, a baggie, a pack of wraps, and a lighter. He set everything up methodically, arranging it all within arm's reach, and leaned back again.
"You want one?" he asked, already splitting the wrap down the middle with his thumbnail.
"You rolling me one?"
"Wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."
"Then yeah."
He started working. His fingers, long, tatted across the knuckles, moved in such an intoxicating way. He broke the weed up, letting it crumble between his fingertips onto the tray, separating stems without even looking. He picked up the wrap and loaded it, tucking and rolling in a smooth motion. There was something about watching him do this. His brow furrowed just slightly, tongue dragging along the edge of the wrap to seal it. Just his tongue. Just the tip of it, running slow across the paper.
You almost moaned at the sight of it.
You shifted on the couch and pulled your eyes away. Behind you, well, behind Sukuna, really, his radio sat on the little bookshelf against the wall, playing low. He had it playing even before Itadori left. Your shocked the baby could even sleep through the music.
Sukuna finished the blunt and set it on the tray. Started rolling a second one.
"That one's yours," he said, nodding at the first.
"Thank you."
"Mhm."
The apartment felt smaller now. Or maybe not smaller, just more... concentrated. With the TV on low volume and the music layered over it, with the kitchen light being the only real light source, everything seemed to shrink inward. Like the room was pulling in on itself, leaving just the couch, just the two of you.
You were sitting on the opposite end of the couch with your back against the armrest, legs stretched out along the cushions. Your toes were maybe a foot from his thigh. You were in your leggings and an oversized crop top that showed a strip of your stomach when you shifted. You could feel your lip gloss still intact, you'd reapplied it while Jin was here out of habit.
Sukuna finished rolling the second blunt and brought it to his lips. He lit it, cheeks hollowing as he took the first pull. Smoke curled from his mouth when he exhaled, and the smell mixed with his cologne in a way that went straight to your head.
He took another pull and his eyes finally found yours. Just landed on you. No particular reason. No lead-up. He was just looking. And you were looking back.
You didn't look away from him and he didn't look away from you and for a few seconds neither of you said anything.
Your foot moved. Barely. Just a small shift of your leg that brought your toes against the side of his thigh. Touching him through the thin fabric of his sweats. You felt the warmth of his skin underneath.
You didn't pull away.
His eyes dropped to where your foot rested against him. Stayed there. Then came back up to your face. That smirk appeared, but different this time. Not the cocky one from earlier. This one was slower. Lazier. His eyelids were low, pupils dark, and the blunt sat between his lips trailing a thin line of smoke.
His free hand came down. Fingers wrapped around your ankle. Just held it. His palm was warm and big, his grip loose but intentional. He just held you there for a second, thumb dragging one slow circle against your ankle bone while he watched your face. Testing. Waiting to see what you'd do.
Your breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. You didn't move away. Didn't say anything. Just looked at him with your lips slightly parted and your heart thumping behind your ribs.
Then he pulled.
One smooth motion. His hand tightened around your ankle and he dragged you toward him across the couch cushions. Your back slid down from the armrest, your body closing the distance between you until your legs were practically in his lap. Your ass was against his thigh. Your legs bent over his.
"Sukuna—"
He took the blunt from his lips and tapped the ash into the tray on the coffee table without looking, eyes still locked on yours. His hand didn't leave your leg. It just moved. From your ankle, up over your calf. Slow. His palm slid over the curve of your shin, the inside of your knee. Fingers tracing along the inside of your thigh through the leggings. Each inch of movement felt like it lasted a full minute. You could feel every single one of his fingertips.
Index finger.
Middle.
Ring finger.
Pinky.
And thumb.
Your chest rose and fell faster than you wanted it to. You tried to play it cool but your body was doing its own thing. Heat was spreading from wherever he touched you, pooling in your lower stomach and between your legs. Your thighs tensed under his hand and he noticed, of course he noticed, and his smirk deepened.
He brought the blunt back to his lips. Inhaled. The cherry glowed bright for a second, then dimmed. He pulled the blunt away and held the smoke in his chest, eyes on you the whole time. His hand was still on your inner thigh, fingertips inches from where your pulse was beating the hardest.
"Open your mouth," he said. Low. Almost a whisper.
You did.
You didn't even think about it. Your lips parted and your chin tilted up and you just opened. For him.
Sukuna leaned in. Close. His face right there, inches from yours. You could see every detail of his face. From he sharp line of his jaw, the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, the way his lashes fanned when he looked down at your lips. His mouth hovered over yours, your lips grazing eachother, and then he exhaled.
The smoke poured from his lips into your mouth. It was addictive. Intoxicating. It was making your head spin and your thighs clench from how sexy and intimate this was. You breathed it in, tasting it, tasting him underneath it. The smoke filled your lungs and you held it there while his eyes stayed on your mouth.
You exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting up between your faces, and neither of you moved back. He was right there. Right fucking there. His nose almost touching yours, his breath on your lips. The blunt was still in his other hand, forgotten, burning down.
"Been needing to do that," he murmured.
"The shotgun?"
His thumb traced a circle on your inner thigh. Higher now. Dangerously high. "Nah. Get you this close. I've been playing for too fucking long."
Your body felt like it was vibrating. Every nerve ending was awake, every sense dialed to maximum. The music was still playing behind him but it sounded far away now, like it was coming from a different room. The only thing that you felt right now was his breath on your skin and his hand on your thigh and the shrinking space between your mouths.
"Then stop playing," you whispered.
You didn't even recognize your own voice. It came out breathy, wanting, different from how you usually sounded around him.
His eyes flickered. Something shifted behind them, something that had been kept locked away, maybe, or held back on purpose. He closed the gap.
His mouth landed on yours and your whole brain went blank. His lips were warm and full and he kissed you like he'd thought about exactly how he wanted to do this. Like he'd planned every angle, every movement. His bottom lip dragged across yours, pulling at your gloss, smearing it, and he tilted his head to deepen it. You felt his tongue trace the seam of your lips and you opened for him again, letting him in.
He tasted like the blunt. Earthy and sweet. His tongue moved against yours, unhurried, licking into your mouth like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. Your hand came up to his jaw on instinct, fingers curling along the bone, pulling him closer. A sound escaped you, and his grip on your thigh tightened in response.
He pulled back just enough to breathe, which wasn't that far away at all. His eyes were barely open, looking at you from under his lashes, and his lips were slick with your gloss.
"Shit," he breathed. "Your lips are fuckin' soft."
You couldn't even form words. You just pulled him back in.
The second kiss was harder. Messier. His hand left your thigh and slid up to your waist, gripping, pulling your body into his. You twisted on the couch until you were half in his lap, your chest against his, your hands fisting the fabric of his tee at his shoulders. He kissed you deep, tongue and teeth, his bottom lip caught between yours, then yours caught between his. He bit down just enough to sting and you gasped into his mouth.
"Mm." The sound he made vibrated against your lips. His other hand, the one that had been holding the blunt, reached blindly for the tray and set it down. Both hands free now. Both hands on you. One on your waist, one sliding down to your ass, palming it through your leggings, squeezing.
"Fuck," you breathed, arching into him.
"Yeah?" His voice was right against your ear now, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below it. "Tell me what you want."
Your fingers dug into his shoulders. "I want you to stop playing with me."
He laughed right into your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, then his lips, open-mouthed, wet, traveled down the column of your throat. Kissing, tasting. His tongue flicked against your pulse point and you full-body shuddered.
"Nah," he said between kisses. "I waited too long for this. I'm taking my fucking time."
His hands gripped your hips and lifted you, effortless, like you weighed nothing, repositioning you so you were fully straddling his lap. Your knees sank into the cushions on either side of his thighs. The new position put you right on top of him and you could feel..oh god, you could feel him.
Through his sweats, through your leggings. He was already hard, the print of him straining against the fabric, and he was big. Like noticeably, ridiculously big. He was so big that it made your eyes go wide and your breath stutter.
His hands settled on your hips and he rocked you forward. Just a little. Just enough to drag you against the length of his clothed dick. The friction sent a zap straight through your core and a moan slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.
"Ahhh-fuck, Kuna."
His jaw clenched. His fingers dug into your hips. "Say that shit again."
You rolled your hips on your own this time, grinding down against him, feeling every inch of him through the layers. "Kuna… shit…"
"Just like that." His head tipped back against the couch and his throat was exposed, the long line of it, the tattoos crawling up the side. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. His eyes were barely open, watching you on top of him, watching your body move. "Look at you. Riding me and I ain't even inside you yet."
Your clit was throbbing.
The friction from your leggings and his sweats wasn't enough, it was too much and not enough at the same time. You could feel how wet you were getting, the slickness building between your folds, starting to seep through the thin fabric of your panties. You ground down harder and a strangled noise came out of him. It was like half a groan,and half a growl. It literally made your pussy clench around nothing.
His hands slid from your hips to your ass. Both palms. He squeezed, hard, spreading your cheeks apart slightly, pulling you tighter against him so you could feel the full imprint of his dick against your center.
"Kuna-mmm-" Your nails raked down the front of his chest through his tee.
He sat up, bringing his face to your neck again, biting down on the spot where your shoulder met your throat. Not gentle. You yelped and your hips bucked and he groaned against your skin.
"Take this shit off," he said, tugging at the hem of your crop top.
You pulled it over your head and tossed it somewhere behind you. Your hair fell around your shoulders and his eyes dropped to your chest. You were wearing a simple black bra, nothing fancy cause you honestly weren't expecting this to happen. But the way he looked at you made you feel like you were wearing something worth millions. His gaze traveled over the swell of your breasts, the s/c of your skin, the way your stomach curved into your waist.
"God damn." He said it under his breath, almost to himself. His hands came up from your ass to your sides, sliding up your bare skin, thumbs tracing the undersides of your breasts through the bra. Your nipples were already stiff, poking against the fabric, and when his thumbs brushed over them you sucked in a breath.
He looked up at your face. Your lips were swollen from kissing, your gloss completely ruined, and your eyes were half-closed. He reached around and unclasped your bra with one hand, like it was nothing, like he'd done it a million times, and you let it slide off your arms.
Your breasts fell free and his whole expression changed. His eyes darkened. His tongue swept across his bottom lip.
"Come here," he said, and before you could move he was already pulling you forward, bringing your chest to his face. His mouth closed around your left nipple and you arched your back, a whimper escaping that you couldn't have held in if you tried.
"Ohhh-mmm-" Your hand flew to the back of his head, fingers gripping the short hair there.
He sucked. Hard. His tongue swirling around the peak before his teeth caught it gently, tugging. Then he switched to the other one, giving it the same treatment. It was wet, sloppy, and noisy. You could hear the sounds his mouth made against your skin and it was doing things to you. Your hips were moving in his lap on their own, grinding against him in slow, desperate circles.
His hand came down on your ass. Not soft. A full slap that cracked through the room and made you jolt forward with a gasp.
"Ah!"
"Keep moving like that," he said, mouth still on your breast. Another slap. Harder. The sting bloomed hot across your skin and mixed with the pleasure until you couldn't separate them. "Wanna feel you on my dick."
"Fuck, daddy-" It slipped out. You didn't plan it. The word just fell from your lips like it belonged there and the reaction was instantaneous. Sukuna's entire body went rigid underneath you. His mouth pulled off your breast and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that made your stomach drop in the best way.
"What'd you call me?"
Your face was on fire but you were too turned on to be embarrassed. You rolled your hips against his print again, feeling him twitch underneath you. "Daddy."
His hand came up to your throat. Not squeezing. Just resting there. His thumb pressed against the hinge of your jaw, tilting your face down to his.
"Again."
"Daddy."
He kissed you so hard your teeth almost clashed. Both his hands went to the waistband of your leggings and started yanking them down over your ass. You had to lift up on your knees to help him get them off, and it turned into this whole thing. Him pulling, you wriggling, the leggings getting caught on your ankles until you kicked them free. You were left in just your panties. Black lace. Already soaked through.
He looked down between your bodies and his jaw tightened. He could see it. The dark spot where you'd been leaking through the fabric, the way the lace clung to you, outlining everything, the shape of your pussy lips, the way they were swollen and puffy from how turned on you were.
"All that for me?" His voice was strained.
"Been like that since you grabbed my ankle."
His thumb hooked into your panties and tugged them to the side. The air hit your bare pussy and you shivered. He looked down at you, really looked, and the sound he made was guttural. Your lips were s/c, pretty, slick and glistening, wetness coating everything. Your clit was swollen, peeking out between your folds.
"Prettiest fucking pussy." His thumb slid through your slit, from bottom to top, collecting wetness. Slow. So fucking slow you thought you might lose your mind. When he reached your clit he circled it once and your thighs trembled on either side of him.
"Ohhh my god-please-"
"Please what?" He circled your clit again. Barely any pressure. Enough to make you feel it but not enough to satisfy anything. "Use your words, baby."
"Touch me. Fuck...please just touch me-"
"I am touching you."
You whined. Literally whined like a brat and he grinned before he pushed two fingers inside you without warning.
"AHHH- shit!" Your hands slammed down on his shoulders and your back arched. His fingers were long and they went deep, curling upward on the first stroke, pressing against that spot like he already knew exactly where it was.
"There she is," he murmured, watching your face twist. "That's what you wanted, huh?"
His fingers pumped in and out. Slow but forceful. Each thrust made a wet, lewd sound that filled the room
Your pussy was squelching, slick, the sight was fucking obscene. You could hear how wet you were and it made your face burn.
"Listen to that shit." He pulled his fingers almost all the way out and pushed them back in. The noise was filthy. "This pussy is soaked. Been thinking about me, haven't you?"
"Y-yes—fuck—yesss—"
"How long?"
You could barely think. His thumb found your clit again, pressing and circling while his fingers worked inside you. Your walls were clenching around him, pulling him deeper. "Long...a long time- mmm-"
"How. Long." Each word punctuated with a curl of his fingers.
"Years—oh shit—fucking years, Kuna—AHHH—"
His free hand slapped your ass again and the combination of the slap, his fingers, and his thumb on your clit, sent a wave through you that made your vision blur. You were riding his hand now, hips rocking, chasing it, not caring how you looked or sounded.
"That's right. Ride daddy's fingers. Just like that." His voice was low, rough, and right in your ear. "Feel how tight this shit is? How am I gonna fit?"
The mention of his size, the implication of what was coming, made you clench so hard around his fingers that he groaned.
"Fuck, baby. You hear yourself right now? This pussy is talking."
She was.
Every stroke of his fingers produced another wet, sloppy sound. Your juices were running down his hand, dripping onto his grey sweats, leaving a dark spot on the fabric. You couldn't even be embarrassed about it. You were too far gone.
He pulled his fingers out and you almost cried at the emptiness. He held them up between your faces, his index and middle finger coated and shiny, strings of wetness connecting them when he spread them apart.
"Open."
You opened your mouth and he slid both fingers onto your tongue. You tasted yourself and sucked his fingers clean while looking directly into his eyes. His chest rose sharply. His dick twitched against your bare pussy and you both felt it, the heat of him against your exposed, swollen lips.
"You're nasty," he said, pulling his fingers from your mouth. But the way he said it wasn't an insult.
"Put it in me." You weren't asking. Your hands went to the waistband of his sweats and started pulling them down. He lifted his hips to help and when his dick sprang free, you felt your throat go dry.
Jesus Christ.
He was big. Not just big, this man was gifted in a way that should be studied. Long, impossibly girthy, with a slight upward curve. The head was dark and swollen, already leaking. Veins ran along the underside and light hair above it. Your hand barely wrapped around it when you gripped the base and he hissed through his teeth.
"Shit—"
"How the fuck is this gonna fit?" You stroked him, your small hand moving up his length, thumb swiping over the tip to spread the pre-cum. He was so warm in your palm. Pulsing too.
You had that effect on him. Just you.
"We're gonna make it fit."
He pulled your panties to the side again and gripped his dick, dragging the tip through your slit. Up and down, coating himself in your wetness, nudging against your clit on every pass. You bit your bottom lip so hard you thought you'd break through.
"Mmm—just put it in—"
"Nah. I told you." He notched the head at your entrance, pushing just barely. Just the tip. Stretching you open around the widest part. "I'm taking my time."
Your mouth fell open in a silent moan. He pushed in another inch and the stretch was, god, it was a lot. Your walls were fighting to accommodate him, clenching and releasing, and you could feel every ridge, every vein, you thought you were gonna cum right then and there.
"Relax for me." His hand came up to cup your face. Thumb stroking your cheek. "Look at me, baby. Right here."
You met his eyes and he pushed in further. Inch by slow inch, filling you so good that it made your toes curl against the couch cushions. Your mouth hung open, small breaths and whimpers falling out of you with every bit he gave you.
"Oh—oh fuck—ohhh my god, Kuna—you're so fucking big—"
"Take it." His voice was strained. The muscle in his jaw was ticking. He was holding back, you could tell, trying not to just slam into you. "You can take it, baby. Almost there."
When he bottomed out, you both went still. You were sitting fully in his lap with every inch of him buried inside you and you felt so full you couldn't breathe. Your walls were stretched impossibly tight around him, fluttering, adjusting. You could feel him in your stomach, or at least it felt like it.
"Fuck," you whimpered. "Fuck fuck fuck."
"Yeah." His forehead dropped against yours. His breath was ragged. "I know."
You sat like that for a moment. Just breathing. Feeling each other. Then you rolled your hips. Tiny, experimental. And the moan that ripped out of you was embarrassing.
"OHHH—daddy—"
"Mmm—shit..." His hands locked on your hips and he guided your movement. Slow rolls, back and forth, his dick dragging against your walls with every motion. The friction was indescribable. You were so wet that each stroke was smooth despite how tight the fit was, and the sound, god, the sound of your pussy taking him was pornographic.
Wet. Sloppy. Loud.
"You hear that?" He gripped your ass and pulled you forward hard, grinding you down on him. "That's all you, baby. This pussy is creaming on me already."
You looked down between your bodies and sure enough a ring of white was forming at the base of his dick, your cream coating him every time you rose up. It was filthy. It was hot.
You started bouncing. Lifting yourself up on your knees and dropping back down, taking him deep every time. The slap of skin was obscene as your ass was hitting his thighs, the wet sucking sound of your pussy gripping him, and the creak of the couch under the force of your movement.
"AH—AH—AHHH—fuck—daddy—mmmm—" Your moans were out of control. You couldn't keep them in. Every downstroke hit something inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Sukuna's head fell back against the couch. His abs were tight under his tee, his hands bruising your hips as he helped you bounce. "Ride that shit. Just like that—fuck—this pussy is so goddamn tight-"
He sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around your waist, and flipped you. Your back hit the couch and he was on top of you, between your legs, still buried inside. The new angle made him sink even deeper and you choked on a moan.
"OHHH—"
He didn't give you time to adjust. He pulled back and drove into you,hard, and your whole body jerked up the couch.
"FUCK!"
"Yeah?" He pulled back and slammed in again. The sound was filthy. "That's what you wanted?"
"Yes—yes—oh my god yes—"
He started fucking you.
No other word for it. Deep, rough strokes that had the couch rocking, had your tits bouncing, had your hair splayed across the cushion while you grabbed at anything you could. You grabbed his arms, his shirt, even the couch itself.
His hand came up to your throat again. This time he squeezed. Just enough to make everything sharper. You could feel every inch of pleasure. You felt the fullness of his dick and the sound of his hips snapping against yours.
"Look at me," he growled. "Don't close them eyes."
You forced them open. His face was right above yours, sweat beading at his temples, and the look in his eyes was feral. There was no other word. He was watching your face crumble with every thrust and getting off on it.
Every tear.
Every moan.
Every flutter of your eyelashes.
"You look so pretty taking this dick." He thrust harder and you screamed. Literally screamed. "Let the whole building hear you. Who this pussy belong to?
"AHHH—DADDY—OH MY GOD—YOU KUNA!"
He slapped your thigh. Hard. Then grabbed behind your knee and pushed your leg up toward your chest, folding you, opening you wider. The angle changed and suddenly he was hitting your g-spot on every single stroke and you lost it.
"I'm—I'm gonna—KUNA—I'm gonna cum—"
"Cum on this dick." He didn't slow down. If anything he went harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the entire apartment. His thumb found your clit and rubbed frantic circles. "Give it to me."
It hit you like a freight train. Your whole body locked up, your back arched off the couch, thighs shaking, walls clamping down on him so hard he grunted through his teeth. You came with a scream that didn't even sound like you, your pussy pulsing and gushing around him, making the wettest, sloppiest sounds as he kept pumping through your orgasm.
"Ohhh fuuuuck—that's it—fuck—" He was close. You could feel it in the way his strokes got sloppy, the way his rhythm faltered. His face dropped into your neck and his hips slammed into you three more times, before he buried himself deep and came with a groan that vibrated through your entire body.
"Fuuuck—" The word dragged out of him, broken and raw.
You both lay there. Heaving. Drenched in sweat. The TV was still on. The music was still playing. The kitchen light still glowed warm and golden.
Sukuna's body was draped over yours, his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His arms were on either side of your head. Your legs were still wrapped around him and he was still inside you, softening now but neither of you moved to separate.
Your hand came up and ran along the back of his neck. His skin was damp. He made a small sound, content, almost, and nuzzled deeper into your throat.
"Kuna," you whispered.
"Mm."
"That blunt is still burning on the tray."
A beat of silence. Then he laughed. He lifted his head just enough to look over at the coffee table, where the blunt he'd set down earlier had indeed burned down to a nub, ash scattered across the wooden tray.
"Shit." He looked back at you. His eyes were soft. Sleepy. That usual sharpness gone, replaced by something you'd never seen on him before. Devotion. "That's your fault."
"How is that my fault?"
"You put your foot on my leg."
You grinned. "And you grabbed my ankle."
He kissed your forehead. Then your nose. Then your lips, lazy, slow, tasting like weed and you.
"Roll another one?" you murmured against his mouth.
"Give me five minutes." He dropped his head back into your neck. "I can't feel my legs."
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his broad back, your nails tracing light lines over his tattoos through his tee. The music played on as you lifted your head to ask a question. "So what are we now, Kuna?" The light from the kitchen cast long, golden shadows across the living room floor as he closed his eyes, sighing. "Together. Problem?"
"Not at all."
And somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized that six years of pretending had just come crashing to an end on this man's couch.
