Bound incubus!sukuna x f!reader
Summary: a story in which the demon that gets sent to you ends up being more charming than he is scary, resulting in a strange bond that makes you question your sanity.
Content/Warnings: explicit smut, profanity, porn w/ plot, some angst/comfort, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, aphrodisiacs (sukuna can fill the air w/ it), oddly wholesome
Notes: there was this one scene that ended up being pretty cute, so i just gave them a happy ending LMAO it's more on the fantasy side of things. anyways, enjoy
You never understood the drama between neighbors until you had a horror story of your own.
Quite literally.
Living in the apartment right under Nishimiya’s was hell. The worst being her stomping throughout her apartment. You’ve baked her cookies, you've tried talking to her, you’ve tried yelling at her— just 10 minutes ago you were on a stepping stool, beating on the ceiling with a broom like a psychopath.
And what does the little brat do? She stomps back, which was enough to pause your morning and confront her. Again.
“Nishimiya!” You call out for the second time, incessantly knock on her door. “I can hear you in there, can you just please answer the door. I can’t take this anymore!”
The door eventually swings open and you're met with the little brats usual scowl, acting as if she were the one that has been ripped out of her sleep, consistently, for nearly 2 months now. It smells like she’s been burning herbs or something all morning.
“God– what is it now?” She groans.
“I really need you to quit stomping around so much in the morning– I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
“Seriously?” She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “This is what you came to me for?”
“Yes! This is insane. Not even the last tenant before you made this much noise!”
“Well get over it,” She responds rudely. “You’re not the only one who pays to live here.”
And with that, she slams the door in your face. You can hear her mumbling something on the other side of the door, and you’re pretty sure she called you a bitch.
What you didn’t see was her walking up to the small altar in the corner of her living room, picking up one of the older books that’s been passed down to her. And by old, that thing’s ancient. Pages and pages filled with spells written in latin, along with extra notes scribbled in them that were just as faded and the original print itself.
“I’ll give you something to complain about.”
Except, for as talented as she is, she’s still a baby witch, and the chill that ran down her spine immediately after doing her spell made her realize she had no idea what she had sent you.
—
You’ve been running for hours. Out of breath. Legs heavy. No matter how fast or how far you think you’ve gotten from him, he’s constantly 2 steps behind you.
What's worse is you just know he would’ve caught you already if he wanted. But what he truly wants is this— watching you run.
It’s in that cruel, menacing laugh of his, hearing the pure enjoyment rumbling out of him as he watches you scream and cry for your life— trying so damn hard to lose him. Yet in the end, he always ends up right in your ear.
“Got you.”
It’s been weeks since the night terrors have started. Every morning’s the same, waking up terrified and drenched in your own sweat, accompanied by the irritating noise of Nishimiya’s footsteps. Except now you’re too busy feeling unsettled in the mornings to even care about them.
Life’s been off. The apartment’s been colder. Quieter. Nothing helps. Not even opening all the windows and balcony doors to let some fresh air in gets rid of the dread that manages to cling to each and every corner of your space.
Something watches you.
You’re not the superstitious kind, but you can just feel something’s there. Looming over you. Following you. Messing with you. One minute you're tearing apart your living room, trying to look for the T.V remote, the next you’re opening one of your cabinets to find it placed dead center on a stack of plates.
You walk away from the microwave to go do something, and when you come back, it’s paused, even though you know you hit start. You even watched it the first 30 seconds of warming up.
Ignoring it didn’t work. All that did was escalate things. It went from chasing you in your dreams to pining you to your bed, murmuring the craziest shit in the shell of your ear.
“Did you miss me, Princess?”
“Do you really think pretending I’m not here will make me go away?”
“Come on, just talk to me— I don’t bite.”
“Wow. Not even a ‘leave me alone’ or ‘fuck you’. How about this, give me 5 minutes and I’ll tell you where I hid your favorite panties.”
You’re ashamed to say that last one is what broke your silent streak.
Over the next few weeks, you learn some things about him. He is in fact a demon— something he actually got incredibly offended at, by the way.
He preferred the term incubus.
He also dislikes being called a sex demon, something you called him because you wanted to offend him some more, thinking maybe that would make him leave.
It didn’t. He just gave you another night terror. One that had an extra kick to it— making you swim from him in the murkiest water you’ve ever seen, instead of the usual drill, chasing you through the woods.
He thought it was hilarious.
You never called him that again.
Unfortunately, being a literal demon isn’t the worst part about him. It’s the fact that he never shuts up. He goes back and forth between flirting with you and ragebaiting you, all fucking day. You’ve tried to get rid of him. You’ve even gone back to Nishimiya and begged her to remove whatever she put on you.
At first she denied summoning him, acting like she didn’t know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until a moment of weakness, when you genuinely broke down in front of her, did she attempt to cut whatever string it was that tied him to you.
Except it wasn’t a string that tied him to you, it was more like a chain with how he threatened to curse her entire family for eternity if she went through with it.
Now she won’t even look at you, let alone speak to you. The stomping even came to an end, and you wish you could be happy about it, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when it traded itself for another problem that was substantially worse..
You never knew what it felt like to feel truly defeated until that day. It wasn’t even Nishimiya who told you that the deal was off. It was him. Laughing in your room at 1:00 am, telling you how you should’ve just made a deal with him.
That was a hard pass. You’ve never even seen him. It didn’t even make sense, you were trying to get rid of him, not get more involved.
It wasn’t just your day that was ruined, it was your entire week. Work did a number on you, which just added to all of the problems you already had from your apartment. The weekend went by way too short, the following Monday went by way too long, and by the time you got home, you wanted to scream out into the world until your lungs ruptured.
Your final straw was finding the remote in the kitchen cabinet.
Again.
“It’s a remote. Why are you so obsessed with it?!” you snapped at literally nobody, because the thing you had a problem with wasn’t even visible.
You didn’t bother putting the remote back where it belonged. You threw it at the couch, and ended up getting mad that it didn’t slip out of your hand mid throw, hit the wall, and break into a million pieces. The deep breath you took before walking back to the kitchen didn’t help your mood at all either.
Had it been a good day, you definitely would’ve been terrified of the reflection you saw on the glassdoor of your microwave.
But on a bad day…
“Oh for fucks sake— what is the point in hiding if you’re just gonna stand there and wait for me to catch you?! You want to be seen so bad!! Just fucking show yourself already!”
The change in the air was instant. You found yourself instantly regretting blowing up on the ominous shadow figure that tormented you for a living. But, you made your bed, so you stayed and faced whatever was lingering in the room.
It wasn’t as startling as you thought it’d be. He slowly materialized into the room until he was solid, like everything else around him. The only thing that was unnerving about it was having a complete stranger in your home.
“Happy?” he asks, as if he were fed up with your shit.
You don’t answer at first. You couldn’t. And it’s not like you’re scared, you’re just… shocked. In your head, he was some disgusting, slimy monster with shark teeth— he’s not. He’s tall and nothing but pure muscle, covered in thick tattoos. Pink hair, striking red eyes, and god, his face. You stared at it for longer than you should have.
“...I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself,” you end up saying, silently kicking yourself for how apologetic you sounded.
“So you just blurt out a bunch of shit when you’re mad without thinking?” he condescendingly asks, before mouthing ‘wow’ to himself.
“I– I’m in my house right now,” you sputter, in complete disbelief over how judgemental he is. “You shouldn’t even be here!”
“Good thing laws don’t apply to me,” he responds arrogantly, then changes the subject. “You should be more careful with what you invite to your space.”
“Last time I checked it was you who chose to start haunting me.”
“Last time I checked, it was blondie who summoned me.” He continued to argue with you as he made himself at home, taking a seat on the couch like he’s done a million times before.
“A fucking demon of all things,” you mumble to yourself, forgetting he didn’t like to be called that in the process.
He gives you the side eye, but you’re too busy being pissed off at Nishimiya all over again to even notice, so he lets it slide. “It’s Sukuna, by the way.”
“What?”
“My name?” he responds as if you're stupid, clearly not too fond of repeating himself even though you don’t remember asking for it in the first place.
“Oh.”
“Mhm. You should say it,” he smirks.
You weren’t sure if it was some form of power play or if he was just some horny freak that loved hearing his own name. Either way, you don’t say his name for him.
“So remind me again why you won’t let Bigfoot undo her little spell,” you cut to chase, not bothering to explain who that is. He should already know who she is by now given how much you’ve complained about her by yourself. “What are you even getting out of this?”
“Entertainment,” he casually says with a shrug.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I love watching people have breakdowns after work.” The little dig earns him a glare. “Also, Bigfoot’s not strong enough to reverse the spell she did. Only reason she was able to summon me was because I let her,” he mentions, clearly looking to continue the conversation.
You find yourself processing that for longer than you should, wondering if you even heard him correctly. “Can I ask why you let her summon you and then send you to someone else's home?”
“I dunno. Guess I just wanted to see what would happen.”
He talks about it like it’s some experiment and you’re reminded of how unlucky you are to be one of the casualties in it.
“Sounds like you have a lot of power, or whatever,” you murmur, crossing your arms and taking a seat on the couch armrest. “You can’t just go?”
“I can,” he says, as if you were undermining him. All that goes through your head is how messed up his priorities must be if that's something he gets defensive over. “Kinda bound myself to you though, so I’d rather not.”
You felt the blood drain from your face.
Then it got worse.
He wouldn’t even fully explain what a binding was. You only know he did it because he liked how quiet your apartment was. No spouse or children. No pets either. And yes, he does leave to go “feed” and fuck with peoples lives, he just does that while you’re at work.
You suggested he could go do that while you’re home, so he doesn’t bother you, and he refused— without bothering to explain, again.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just go do all that when I’m home,” you continue to argue with him, but no amount of explaining will make him budge— not until you accused him of wanting something from you.
“Well?” you say impatiently, mentally preparing yourself to listen to him list a bunch of things.
He didn’t have to think twice. “We could fuc—“
You hold a hand out, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence. “Something that doesn’t have anything to do with my mind, body, or soul.”
“Fine.” He clicks his tongue, looking at you like you had just ruined all his fun. “I want you to acknowledge me— and not just when you’re running through an imaginary forest, acting like you’re about to die or something. I want it when you’re awake, like right now.”
Your jaw really shouldn’t be on the floor right now. He’s a fucking demon, of course he’d be this insensitive to other peoples struggles.
“Did you really just invalidate weeks worth of nightmares and sleep deprivation?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Did you blatantly ignore me for weeks?” he counters, proving that he really did have an answer for everything.
“I didn’t choose this,” you remind him.
“And that’s no one else's fault but bigfoots,” he redirects the blame, trying to make it seem like you two were on the same team or something, after spending weeks chipping away at your sanity, all in the name of entertainment.
It’s un-fucking-believable. You end up taking a deep breath, trying to remember what you were even talking about in the first place. Not to mention that you needed to calm down. Something about him sent your blood pressure levels skyrocketing.
You guess one good thing about him was that he didn’t rush you or try to fill the silence, something you probably would’ve thanked him for had it been something you noticed way sooner.
“So you want acknowledgement?” you ask in a more relaxed tone, trying to meet the guy half way.
He noticed that, along with how tired you looked, and started to feel a little bad. Enough to try to match your energy at least. “Mhm. In return, no more night terrors.”
You wanted nothing more. But you also weren’t in the mood to get your hopes up with this guy. “...Didn’t you just say that you found stuff like that entertaining?"
“Oh, I do,” he says reassuringly. “You just don’t have the same amount of fear as you used to. You don’t run as fast anymore either. Takes the fun out of it.”
Well. At least he stays true to himself.
“I see.” You nod, acting as if you totally understood where he was coming from.
You were a shitty actress though, and realized he wasn’t going to let you get away with the dry tone when you saw the little smile on his face.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like being chased a little.”
The laugh that came out of you was the kind an overworked employee gives their boss the day after they've started applying for new jobs.
“I really didn’t.”
With how crazy that laugh was, he believed you. He also looked at the clock, hoping it was an appropriate time for someone to sleep. You needed it.
“Nine’s is a good time to go to bed, no?” he casually asks, but you knew what he was doing.
It was a relief, honestly. “It is. I think I might just sleep early.” You probably looked a little rude getting up as fast as you did, but you were starting to feel crazy just talking to him. A full night’s rest might fix that, but if it doesn’t, at least you’ll actually be rested. “So you just… want me to say hi whenever I see you?”
“No.” He doesn’t bother to hide how much he hated the idea. “Just stop acting like I don’t exist.”
“Ok.” Easy enough. He’ll probably be invisible or whatever most of the time anyways, so it wouldn’t be an issue. Right before you walk away, you ask one last question. “You won’t be whispering weird things to me anymore either, right?”
He snorts, “you think that’s as bad as the night terrors?”
There’s a bit of hesitation on your end when you realize he thinks you’re joking. It’s not until you stop and give him a concerned look when he realizes you’re dead serious.
“I do… that’s why I was wondering if those will come to an end, too.” It sounded so awkward coming out of you. You hoped Sukuna would say something in return that would smooth it out, but he made it ten times worse. It was a yes or no question, he didn’t have to drag the time out for as long as he did.
It’s not until you decide to show signs of your growing impatience through an exasperated sigh when he finally says something.
“Only if you say my name.”
“That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want.” He wasn’t smug about it this time, if anything he sounded awfully sincere. “Let me hear you say it once and I’ll leave your sleep alone.”
Even if he didn’t have the smirk he had on earlier, you were still reluctant to say it. It’s the second time he’s asked in under an hour. “Why do you want me to say it so bad though?”
“You said you’d acknowledge me more, didn’t you?”
“Yeah...”
“Then say it for me.”
—
He drove you insane at first.
That was the goal, to annoy you so much that you’d break and beg him to stop. Seeing people in mental agony was just something he liked. Not that he ever does, he just brings up what you could do to get him to stop.
He pitches it like it’s a sale. From romanticizing what he does, to promising that he’d make you feel really good, he never ran out of reasons as to why you should just give into him. You remember staring at him for a few seconds. Dumbfounded and struggling to wrap your head around what just came out of his mouth.
“I’m not going to let you feed from me.”
His pause was much longer. Not that the rejection left him offended or anything. It was worse, he was confused. Concerned, even— looking at you like there was genuinely something wrong with you.
“You—” He paused again, scratching the back of his head as a little laugh escaped him, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m not letting you feed from me,” you repeated yourself, sounding more irritated that time around. “Do you not realize how draining it is to be bound to someone? Let me enjoy what’s left of my sanity.”
All he hears is you complaining about having to be around him and scoffs. He wasn’t that bad to be around.
“It doesn't even work like that.”
“No?” You turn and ask, getting his hopes up for a moment, thinking you’d give him a chance to explain. Then you let out a disappointed sigh. “Actually— don’t even answer that.”
He dropped the subject, but that wasn’t the end of it.
But it didn’t bother you as much as it should’ve. It probably would’ve if he had stayed more mysterious, hiding in the shadows and all. But not now. No longer the unnerving monster in your dream, he was your annoying, unwanted roommate.
And maybe that’s where you fucked up— you stopped seeing him as the boogeyman. Now he’s just… there. He was wanted too. You grew to enjoy having him around.
Even when he’d randomly pop up outside of your apartment.
“Another bag of apples?” He begins to scold you in the middle of the grocery store. Nobody can hear or see him, just you. “Just go grab 2 or 3 of them. You’ve already wasted the last 2 bags.”
An irritated sigh leaves your lips as you set them down. You hated whenever he was right.
“Everyone’s gonna think you’re a brat if you keep pouting like that.”
No, they’re actually gonna think you’re psychotic for the way you’ll sometimes murmur and laugh to yourself. And for all the times you’ve looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with nothing. You could tell them who you were talking to, but the ones who would believe you would be healthcare workers, but they’d probably start asking if you’ve been feeling like someone's been out to get you on most days.
“The coffee you get is on sale by the way,” he mentions, trailing right behind you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to be nice and all, but it never usually gets you anywhere.
“You look like a freak whispering to yourself like that.”
“Fuck off.”
“Arguing with yourself makes you look even worse.” He laughs at his own little joke, his favorite part was that nobody else could hear him except for you.
There were the occasional, and gifted, individuals out there who could see him. It’s usually the ones that look at you like you're walking around with a machete in public. You can’t really blame them, he looks out of place in grocery stores and coffee shops.
It must be odd to see him trail behind you, but it’s mainly you getting judged at that point. I mean, come on. There surely must be something wrong with you if you choose to be around him.
Do you not have any real friends?
The ones that your cashier can see. The ones that you can talk to as you set your produce down on the conveyor belt. The ones you can turn to and ask for spare change if you want to hold on to an extra bill.
“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” the said cashier asks.
You smile and say, “yeah.”
She’ll never know how hard it was for you to keep a straight face when Sukuna started to mess with you, muttering, “she never does,” in your ear, acting as if he was tired of you making people think you had your life together.
Wouldn’t he still count since it was all meant to put a smile on you?
Shouldn’t that be enough?
—
He thought you were dead once.
Between the way he felt about you and the fact that he thought human beings were weak, it could’ve been an overreaction, but that didn’t matter. He still felt it— all of that dread, just tearing through his chest.
It started off as a small cold and falling asleep on the couch. Then the next couple days all morphed into one big, blurry memory. The only things you remembered were that you were cold and tired.
So fucking tired.
Not even falling off the damn couch woke you up. It was Sukuna, who had been shaking you for what felt like forever for him, that finally pulled a mumble out of you. The only reason why you hadn’t woken up sooner was because he wasn’t trying to give you whiplash.
He was getting there though.
“Hey.” His voice faded in and out at first, but you heard the desperation. The anger. “Fucking get up already— Hey!”
You eventually whined. Had the nerve to be all pouty, and that pissed him off, but that was better than whatever he was just a minute ago. He didn’t say anything at first, just tried to catch his breath.
“Scared the shit out of me.” His chest continued to rise and fall, in disbelief over how bad that was. How bad he felt. The way he was starting to fucking lose it.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyes not even open.
“You,” he scoffed, still holding on to your upper half. “Thought your dumbass fell and hit your head.”
“M’fine— just cold,” you mumbled, barely registering the ache in your bones. Or how worried he was. “Think I’m sick.”
“No shit,” he snapped, then continued to curse under his breath as he scooped you up into his arms.
You tried arguing something, but the words just came out all groggy and incoherent, and were met with silence as he carried you back into your room. The only time you weren’t was when he heard a little, “so mean,” but it was just to laugh.
There was only one blanket on your bed when he finally set you down. The rest were still in your living room. He was back before you even realized he left and soon had all of them layered on top of you, which wasn’t enough apparently since the shivering didn’t come to a complete stop.
“Still cold?”
“No.”
“You’re still shivering.”
No answer. He didn’t care to pull one out of you either, and decided to just get in bed with you. He thought there’d be some resistance when he pulled you on top of him, but you practically clung to him and tucked your face into the crook of his neck.
“Better?”
You let out a hum, nodding against him. It wasn’t weird. It didn’t feel wrong. Not even when he wrapped his arms around you and slowly rubbed your back. The shivering stopped shortly after, letting you finally relax against him.
“Sukuna?”
His name sounded so sweet coming from you. He almost entertained it, especially when you never ask for him like that. A palm circled over your back to show he was still okay with how you two were laying.
And then he decided he was fine with never knowing what you were going to say, especially with how delirious you were earlier.
“Go to sleep.”
You two don’t talk about that day, even when things between you were normal after.
There wasn’t any change, no weird tension. You were still comfortable around him, he still acted his usual way around you. It’s just not something you two talk about.
That’s just how it went when things that were out of the ordinary happened, which started happening a lot.
Like that one time you learned he can sense when people are “in need”.
It drove him up the wall. He was quick with you at first, harsher than usual, up until he couldn’t take it anymore and through an exhausted sigh, said, “you gotta take care of that.”
You froze and turned to see him running a hand down his face, looking incredibly pained. “Take care of what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he groaned, as if he were over you playing dumb.
A conversation that ended with your back hitting your mattress and his head finding itself in between your thighs. You were falling apart just seconds after burying his face in your cunt like he was fucking starving. You were a sobbing mess— knees pinned to your chest, squirming under him as he continued to obscenely eat you out.
“Oh my god–” you whined, feeling the grip on the backs of your thighs grow tighter, “Sukuna— f-fuck–”
“That’s it— keep crying my name like that,” he groaned against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
As if he didn’t already know from the labored breathing or the way your thighs trembled under his hold. Or the way your back arched off the bed whenever he’d suck your clit. He was shameless in the way he just wanted to make you cum over and over again.
You’re still surprised at how things went back to normal after something so intense, but it did. For the most part.
You thought about it more than you should. There were times where you’d even be overcome with guilt— it was something so wrong yet it felt so good.
You never brought it up.
He never tried again.
Sometimes you wonder if it’s because he knew that’s how you felt, and that he didn’t want to be told his existence was wrong again. It was easy for you to tell him that in the beginning, but then you went and wove him into your reality. Now you catch yourself before mentioning him when people ask how your life has been— every single time.
You remind yourself he’s not real.
Then you go home and forget all over again.
—
You stopped remembering your dreams after Sukuna stopped the night terrors. It’s something you don’t bring up, and chalk it up to being some sort of side effect. You don’t even know if you have them anymore, which was fine— can’t be a problem if it didn’t actually exist.
Until it started to seep into reality.
You started to feel off in the mornings. Unusually warm, feeling most of the heat in your cheeks. Your heart would be pounding in your chest, yet not one anxious thought in your head. You felt out of place, disoriented— like someone rearranged your brain in your sleep without telling you.
It went downhill fast.
One morning turned into several, feeling more feverish than the day before. Your breaking point was waking up in a pool of your own slick one morning— feeling so needy that it hurt, but too sensitive to move, leaving you with no other choice but to wait for it to pass.
You wanted to cry, but then Sukuna decided that he was going to appear at the worst time ever, so you sucked it up.
You had a feeling that whatever was happening to you was his fault, you just had no way to prove it. You didn’t want to prove it either. Knowing how smug he’d be from seeing how pathetic you look right now, talking to him at all was the last thing you wanted to do.
Instead of acknowledging him, you turn away— curling up and holding a pillow.
He lets out a laugh, then appears right back in front of you, laying on the empty side of bed while propping himself up with an elbow.
“Rough morning?” he asks rather innocently, pretending to care as he eyes traced over your body.
“Fuck off.”
“Rude,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s no way to talk to a concerned friend.”
“Not when the said friend is at fault,” you murmur back.
“That’s quite an accusation.” He lets out a low laugh, leaving you even more suspicious of him. “And what did I do exactly?”
“You got me sick with something.” The complaint ends up coming out as a whine, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into, avoiding looking at him completely.
“Did I now?”
“Mhm.”
“We both know you’re not sick, princess. Yeah, your skin’s feeling all hot right now, but let’s not act like you haven’t spent the whole morning squeezing your thighs together,” he smirks at the way your eyes widen, reaching forward to run the back of his finger down your cheek. “Kinda hate to break it to ‘ya, but a lot of this is you.”
“What does that even mean?” As irritated as you are at the moment, you just sound like you want to cry, which was fair with how vague his answer was.
He takes a moment to come up with an explanation, one that would make you less mad at him since he did have part in it. Trying to find another way to say ‘I planted the tiniest idea in your head and you made it so much fucking worse’, but also wanting it to make enough sense so you don’t ask a bunch of questions.
He’s really not in the mood for that right now.
“I got bored and entered one of your dreams— nothing crazy. Just wanted to say hi, fuck with you a little bit,” he starts to admit, and to your surprise, you actually believe him. “But then you went and made it weird after you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me.”
“I did not,” you finally look at him, but it’s a glare.
He looks you dead in the eyes. “You did.”
To his surprise, you didn’t try to argue with him on it. You seemed too worried about your little problem.
Two things come to mind— you must have it really bad right now if you’re too tired to have an attitude, and that there’s probably a lot that he can get away with saying to you right now, so it’s probably best to tell the truth now.
Even though it was really fucking hard.
“Anyways, you were being really sweet. Like really fucking sweet. So I thought, ‘this is new, I’ll stick around for a little longer,’ so I did.”
You don’t react to that much either aside from an eye roll, so he goes on to tell you more.
“You were being all giggly and shit— talking about… whatever you were talking about. I just sat there and listened. You were sitting on my lap by the way,” he casually adds, figuring it wouldn’t be the truth if he left out little details like that. You’re looking at him like he’s a dumbass for letting that happen, and in hindsight, he absolutely was. “You were super touchy too, like rubbing on my chest and kissing on my neck—”
You cut him off, “what the fuck?”
“I thought the same thing,” he says in defense, acting just as apalled as you. It doesn’t do much.
“Why would you let that happen?!”
Did you not just hear him? He was having the time of his fucking life in there. He doesn’t say that though, and instead points at you. “It was your dream. I can’t control what you do in there.”
You're massaging the side of your temple at this point, more disappointed than embarrassed, hoping that's the worst of it.
“Anyways, I ended saying a couple things to you and all hell broke loose from there.”
That immediately makes your stomach drop. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. He knows he fucked up, it’s practically written all over his face. “...what did you say to me?”
Apparently he wasn’t thinking straight, and ended up out-slutting you by talking about all the things he wanted to do to you. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he stopped at that, but he didn’t, and accidentally sealed the deal by asking, “I bet you’d like that, huh?”
And you said yes, like a dumbass.
It didn’t just plant the idea in your head either. He was so descriptive with his words that it also ended up putting an image of you two fucking in your head, and it’s been playing over and over again in your subconscious ever since.
That really wasn’t his intention. He brushed it off at first, thinking it wasn’t going to do much— he was wrong.
It was so fucking bad.
It wasn’t just you that got affected, it got him too. He has been going through it. There’s a part of you that likes the idea a little too much and it keeps reaching out and pulling at him. You weren’t doing it on purpose, you didn’t even know, so he fights it. Every time you tug at his senses, he ignores it. It’s the worst when you’re asleep, hence the issues you’ve been waking up with.
“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” As expected, you were annoyed. Not fuming though, which came as a surprise to him.
“It was a mistake,” he swears, holding off on saying that it was more your fault than his. He did not expect you to think about his dick this much.
“Can you reverse it or something?”
He snorts at the question and it almost sends you spiraling. It wasn’t because he found it funny, but because he’s already tried. It usually works in most cases, just not this one, because whether you want to believe it or not, you really like him.
“You can’t, but it’ll wear off over time.” Not that he’s planning on letting it fully wear off on its own, he’s reversing it the moment it starts to weaken.
“So I just have to suffer through this until then?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he grumbles, trying to hide the irritation he suddenly felt. It wouldn’t be that bad if there was some part of you that wanted him, yet you continue to ignore it— your thoughts and desires, even your fears.
He knows all about your fears.
He knows how you stay up sometimes, questioning your own sanity, if you’re just crazy and he’s one of the symptoms. That you think of him as the imaginary friend and how you fucking hate that. You hate how you can’t tell others about him too. He sees the way you look at him, he already knows how much you wish he was real. Maybe then you’d stop feeling guilty for choosing him over going out.
He understands and knows he doesn’t have the right to be mad, but he’s getting there from having to fight off the urges you send to him.
“Staying away from each other would probably work.”
It catches you off guard.
You weren’t expecting it to hit you as hard as it did. You find yourself having to pretend like it didn’t after realizing he wasn’t taking it back.
He sees the hesitation in your face. The confusion. The biggest of all was the disappointment— like you’re wondering why did he have to go and say that.
He doesn’t know why, but still, he doesn’t take it back. You never got to have a say when he bound himself to you, maybe one day you’ll realize this was him apologizing in the only way he knew he could by giving you the choice.
“How much would it help?”
“Enough. You wouldn’t be spending your entire morning in bed,” he says, trying to sound optimistic about it. Not that it works. He keeps trying to meet your eyes and there’s a dull look in them telling him that you’ve mostly left by now— an attempt to protect what he hasn’t hurt in the last 5 minutes.
There was a lump in your throat and the only way to get rid of it was to look past him.
The choice was obvious, but you still think about it harder than you should. Trying to find a way to agree with him. Looking for reasons to justify an answer that was already right. It was logical.
You somehow ended up in fantasy land some time ago, you had your fun, now it was time to go home. It’s harder than you think— telling yourself that none of this was actually real, that there’s nothing to be sad about, that you knew this day would eventually come.
It’s okay to not want this to end, but it was going to happen.
Don’t be dumb.
Just do it already.
“We should just do that then,” you quietly say.
“Alright,” he hums, not showing you much aside from the fact that it’s something that he’ll accept.
Making the right choice doesn’t make you feel any better. The ache in your chest continues to build. You hated how you wanted more than just a simple “alright.” You wanted to know what he thought, how he felt. Why was that so easy for him?
He wasn’t supposed to matter this much.
Sukuna wasn’t in a hurry to leave and lays on the bed with you a little longer. You’re still curled up on your side, and he doesn’t think you’re aware of how unhappy you look as you start to zone out, probably beating yourself up over it.
He’s not happy about this either. He wasn’t sure how this conversation would end when he decided he was going to tell you what happened, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He didn’t think he’d be the one to make the suggestion either, let alone that he’d stick with it. But there ended up being a good reason for it in the end, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel very guilty about it.
It’s okay if it ends like this.
He reaches over and gently rests his hand on your head, pulling you out of whatever train of thought you were having. The stoic face he had on before was gone when you finally looked back at him.
He looks satisfied.
“Not a lot of people get to wiggle their way out of bindings, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood by poking some fun at you one last time. “Especially mine.”
“What an honor,” you murmur, clearly not in the mood.
“The highest.” His lips twitch into a smile— can’t say he’s mad about someone feeling sad about seeing him leave for once. The cheesy response doesn’t put a smile on you or anything, but it makes you ease up on the sulking. It was enough for him.
He doesn’t say anything else after that. He just keeps his eyes on you, etching all the little details about you into his memory, knowing this will be the last time he’ll get to do it. It’s not just your face and features that he tries to remember, but also how you let him stay around a little longer so he could do this.
There’s certain things that Sukuna just doesn’t do, and he’s accepted that he’s not as fixed as he thinks he is. It was easy for you to move him after making him remember that he was a human at one point too— a fact that he had forgotten long ago until you made him feel like one again.
He has no regrets, despite his time being cut short with you. It was bittersweet, but he was satisfied.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head as his final goodbye, and when you opened your eyes, he was gone.
—
A month has gone by since you parted ways.
You tried to enjoy it at first— the stillness, the uninterrupted silence. Then after a couple days, you started wondering if the apartment had always felt empty as it did. If it had always felt as cold as it did. You tried to ignore it, and blamed it on your miserable mornings.
A week passed by. The side effects were still there, but they no longer got in the way of your life. You couldn’t place the blame on them anymore when you realized you still didn’t feel any better. Everything was still stale and lifeless.
It didn’t feel like sadness, just exhaustion. You found it hard to bring yourself to do the little things like walking to the store or answering the phone. It felt like everything you came into contact with just took from you, sleep was the only break you had.
If you had to be honest with yourself, there was a part of you that thought he’d come back at first. He was stubborn, never listened. Even if he didn’t have a good reason to come back, he’d make one up.
Then you realized you were waiting for something that was never promised, and wished it didn’t take as long as it did. You needed to get over it and move on, but you had no idea where to start. It wasn’t like you could talk about it.
I miss the ghost that used to haunt my apartment, people would look at you like you were fucking crazy. You doubt a therapist would cut it either. It was hard enough to find one that you clicked with, let alone one that wouldn’t lie about believing you.
Writing in a journal hasn’t worked— you swear it makes it worse. You had a pen in hand, ready to write, only for 30 minutes to go by and realize nothing’s been written down. You just stared at the blank page and started zoning out.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” a familiar voice grumbles.
You turn around and immediately freeze.
It’s Sukuna.
He’s here, standing in your kitchen with a scowl. He’s irritated— rubbing his eyes at first, and when that wasn’t enough, he slid his hands down his face, nearly ripping his skin off in the process.
“You have got to stop thinking about me so much— it’s driving me fucking nuts. How the hell do you get worse after a month?”
“Wait— what?” you breathe, still trying to process that he was here.
“Your thoughts, I can feel them. My fucking head hurts,” he throws his arms out as he continues to complain, as if he never left. “And christ— the fucking daydreams— what the hell does that help, huh?”
You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head. “I don’t—”
“They’re never normal,” he rudely cuts you off. “You made me die in a car crash once and started crying like you didn’t have control over that shit!”
You open your mouth to explain, but you quickly close it after realizing that you look crazy either way.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he grumbles out, ending his rant right there since he’s gotten enough off his chest. “You’re life's normal now, you’re supposed to be happy— that’s why I left.”
“...I’m sorry,” you say barely above a whisper, still shocked at his return.
He scoffs as he walks towards you. An apology wasn’t going to fix a headache that lasted for an entire month.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” he mutters, reaching out to you and pulling you into his arms. The hug catches you off guard, yet you still accept it, and wrap your arms around him. Once your head leans against his chest, you practically melt into him and let yourself relax.
“I missed you.” It was more of a complaint coming from you, as if you never wanted to go through the awful experience of missing him again.
“No shit,” he mutters back, resting his head on top of yours.
You stay like that with him for a while, but eventually go back to the room. Neither of you say much for the first hour. After you raged war on Sukuna’s mind for an entire month, he seemed more than fine with laying down in silence, mindlessly tracing your back while you laid your head on his chest.
You talk a little bit about what you’ve been up to, mainly complaints, but he still listened, figuring it was fair since you listened to him earlier. And then it naturally led to the conversation that you should’ve had last month.
“Are you staying?” you're not very shy when you ask, it sounded like you were expecting a yes from him.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” he says, having to hold back a laugh from the look you shot at him for making a joke at the wrong time. You clearly wanted reassurance, which is hilarious given how you're already clinging to him like a koala, but he gives you some more anyways. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You smile at him and he thinks that’s the end of the questions. He was wrong, but they were good ones.
“I still think this is kind of weird though— being with you and all,” you say, not sounding too concerned at the point. It's more just casual talk for now. “Are you just gonna watch me get old?”
“If you want,” he responds, not too concerned either. “You don’t have to grow old though, there’s rituals for that.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“What kind of rituals?” You sit up and rest your chin on your palm, curious to learn more.
“Messy ones,” he grins, wondering if he should even go into detail just yet with how gory some of them are. “Can’t remember any exact ones right now, but there’s always some blood and broken bones involved.”
You point at yourself, “my blood and broken bones?”
“Maybe,” he says casually, running his finger across your jaw. “I doubt you’d have to though, you’ll probably turn into one over time.”
“Wait, so… no gory ritual?”
“No gore,” he lazily says, his mood changes fast from just thinking about it. “This one’s fun. Easy too.”
“Yeah right.” You stifle a laugh, already getting what he means by that— though you still don’t think it’s as easy as he makes it out to be. “Everybody would’ve done it by now it was.”
“It’s the slowest way since you gotta do it a bunch of times, but I swear it’s easy. Especially for you,” he casually says, despite the air starting to thicken between you.
He’s the one who’s doing it.
Your heart starts to pick up, getting louder by the second. You feel his hand sliding down your back until it’s on your ass, then pulls you up closer to him, all while the familiar feeling of heat starts to surge through your veins.
“Let me show you.”
It takes him a few minutes to turn you into a whining mess.
He manipulates the air and floods your senses, bringing you back to that same feverish state you were in over a month ago. It’s just as unbearable as last time, almost making you question why this is something you agreed to.
Then he starts to fill the room with the obscene sounds of him fucking you.
“Look at you— makin’ a mess already.” He’s got your back pressed against his chest, holding you in place as he pounded into you. He’s right next to your ear, being as filthy as ever, as if he didn’t already have you reeling from the way he kept hitting your sweet spot every time he drove his hips forward.
“Feels good, huh?” he taunts you, you can feel him smiling against the shell of your ear. “Told you this was fun”
“So fucking good,” you whine, clinging on to the arm that’s keeping you up while taking every inch he gives you. Your skin’s burning hot, there’s chills running through your body, slick running down your thighs. The stretch is insane, and his cock just slides in and out of you like it’s nothing.
Sukuna nudges your legs further apart so he can fuck deeper into you, soothing that ache you feel in your core. There’s a wet schlik every time he draws his hips back and each thrust grows louder, messier. Your moans start to pick up and he lets out a low, breathy laugh. “Is that where you want me, princess? That makin’ you feel better?”
“Yeah, need you right there.” You’re as desperate as you sound. Everything’s so intense, yet you can never reach full relief, he just keeps you right at the edge of it.
And he loves it, how fucked out and helpless you are, how the only thing you want right now is his cock stuffed inside of you.
He’s still drilling into you when you feel a hand start to snake down your belly. Your breath hitches as it gets lower and lower, until the pads of his fingers find your clit, making you fucking lose it when he starts rubbing.
He lets out a low groan when you start squeezing around him. “Fuck, that’s it, let me hear you scream for me.”
And you do, overwhelmed by the pressure that starts to build up— fast. Your legs tremble and vision starts to blur, nearly going limp from the way he begins to work the orgasm out of you. He’s still in your ear, talking you through it in that rough voice of his. “Can feel how how fuckin’ close you are. Go ahead— let go and cum for me.”
It only takes a few more thrusts for it to hit you so hard that it rips a cry out of you. You start gushing around him, and he continues to ride you through it while his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier, just hammering through your walls as he chases his own release. Guttural groans leaving his lips as he starts filling you up with so much cum that it starts to spill out.
Everything goes quiet after. You’re still trembling, struggling to catch your breath as you slowly start to come back to reality. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel Sukuna lean back and slowly pull out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a satisfied look on his face.
“You’ll be just like me in no time.”
notes: i know nothing about incubus' and just went off random stuff i found on google
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