synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, some fluff, angst, violence
notes: HAI WELCOME TO THE LAST CHAPTER!! im actually so surprised i finished this, i totally forgot about it until last week 💀 with that being said, if you've gotten this far, tysm for reading!!! 4.5k words, don't forget to check the end notes ❤️
m.list | part four | epilogue
“You’re really going to do this to me and our baby?”
For a second, he stops breathing. Pupils slowly dilating as his own feelings began to surge to the surface, drowning any and all reasoning in the process, like he’s always done for you. It was like clockwork— making exceptions, mindlessly bending his own will for you, even if it chipped away at the parts he had spent years honing. You were like a parasite.
“Stop it.” You can hear the desperation in his tone as he jerks your face in his hands, as if he were begging you to not make this harder than it already is. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I’m not,” you cry out, pushing yourself off of him hard enough to escape his grasp. You don’t take your eyes off of him as you slowly heave, trying to catch your breath. “The tests are under the bathroom sink if you don’t believe me.”
At first you think he’s going to lunge at you, everything from his stance to his clenched jaw says so. Instead, he rushes past you, going straight to the master bathroom. Minutes later you find him sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands. All four pregnancy tests scattered on the counter where he threw them, one positive test at a time.
He already didn’t want to kill you at first, how could he possibly go through with it now?
He lets out a deep sigh, but the shame doesn’t allow him to raise his head. “When did you take these?”
“On Monday,” you murmur, picking at your cuticles, keeping yourself at a safe distance from him. He doesn’t blame you. “I was going to tell you this weekend.”
Hearing the apprehension in your voice made him feel worse. You were supposed to be happy while telling him this, not while trying to leave enough space between you two, just in case you needed to get a head start from him.
He could try to convince himself that it was the pregnancy hormones that made you act up today, but he wouldn’t believe that. You were too calm earlier. He wouldn’t be touching a single hair on your head either way.
“Do you want it?” he dully asks, bracing himself for a no.
When you first found out, yes. But now? “I don’t know anymore.”
Again, he doesn’t blame you. He takes a deep breath before standing up, feeling his chest tighten even more from the way you took a step back. Instead of leaning against the doorframe, you’re now standing slightly behind it.
He could tell you to stop, tell you that he wasn’t going to hurt you, but why would you believe him? You can’t even look at him right now.
He can barely look at you either.
“Hey.” He uses a hushed tone, waiting for your eyes to meet his before daring to take another step forward. He holds his hand out, in hopes that you’d take it, but your arms never leave your sides, and he’s left cautiously inching himself closer towards you until he’s pulling you into his arms.
The aggressions gone, he holds you like he’d break you if he so much as breathed too hard.
“Whatever you decide to do, just know none of what happened today isn’t going to trace back to us.”
—
Ryu’s the spitting image of his father.
He’s got the pink hair, the same facial features, down to the same smile. He’ll probably have his height too, he’s a big baby. To think there was a time where you two thought the 6 lb newborn you brought home was going to starve if you didn't feed him on time. Now here he is at 10 months old, with the chunkiest rolls on his arms and legs.
“Got the milk monster all cleaned up?” Sukuna snorts at the sight of his son, who’s burrito wrapped up in a towel and smiling from ear to ear as you walk into the living room to show off how clean he is.
“I did. He was so nice too, didn’t splash me with water this time.” Ryu’s smile grows wider when you pinch his cheek a little, kicking his little feet around.
“Good job, kid,” he laughs under his breath, pulling himself up off the couch so he could take the boy off your hands.
Nights usually end with you two hanging out in the nursery, waiting for the boy to fall asleep.
He liked being a dad. He was terrified at first, but having him around genuinely made him happy. Ryu made life better. You two ended up moving into a bigger house that was closer to the shop. Not to mention you two were too busy being parents to even focus on others… let alone harming them.
He gets the itch every now and then, he’ll rarely scratch it. But when he does, he goes for someone easy— someone who really won't be missed. Makes the clean up extra easy, you know?
No extra steps, like scrubbing the absolute fuck out of the floor of his garage, or brainstorming different alibis while yanking someone’s teeth out.
The whole wrench incident still hit a nerve with Sukuna. He was a little more calculated and planned his kills. Then there was you, who literally popped up out of nowhere. You’re always quick to shut him up whenever you mention that he tried to kill you while you were pregnant.
Which he still feels really bad about, by the way. He was already starting to get cold feet to begin with— imagine how he felt when you dropped the news on him.
But of course, you two were able to maneuver through that dark period in your relationship. He has you and your incredibly lenient list of conditions to thank for that— one of them being: no more secrets.
He’s free to do as he pleases, just as long as he lets you know. Kind of a bummer given how it’s only been less than a handful of times he has gotten the chance to give you a heads up. But again, parents— busy.
You were also free to do as you pleased, just as long as you didn’t go about it so… irrationally.
“Ew, no. You seriously think I’d get my hands dirty like that again?”
Not the response he was expecting. He thought it’d be something a little more heartwarming. Maybe even be something you could bond over. All it seemed to have done was insult you, so he never brought it up again.
You two already had the baby and the new house to bond over, anyway. You had moved to a neighborhood closer to the shop when you were 4 months along. The house was bigger, had more rooms and a nice backyard for the kid to run around in one day.
A fixer-upper for sure, but you found yourself more excited than stressed over it. If anyone was stressed, it was him. He just randomly woke up one morning believing he had to build half the furniture himself or else it’d break after one use. A little dramatic. Though you’d admit, the furniture he built put the ones you bought to shame, even the crib that you’re watching your baby boy peacefully sleep in right now.
You hope he grows up and sees all the effort Sukuna puts into being a father as something that's normal— that being loved and cared for isn't something you have to beg for. You also hope you two don’t mess him up before that time comes either.
“He’s so cute,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around Sukuna, laying your head against his chest.
He whispers back, “I know,” before pressing a kiss against your temple, hand slowly tracing down your back. “We should practice making another one tonight.” You immediately frown at his response and he just smirks. “What? I said practice.”
You were on the fence about having a second one. He doesn’t mind at all. He actually wants a second one, but doesn’t try to push you. He doubts he has to— you practically melt every time you see him using one of those stupid baby carriers, looking like a real family man. He was convinced you just needed some time, that’s all.
He wasn’t wrong.
You weren't in a rush, not when your plan of turning him into an actual family man worked. He works 4 days a week now, so he’s home more. He got you a bigger house. A better car. Gave you the sweetest baby. Your life turned out exactly how you wanted when you first met Sukuna.
Maybe one day you’ll give him a sibling, but for now, you were content.
But practicing?
“Been waiting to sit here all day, huh?” he grins, his big, calloused hands grabbing your hips, holding you steady as you ride him on the couch.
“Yes,” you let out a sigh, still rolling your hips back. “I like being a mom, but do you know how nice it is going back to being me?”
“A slut?” he smirks, earning himself a smack on the chest even though you bursted out laughing at the same time as him.
“You’re so annoying,” you say, slowing down to reach for the glass of wine you’re sharing, though Sukuna may be sitting a couple inches too far from the end table.
He watches you with dazed, half lidded eyes as you struggle to grab the stem of it. “Careful,” he murmurs, grabbing onto your hips tighter so you don't fall, making you giggle some more before taking a sip.
You hand him the glass next, only for you to click your tongue in annoyance as you watch him take a big gulp. “This is the type of greed that they talk about in the Bible, you know.”
“I’m already going to hell, sweetheart.” He sets the glass back down, then pulls your body forward, pressing his feet against the floor. “You’re going there, too,” he murmurs in your ear as he slowly starts to fuck into you, pulling your hips down to meet each thrust.
“Mmm— don’t remind me.” You softly hum, leaning down further to kiss him, tasting the wine on his lips, then on his tongue as you swirl yours around it. He nips at your bottom lip when you pull back and your tipsy self just lets out an airy laugh.
“Then don’t complain,” he slides his hand down your ass before giving it a light strike. “You’re already drunk, anyway.”
“M’not,” you respond stubbornly, even though your words come out slightly slurred. “You’re making it really difficult right now.”
“You poor thing,” he murmurs, as condescending as always, “too busy getting your pussy stuffed to get up and grab another bottle, must be rough.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you just sipped on it.”
He snorts, eyes tracing down to your chest, smirking when an idea pops up in his head. “Here–” You let out a sudden gasp when he wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks on it, as if it solves the problem. He holds you still so you don’t push away when he starts to flick his tongue over it, making you squeeze around him trying to bite back a moan.
All it does is make him pull your hips down and grind you harder against his cock, until you’re out of breath, left with no other choice but to let out all the little sounds you’ve been holding back.
There’s a lew pop when he pulls his mouth back. “Can’t complain now, huh?” he taunts you, still grinding you against him. “Fuuck yeah– you like it when I’m nice and deep like this.” His hips snap up again, pulling another little moan out of you.
“Mhm,” you nod, trying to hold yourself up without sinking your nails into his chest, arching your back as he starts snapping his hips up again, and again, and again, until your eyes are rolling back and unable to form a thought outside of how good he feels.
“Fuck– yes, yes,” you begin to whine, “oh my god— right there.”
“Yeah?” he rasps, gripping your hips tighter as he starts picking up the pace, filling the room with the messy sounds of him bouncing you on his cock, “that feel good?”
“So good,” you desperately nod again, moans broken up from each thrust, “don't– don’t fucking stop– please.”
Hearing you beg goes straight to his dick— he fucking loves it when you need him.
“I’ll make you cum baby, don’t worry,” he lets out a low laugh, and you’re too fucked out to think anything of it when he has you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Ready?”
“For what?” you’re still giggling, so blissfully unaware of the plans he has to turn them into screams. He doesn’t answer and instead abruptly stands up at full height, with every inch of his dick still buried inside of you. “What are y– Kuna!” you cry out, holding on to him way too tight for someone that’s supposed to trust him.
Not that he really cares right now.
“Just hold on to me, alright?”
It was more of a warning, and you listened, because holding on to him quickly became the only thing that grounded you.
He has you in tears, immediately. Driving his cock into you at an insane pace, dropping you down to meet each thrust. Legs helplessly swinging in the air as he bounces you up and down his length. The rooms filled with the filthy sounds of him pounding into you– there’s an obscene squelch every time his hips smack against yours, and both are almost as loud as all of the sounds his dick forces out of you.
“Fuuuck yeah– look at that,” Sukuna groans as he plants a foot on the couch, making it easier to watch the creamy ring at the base of his cock thicken. He doesn’t even realize he’s fucking into you at a new angle until the sounds of your moans start to grow desperate. “Oh shit, you like that?” he laughs, continuing to bounce you up and down his dick, making you feel every inch and every vein.
“Yeah,” the spot he starts to hit pulls a drawn out moan, “mmm– keep going.”
“Bouta cum aren’t you?” he lightly teases you, dragging himself over your sweet spot, over and over again. You nod in response, looking absolutely spent. He snorts and leans down to mutter in ear, “Be a good girl and show me then. Think you can do that?”
“Mhm, just– keep going, feels so good.”
He keeps going at the same pace, staying on the certain spot that drove you crazy, letting his fat tip drag over it until your moans rose in pitch and face scrunched up, on the verge of overstimulation.
“Fuck. I’m gonna–” you choke out, starting to tremble in his hold. “I’m gonna– nghh.”
He’s an impatient man. One particularly rough thrust is all it takes to make the orgasm completely rip through you, leaving you a crying, gushing mess while Sukuna starts to talk through it.
“That’s it, baby,” he groans, still working you through it with deep strokes. “Shit– look at the mess you’re making. Keep fuckin’ going.”
And he meant it when he told you to keep going, you were limp by the time he finished dragging it out for as long as he could, leaving you out of breath and your legs shaking when he finally set you back down on the couch.
“You alright?” he asks, running the back of his fingers down your cheek, admiring the little post sex glow you had.
“Yeah,” you murmur, turning to him and forcing yourself to open your eyes. “Did you finish?”
“Nope,” he didn’t mind breaking it to you, it was only 9:00 anyways. “I’ll let you take a break though.”
“How sweet of you,” you respond sarcastically. All he does is kiss your cheekbone in response, before getting up and walking back into the kitchen.
He comes back less than a minute later with a new bottle of wine in his hand.
“Want it?”
You take a moment to think about it, and your responsibilities as a mother of a baby that wasn’t even a year old. You sigh at first, but then remembered Sukuna had a high alcohol tolerance and the day off tomorrow.
“Will you watch Ryu in the morning if I wake up hungover?
He smiles, twists the bottle open, and flicks the cap off, sending it flying across the room.
“Yes.”
—
The trunk of the SUV opens with a muffled hiss. Sukuna doesn’t let the door fully open before tossing in a giant case of bottled water into the car, as if it weighed nothing to him. Ryu’s sitting in the grocery cart, babbling and chewing on his teether, unphased by all the noise his father makes as he loads the trunk with various household essentials.
It all goes in one ear and out the other, despite the watchful eye he keeps on his son. He’s pretty much on autopilot as he loads the car, until he hears Ryu throwing out the only word he knows how to properly say.
“Mama.”
How demanding. Sukuna turns his head to the boy and huffs out a laugh, “I know. You’ll see her in a minute.” His smile grows as he watches his kid kick his feet around and babble something else. “You got a lot to say for someone that hasn’t said Dada yet, y’know that?”
“Ada,” Ryu bounces up in his seat.
Sukuna shakes his head as he reaches for a bag of rice, “close enough.” There’s still a smile on his face when he feels his phone start to buzz in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out to see your contact photo on the screen, ready to chastise you for making Ryu a mama’s boy when he swipes to answer.
“We’ll be home soon— kid’s already asking for you,” he says, thinking that’s what you called him for. You usually ask him to turn facetime on so you could see Ryu, so he waits, but you don’t ask.
You don’t say anything.
It takes him a moment to realize the faint noise in the background is your breathing. It’s restrained. Shaky. He still tells himself the connection’s just bad.
“Can you hear me?” he asks, trying to not sound too concerned as he throws the last item into the trunk. Seconds pass, he grows impatient. “Babe– you there?”
Your breath catches and it immediately makes his blood run cold. His grip on the shopping cart tightens, pulling it closer to him out of instinct as he listens to your breathing worsen. It grew labored, like you were about to break out into a sob at any second.
“Talk to me,” he almost snaps, just barely keeping his composure. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”
“N-no. I– fuck,” you start to whimper, but then stop.
“You what?” he responds through a clenched jaw, all concern and confusion coming out as frustration. “Baby you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
“Something happened,” your voice trembled, taking a sharp breath after.
He quickly closes the trunk, then takes Ryu out of the cart before kicking it into an empty parking spot. “I’m on my way right now, stay on the ph–”
“Don’t bring Ryu here,” you frantically cut him off.
“Why not?”
“Don’t bring him here,” your voice breaks, bursting out into a sob as you begin to beg him. “Please— don’t bring Ryu here.”
“Where the fuck is he supposed to go then?” he scoffs and begins to argue with you, “I can’t just leave him in the car–”
“I don’t know! Fuck! I don’t know– leave him at Jin’s,” you continue crying and pleading with him, not letting him get another word in. “Just anywhere but here— please.”
Maybe if you weren’t going into a full blown crisis, you’d be able to imagine the look on Sukuna’s face right now as he imagines what could’ve possibly happened to you.
Better yet, what you could’ve possibly done.
“You better not move an inch until I’m there,” he sharply says, using a tone that’d scare anyone off, “do you understand me?”
“I won’t,” you whimper, just glad he’s coming back alone.
He tries not to think about it while he drives to his brother's house, for the sake of sounding like everything was okay despite randomly dropping his kid off with him. It’s when he’s speeding back home to you, the pit in his stomach growing as he keeps a lookout for cops, when his mind starts to run wild.
All the possibilities race through his mind, up until he steps foot into his home. It’s eerily quiet. For a moment, he thinks of how beautiful his home is— the high ceilings, the natural light, how you did such a good job coming up with a color scheme. You don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone, and for Sukuna, he didn’t appreciate how much room there was to breathe in his home until he suddenly found himself suffocating in it.
The image he had in his head wasn’t too far off from reality. Not like it was some crazy conclusion he jumped to— can’t be that surprised about being right when it’s something that’s happened before. So no, when he finally catches sight of what you called him crying about, and realizes he underestimated you, he’s not surprised.
He’s speechless.
You used a fucking knife this time.
And he told you not to fucking move, so you’re still holding it. Frozen in place, save for the light tremble. There’s blood smeared all over the blade and your hand. It’s splattered across your cheek too. You’ve also been crying, so some of your tears cut through the stain and left behind a trail of faint red streaks.
There’s a body that’s awkwardly leaning against the kitchen island. It’s sitting in a pool of blood that stretches far enough to reach your feet, and now your favorite slippers are ruined. Lucky for you, you’re at the very edge. You can just slip out of them and step on to the dry part of the floor.
Sukuna takes another look at the body and rolls his eyes when he realizes it’s an ex-girlfriend. At least this one won’t have many people wondering where she is, he doubts anyone will even report her missing.
His silence eventually gets to you, making your eyes begin to tear up and bottom lip quiver. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle.
You don’t feel bad for what you did— he can tell by how you looked at her dead body, all disgusted, like this mess was all her fault. The only thing you’re sorry about is making him clean up after you, long after he told you not to attack people on a whim.
You claimed it was a fluke at the time, but it’s still all he’s ever really asked of you, so he doesn’t acknowledge the apology.
“What did she say to you?” he murmurs, already knowing she said something you didn’t like.
And of course, he’s right. “She came knocking on the door, asking if you were home,” you say defensively, clearly getting annoyed all over again, “and then she started talking about how she wanted to catch up with you.”
“So you lured her inside?” he pinches the bridge of his nose, unimpressed by your answer.
“She asked if she could wait for you inside,” you correct him, as if telling her to fuck off wasn’t an option. “I tried being nice to her but then she kept talking about you like she wanted to fuck you.”
That’s where he decides to stop— there isn’t one question that’ll get a reasonable answer out of you. At this point, it’s on her for asking to come inside. He shakes his head and sighs, walking over to one of the cabinets to grab a trash bag and shakes it open.
“Alright,” he says flatly, rubbing the stubble on his jaw as he looks over the literal crime scene one more time. “Step out of the puddle– stop, leave the slippers there– good.”
He stands there for a moment, going through a mental checklist and wondering where he should start, when you ask him a question.
“Would you have let her in if I wasn’t home?”
You couldn’t help yourself, but also kind of regretted it when he swung his head around to look at you like you were stupid.
“What do you fuckin’ think?” he harshly asks, irritated that you even thought to ask in the first place. To no one's surprise, it hurts your fucking feelings, so he drops the glare and actually answers. “No. Now strip.”
He holds the trash bag out and you begin throwing in pieces of clothing one by one, starting with your sweater. “You’re not mad?” you cautiously ask, throwing in your leggings, then your socks. By the time you're standing in front of him in nothing but a bra and panties, he’s still wondering if he should lie or not.
“I’m not.”
He is.
It’s not so much at you anymore, it's the fact that he can get mad at you and it changes nothing. Not even if you straight up told him that this will continue to happen. You don’t even have to tell him, he knows it will.
“Go wash yourself off,” he murmurs, “I’ll take care of this.”
It’s like clockwork. Killing off his own reasoning, all so you’d stay right where he placed you– suffocating any and all logic he had, just so he wouldn’t question it.
You are the little bird he caught and locked away in a cage.
He put you there.
He clipped your wings.
He swears he did.
You pretend not to notice the way he starts to fight with himself all over again. It’s not often, but it’s always right after you catch him looking at you in a way he can’t explain.
He’ll still try— and try, and fail, and try, and he’ll almost get it— almost. But then, he’ll start to feel unease, it’ll start to feel like something went wrong, like he got into something he shouldn’t have. He always ends up with the same feeling.
Like something’s off.
And it’s visceral— sinking into his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck start to raise, he’ll s—
“Thank you, baby.”
He doesn’t respond. Not that you were looking for one. You just needed him to snap out of it, and he did— abandoning whatever thought that was making his spiral.
It wasn’t you. It was his own guilt starting to take over, a feeling he’s grown more than familiar with now ever since he put you behind a lock and held on to the key.
For what it’s worth, getting to look into your eyes for as long as you’d let him was worth the guilt.
“Hey,” he murmurs, catching you right before you disappear into the hallway. You turn around, raising your eyebrows as you wait for him to talk. “I’m still not okay with this, but I don’t want you thinking I love you any less. Alright?”
“Okay,” you smile and shuffle in place for a moment, “...can I have a kiss then?”
He tries to take you seriously, but huffs out a laugh, “Fine.”
You like it when he looks into your eyes too, even if he’s always mistaken the look you have in them for love. Even now, with your face only inches away from his, he still doesn’t see the way they darken from satisfaction.
You’re starting to think he’ll never be able to tell the difference.
There wasn’t much of a difference when it came to you, anyway.
You love your possessions.
notes: i'm literally just throwing random details out rn. first and foremost, if reader wasn't pregnant, he would've backed out of killing her, but at the very last minute. she'd also stay, bc reader is reader. she probably would've gotten pregnant right after LMAO. she knows that too, and isn't phased by it bc she knows he chooses emotion over logic when it comes to her, but she does bring it up if she wants him to feel like shit.
reader is the parasite btw 🥳 one thing i wanted to bring up is how sukuna's secret came to light, but not so much of readers. like he knows she gets jealous and kills people, but he's obv in denial abt her. his whole thing is "i fucked HER up, i snatched her off the streets, i babytrapped HER. I'M the serial killer," when really it's the other way around, she just lets him think that bc he'll literally start fighting with himself.
her obsession with him started the moment the she laid her eyes on him. he kinda clocked it (her being off, not obsessive), which is why he tried to kill her (the whole uncanny valley thing, the look/feeling he couldn't describe was and is still something that set off alarms for him on a spiritual level 💀), but she was like no we're gonna be together 4 ever! if he left her, she'd fucking KILL him omg
i also hope some of you caught the small details with reader/ryu and the baby trapping thing. she got pregnant around the time her jealousy started to pick up (when she was sending all the women to gojos shop lol), but even with her reason for having a child, she really does love him and i tried to show that through her briefly talking about her hopes for him (that he's loved and they don't fuck him up) and then her freaking out and begging sukuna not to bring him home, because she does not want to fuck him up (even tho he wouldn't remember hehe)
that's all i can think about for now! feel free to send an ask tho if you had any questions ❤️❤️❤️
lol I really loved this actually. The series as a whole was fascinating and so engaging and even though it’s toxic as FUUUUUCM I love how she is a master manipulator in all of this. He runs her but in reality she runs him. It’s perfect truly and yes I love her obsession with him. Like yes claim your man and fuck those girls too
synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, some fluff, angst, violence, more to be added
notes: barely proofread!! please read through the warnings, enjoy <3
m.list | part three | part four | epilogue
Sukuna liked hurting girls.
Hurting them. Not so much killing them— most of his victims were men, after all. He liked how he didn’t have to put too much work into hurting them either. All it really took was making them realize he didn’t love them as much as they thought he did to see that look. It’s the same exact look he sees in his victims eyes when they realize that, yes, they really were going to die.
Something about seeing the loss of hope, how the world didn’t stop for them, was really satisfying for him.
But, notice how he said most of his victims were men? There were a few women sprinkled in there, ones he chose carefully, all for different reasons. They never really suffered though, he always ended up snapping their necks after watching them cry for a few minutes after learning he was going to cut their stories short.
You were supposed to be one of them.
It wasn’t because you were being a brat, or because he caught you looking around the shop like it was a dump, clutching on to your little purse while your kitten heels clacked around the oil stained floor. His ego wasn’t fragile. You were supposed to act like that. Like you were better than him.
Then you turned around and looked at him the way you did.
To this day, he still couldn’t explain it.
It wasn’t just interest. It was almost as if you could tell he was capable of doing very bad things to you. You looked like you wanted to see him do them too, and he wanted to prove to you that he could, just not in the way you thought.
That was the plan after your first date, yet instead of driving you to your grave, he drove you back home. 15 minutes later he found himself on your couch, with his head thrown back and legs spread wide, slowly rocking you back and forth against his growing bulge while you kissed on his neck, tongue and all.
He doesn’t recall fucking anyone as hard as he fucked you that night.
There’s a lot of people he regrets not killing. You aren’t one of them. He likes talking to you, likes fucking you, likes coming to home to you and waking up beside you.
He loves you.
He really does.
He doesn’t have to do much to prove it either. It’s in the way he never bothers to open his eyes when he first wakes up in the morning— nuzzling his face deeper into the crook of your neck instead, holding you closer against him.
It’s in the way he does his best to hide you from the world. He enjoys taking care of you, wants to be the only one you run to for help. He likes protecting you, even though it’s people like him that you need protection from the most.
It was selfish.
He knows he should’ve left you alone, yet instead, he lured you in and turned you into some sort of caged bird. The worst part is he doesn’t regret it. Not even when he thinks about how much you could be doing with your life right now.
He wants you here, in his bed, well within reach.
Sometimes he wonders what he’d do if you ever tried to leave. It makes his mind wander off to a place he’d rather not go to when thinking of you. It was actually quite shameful, the things he’d resort to if you ever tried to split from him, which is why he doesn’t ponder on it for too long.
You stir a little bit in his hold, taking in a sharp breath and wrapping your arms around his neck. The room was chilly in the mornings and he was warm, not to mention you’re naked, like you always are. He opens his eyes a little to see you haven’t bothered to open yours at all, and once again, he feels no regrets. Not with how hard you cling on to him.
It’s starting to get lighter outside. The sun’s starting to peak through the curtains and there’s a faint sound of chirping from different directions. He hates that it’s a Friday, he’d stay with you like this all day if he could. “Gotta get up,” he mumbles against your skin, before pressing a kiss over it, then another one right under your ear. It takes you a moment to answer after your initial sigh, and even then it’s a little, “kay’.”
He’s gone and out the door by 8:30 am, leaving you to sleep for another couple hours before you eventually force yourself out of bed to make some coffee.
You don’t have much of a routine to your day. Sometimes you stay in bed all day, sometimes you get yourself ready and run around town, doing a bunch of little errands. You’re not exactly sure what to do today, you just know you want to get out of the house for a bit.
You let yourself think about it while showering and getting ready. By the time you’re done applying the last coat of mascara to your lashes, you decide you’re going to surprise Sukuna with some lunch at work. It’s nothing fancy, just rice and stir-fry with some gyoza on the side. Definitely a lot better than the instant noodles he’d sometimes eat when he’s in a rush, you know he appreciates it, too.
It’s a little after 12:00 pm when you get to his shop, and the first thing you hear while walking up to the garage is this irritating giggling that should not be in the shop unless it’s coming out of you. It stops you in your tracks, just a few feet away from their view, and you decide to stand there and wait.
“Hey, uh– you don’t happen to be doing anything tonight, do you?”
“Taking my girl out to dinner probably,” he responds, the indifference in his tone loud enough to hit your ears.
It should be enough.
“What a lucky girl— snatched you up before anyone else could,” she does that infuriating giggle again, continuing to have way too much optimism for someone that will never have a chance, “well… if that doesn’t work out, feel free to give me a call sometime.”
You don’t really catch what Sukuna says after, your ears immediately started ringing after that. All you know is you hear the door to his office close shut and you’re turning the corner seconds later.
She’s standing there, patiently waiting for him to come back outside with her bill when she starts to hear unhurried footsteps softly echoing through the garage. Turning her head and politely smiling when she notices you, thinking you’re just another customer or something with how calm you look walking into the garage.
You smile back. It’s warm, non-threatening. You have been practicing them for over a decade now, you look more welcoming than most. It’s why she’s her comfortable enough to take her eyes off of you as she continues to wait.
She doesn’t see you grab the nearest wrench and doesn’t turn to look back at you until it’s too late.
There’s a sharp crack, followed by a soft thud.
You stare at her and wait, letting the seconds pass buy as you gave her a fair chance to get up and fight back. When you realize she never will, you turn your head back in the direction of the office.
Sukuna’s there.
The office door has been wide open for some time now. You don’t ask how long it’s been open, or how much he’s seen. The shock on his face says he’s seen enough, just barely trying to process what he just witnessed you do in his shop, in broad daylight.
“What the fuck,” he breathes out, eyes widening at the unresponsive body at your feet before ultimately losing his shit. “Why the fuck would you do that?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“I don’t– I don’t know.” The reality of it all finally hits you, and you slowly start to panic. “I just overheard what she was saying and–”
“And what?!” he cuts you off, yanking the tool out of your hand and scoffing at the blood that’s on it because of you. “You thought that’d be a good enough reason to crack her fuckin’ skull open with a wrench?” He’s livid, running a hand down his face and cursing under his breath.
Of all fucking things, you just had to use a wrench.
He crouches down and you begin to panic some more. “W-what are you doing?”
“Shut up,” he snaps at you in a threatening tone. He feels for a pulse and gets angrier when he realizes that she’s still alive. Neither of you were going to get out of this without any serious consequences, so he does what he thinks is best and snaps her neck. “Go home.”
“But Kuna, I–”
“I’m not fuckin’ around with you right now,” he warns you, standing up at full height and pointing in the direction your cars parked. “Go home.”
—
Hours go by, and you do nothing to fill it, staring at the wall until it’s well into the night. You know exactly what he’s doing, he’s cleaning up with the mess you made, and then covering it up so that the girl's disappearance doesn’t trace back to either of you.
And you’re scared, not of the police, but of Sukuna and what he’d do. You’ve never seen him that mad before. Ever.
You don’t realize he’s home until he’s slamming the door shut behind him at full force, making you startle out of your skin while the entire house rattles. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stops and stares at you. His eyes are dull and his hair’s messy like it is in the mornings. The longer the silence stretches on for, the more you shrink into the couch, waiting for what he could possibly say to you after today’s events.
He doesn’t know what to say.
He’s been too busy burying a fucking body to even think about it, pissed off the whole time over how you couldn’t control yourself, how messy of a job you did.
Where would he even start? You didn’t just assault someone earlier, you also watched him snap her neck. You didn’t kill her, he did. You watched him finish her off and then went home while he covered everything up. There’s still blood and dirt under his fingernails because of it.
He did the dirty work.
And of course, when he finally does say something, it’s not much. You can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done today?”
“I’m sorry,” you stand up from your seat, slowly walking up to him.
It’s sincere, you sound like you mean it, but that doesn’t matter.
“Someone’s dead because of you, and all you have to say is sorry?” he laughs bitterly, running his hands through his hair for the hundredth time that night. “All because, what? You didn’t like what she was saying?”
“You told her that you were taken and she didn’t stop!”
“That doesn’t mean you can go ahead and try to KILL her!” he snaps, reminded all over again that this was all caused by jealousy, even after he declined her. Not once, but twice.
There’s a strong gust of wind that hits the windows shortly after, as if the heavens were just as angry at you as Sukuna was, and you feel yourself begin to crumble under the weight of his stare
“Like you’re any better,” you mutter under your breath.
“What did you just say?”
You shouldn’t have fucking said that.
The change in him is instant, as his eyes suddenly zero in on you, like you were next.
You don’t repeat yourself, you just continue to stand there with your arms crossed, looking anywhere but into his eyes. It’s so quiet right now that you could hear a pin drop, the only thing that interrupts it is the threatening sounds of his footsteps as he walks closer to you.
“Say that again,” he dares you.
You continue to ignore him, even as he gets closer. It’s not until he grabs your jaw and lifts your head up when you finally look at him.
“Say it again,” he repeats himself, like it was the last time he was going to do it.
“You heard what I said,” you stubbornly respond, trying to turn your head away from his hold, but finding yourself unable to do so. No, it didn’t hurt, but you could tell he was going to make it hurt if you tried that again.
“Alright, then,” he laughs, and it’s fucking dark. “Wanna tell me what the fuck you meant by that then?”
“I’m sure you know exactly what I meant with the way you’re acting right now.”
“Oh, I know,” he hums, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and yanking you closer to him. “Are you sure that’s something you wanna accuse me of, sweetheart?”
“You’re acting like I didn’t watch you finish her off.”
“And that didn’t seem to bother you at all, did it?” he asks, using his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, before wrapping it behind your neck as well, now holding your face with both hands. “Tell me, how long have you known?”
He doesn’t sound angry anymore. There’s resolve in his tone, as if a suffocating weight has just been lifted off his chest and he can finally breathe again. It’s quite rattling, given how his grip on you hasn’t loosened.
“Does it matter?” you nearly whisper, heart starting to pick up knowing he could snap your neck right here, right now, if he wanted.
“No– guess not.” He softly kisses your forehead, then smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Guess it just sucks, this little dream of ours is over.” It’s not even a threat at this point, it was reality. What did he look like to you? Some movie villain that had finally found the one that was as crazy as him? No. It didn’t matter how he felt about you anymore, you were a liability.
Your eyes widen, giving him the same look so many others have given him in the past. He must admit that this time around, he doesn’t enjoy it. Seeing you in a situation like this made his chest tighten. The time he spent with you truly was a dream. He wanted to look into your eyes for the rest of his life.
He loves you.
He really does.
The tears start to well up, and your heart starts to break right in front of him, and his chest tightens some more. He was going to regret this so fucking much. He knows he really shouldn’t, especially when he already knew the sight of you right now was going to haunt him until the day he died, but he lets you have your last words anyways.
“You’re really going to do this to me and our baby?”
synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: 4k word again, barely proofread!! enjoy <3
m.list | part two | part three | part four
It’s been five days since you and Sukuna had gotten into a fight. In those five days, you have said a total of 13 words to him.
The first day, you completely ignored him. Understandable.
The second, he asked if you would like a cup of coffee. You said no.
On the third day, he asked if you wanted to go out to dinner. You told him to shut up.
Then there was yesterday, he didn’t have to approach you. You were walking past him in the living room, stopped, scanned him from head to toe a couple times, then said, “get a fucking haircut, you look like you have depression.”
He got a haircut— not because he had depression, but because he genuinely felt like something really bad was going to happen to him if he didn’t with the way you looked at him.
And today, you slept in. There was no way in hell he was going to wake you up, just to say goodbye, before he left for work. You probably would’ve smacked the shit out of him.
It’s only been five days. Yeah, he was starting to get a little impatient, but he hasn’t given up. He just hated the silence, and how stubborn you were, and how you chose the couch over the bed. You knew he’d go to bed feeling like a piece of shit because of it— it's just another punishment.
But again, it’s been five days. It was a normal amount of time to be mad at someone, especially given how bad he fucked up. He’s giving you your space, even though space was also something he really fucking hated.
Since he had to deal with it, he had to find some way to decompress.
Explains why he’s on his way back from the woods right now. Digging an 8 foot grave was a lot, even for him, but it helped. Jerry probably helped out a little more though. 5’10. 173 pounds. 49 years old. An alcoholic, with a long history of domestic abuse and sexual abuse charges. And he was a fighter.
No one was going to miss Jerry.
You know who would miss Sukuna though if disappeared?
You.
You’d feel so fucking bad. Probably get up in front of some mic, talking about how good of a person he was and how much you missed him, too. The guilt would eat away at you the entire time, because your last words to him would’ve been, “you look like you have fucking depression.”
You’d feel terrible.
He glances over at the flowers laying on the passenger seat of his car, and already knew you were going to reject them. It was going to have to be him to replace the flowers in your vase today. Then he checks his phone, seeing that he was right on time. You weren’t speaking to him, but that wasn’t going to stop you from questioning his whereabouts if he came home late.
—
You’ve already made plans for when you made up with him. Waiting for Sukuna to go to work was one of them, just so you could check that little polaroid stash of his. You wonder how many new photos have been added to his stack in the last five days.
You’re not exactly sure when it’ll happen though.
It’s ultimately up to you, but you really don’t want to initiate that. What you want is for him to start screaming, crying, and throwing up over how much he misses you, and of course he’s failing at that, because he’s a fucking man. All he’s done is to walk around the house with a sorry look on his face the entire time.
Not to mention his hair looked great the other day. You wanted him to fight you, not to immediately give in and get it cut.
You’re making dinner tonight for the first time since your little one-sided war started. You already know how it’s going to go when he gets home.
He’s going to glance at the pot of stew about a hundred times— thinking you won’t notice, because he thinks he’s slick. Then from across the room, in the most pathetic voice, he’ll ask, “can I have some?”
You’ll probably end up having to fight back snarky remark, like, “I made an entire pot of it, what do you think?”
You get about another hour of tranquility, before Sadness walks in with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The ones you had were starting to wilt. You really shouldn’t have looked at him when you did, it was right when he looked away from the pot to look at you, and he looked like he wanted to give you the damn flowers.
And of course they were prettier than normal.
“I can change the old flowers out,” he says, walking through the kitchen to find the vase.
Why can’t he just give you the flowers? He acts like you’re going to snatch them out of his hands and start beating him with them. You close your eyes and sigh, erasing the image of petals flying all around the room, while you continue to whack the stems against a certain individual from your mind.
You were just being mean at this point.
“I can do it,” you murmur, sounding as neutral as possible as you begin to walk up to him.
“You sure?” he ends up asking, shocked that you even responded to him. It wasn't rude either.
“Yeah.” You plucked them out of his hand, not at all meaning to do that. He was just lagging and not letting them go. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs back.
He doesn’t stay around for too long, but comes right back out after his shower to find you curled up on the couch, reading a book. You didn’t take your eyes off the page when he first came back. You didn’t do it once in the thirty minutes he spent loitering in the living room, trying to make himself look busy while periodically moving some random object around.
Eventually, the sound of random objects moving around in the background gets replaced by a throat being cleared, and thank god he only did it once, because you would’ve lost it. Instead, he finally spoke up. “What’d you make today?”
“Stew,” you say, holding yourself back from laughing because you were right. You let some silence between you two drag out before you speak up again, after realizing you really didn’t want him asking for permission to eat. “You can have some if you want.”
“Do you want a bowl?” he doesn’t hesitate to ask, as if he knew you were already going to tell him he could have some.
“No, I’m fine,” you hum, turning to the next page in your book. “I’m still full from earlier.”
“Alright,” he mumbles, walking back into the kitchen. You can hear the drawer open and spoons clanking against one another as he grabs one. Microwaved buttons being pushed, then beeping a couple minutes later letting him know his food was warm. His heavy footsteps grow louder as he walks past the dining room table to enter the living room again. “Is the T.V gonna distract you?”
“No,” you say with a tinge of regret, he already knew how easy it was for you to drown out noise. It comes in handy, especially when he’s watching some sports game you know nothing about. It makes you wonder how many serial killers tune in to watch the FIFA World Cop.
You currently know of one, and he’s sitting slightly off-center on the couch, closer to your side instead of the other, that was completely empty. You start to reevaluate just how problematic you are when you find yourself getting irritated at him for it— you were just mad about how cautious he’s been around you.
“What are you doing?” you start to complain the moment you feel his big arms scoop you up, and then he takes your seat while setting you down on his lap. “I was sitting here!”
“And now you’re sitting on my lap,” he says, still keeping his eyes on the game. “Go back to reading your book.”
“Can’t fuckin’ stand you sometimes,” you murmur under your breath, trying to find the page you were on, while he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against his chest.
“Stop talking,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.
You let out an annoyed sigh, but didn't say anything else, figuring this was the closest thing you were going to get in terms of what you wanted out of him. You got your apology too, shortly after you put your book down and he noticed you staring at the screen. Three separate apologies actually— one for trying to say you were ungrateful, one for making fun of the $80, one for accusing you of wanting to cheat on him.
You really only cared about the last one. That one that actually struck a nerve, having him compare you to his last relationship and all. Which is silly, it was just his go-to sob story that he used to make his behavior seem more normal. It’s easier to forgive someone that got cheated on, rather than someone who just wanted to straight up control you. Sometimes you wonder if that ex-girlfriend is even real.
Real or not— you were not going to let him accuse you of being a person that was capable of cheating. You didn’t want to hear about her again, either.
And honestly, you doubt you ever will with Sukuna’s reaction to you not taking the job in the end.
He actually felt bad. Asked you when your first day was going to be and all, only for you to shrug and say you turned it down. When he asked you why?
“I mean… it’s not like you need random gifts,” you barely explained, all while you watched him experience the consequences of his own actions through his own guilt. “I guess you were right. I have the card, I can always just use it if you really need one, but I doubt it.”
It could’ve been worded differently, but the goal was to twist the knife… and shove it in a little further. You don’t even care about working at the flower shop anymore, honestly. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future, where he will have to pretend he’s happy for you.
You are satisfied.
Sukuna is not.
He eventually starts to get handsy with you. You’re able to ignore it for a while, but then he starts messing with the waistband of your shorts. Tracing his fingers around the stitching, pulling them back and letting go so it smacks against your skin. You flip your head around to look at him after the loudest one.
“What?” he smirks and does it again, ignoring the pout on your face, “I can’t play with your shorts anymore?”
“You’re waiting to stick your hands in them,” you mumble, squirming in his lap, trying not to think about the hard bulge pressed against your ass.
“Yeah, they’re cold,” he chuckles, kissing the back of your neck.
You let out a disappointed sigh, trying to not let him affect you as he continues to trail kisses along your shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re actually trying to have sex with me right now.”
“I’m trying to make it up to you,” he hums, giving your thigh a light squeeze. “I don’t have to fuck you for that.”
“You don’t deserve anything right now,” you let out a little laugh, feeling his other arm wrap around your waist a little tighter.
“You deserve something though,” his fingers start to trace around your waistband again. “C’mon, let me get these off you,” he murmurs, hooking a finger around them.
A small hum escapes you while he continues to kiss on the back of your neck. It’s not quite a yes, but he notices the way your thighs start to clench together and grins.
“Kuna..” You let out a breathy laugh while he pulls you up off his lap and has you lay down on the couch for him.
“You’re alright,” he purrs, pulling your shorts and panties off with a satisfied hum, tossing them off to the side somewhere. “Just let me eat your pussy for a little bit.”
The whole time, you're way too giddy for someone that still hated him an hour before, but you’re already forgetting about it the moment he’s pulling your thighs apart and putting his head in between them.
“Fuckin’ missed being here,” he murmurs, taking his time leaving a trail of kisses up your inner thighs. You’re already holding your breath from each wet smack his lips leave, the closer he gets the harder you find it to keep still.
Then he reaches your clit and slowly drags his tongue over it, pulling a soft moan out of you. “Bet you missed this too, huh?” He drags his tongue over it again, and again, watching the way your eyes start to glaze over with each harsh flick.
“Mhm— oh fuck,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to swipe his tongue over your sensitive clit. “feels so good.”
“Yeah, you like that?” he hums, spreading you open with his thumbs and pressing his tongue flat against your entrance, dragging a long stripe through your folds. “Can’t believe you almost didn’t want this.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a dick,” you murmur.
“I know,” he licks another long stripe before lapping at your clit again, “m’sorry, baby.”
He wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before you even get a chance to respond, groaning while he sucks and flicks his tongue over it. He’s not even in a rush right now and he’s already hearing all the pretty little sounds you make whenever he gets his mouth on you.
So he goes faster.
Pulling back with a lewd pop, he grabs on to the back of your thighs and pins them to your chest. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy, I swear,” he hums, then buries his face back into your cunt, like he was starving.
He’s dragging his tongue up and down your folds, making your moans grow higher in pitch until you're whining for him.
“Oh my god–” your nails start digging into his scalp and he just groans, “Sukuna— f-fuck–”
“Yeah— keep crying my name like that,” he rasps against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Who else could get you like this? Hm?”
“No one,” you whine, feeling the grip on your thighs grow tighter. “Only— fuck— only you.”
“That’s right,” he grins against you, “fuckin’ love this pussy.” He gives you one last lick before latching onto your clit, making you nearly squeal from the way he starts to harshly suck on it.
“M’gonna cum,” your hips stutter and legs start to tremble under his hold, “you’re gonna make me cum.”
“Cum then,” he rasps in between the obscene slurping noises he’s making, “let go for me, baby.”
Your legs try to push back on the iron grip he has on them as pressure continues to build up, faster. “Oh my god— baby, please,” you begin to babble as he continues to work you with that tongue of his, until you’re gasping and crying out his name from the way the orgasm rips right through you.
You start gushing around him and he just groans into your pussy while drinking it up.
“Thaaat’s it,” he rasp, tongue still working you but coming to a slow. “Fuckin’ love how hard you cum for me.”
“That was so good,” you choke out, trying to catch your breath as he licks you through the come down.
“I know,” he murmurs in satisfaction, as smug as ever, giving your clit one last kiss before pulling back and admiring how much of a mess you look. “I’m just getting started, too.”
—
Car shops were gross.
There’s grease everywhere. The smell of smoke and gasoline clung to the walls. You could be flipping through a brand new manual and you’d still somehow get this weird dusty, black residue on the tips of your fingers. And when you go to wash it off, you’d end up having to wash your hands again because that same residue is stuck in the crevices of the faucet turner.
You can’t think of a time where you’ve visited and haven’t genuinely asked yourself, “why?”
Sukuna’s well aware of it and thinks it’s cute, which is why he still continues to bring you here. He doesn’t care for cute things. You’re pretty sure he likes seeing you with grease or dust stuck to you. He makes you answer the phone while you’re there too, and you’re almost certain he thinks of you as his receptionist that he fucks during his lunch breaks.
“Ryo-motive– how can I help you? Mhm. Oh– I’m so sorry to hear that! Here, let me check the schedule– see which dates we can get you taken care of.”
The customer on the other end hears you flipping through papers, then eventually hears a very frustrated sigh, as if you ran into an issue that’s been going on for way too long.
“It looks like we’re fully booked, I’m sorry. Ugh, trust me, I know. This sounds pretty urgent though. There’s another auto shop just two towns over that I’m pretty familiar with— yeah, mhm— yeah, highly recommend— absolutely, the name is Six-Eye’s Auto Service. Yeah, of course! Car troubles are the worst. The sooner you get it checked out, the better. Mhm. Aw yeah, you too! Haha, you take care now. Bye.”
There were plenty of openings for this week. She probably would’ve been able to come today, honestly. You made up for it by giving her a good recommendation though. That Six-Eyes guy should really cut you a check for all the business you’ve sent him.
Good thing Sukuna doesn’t pay you to answer the phones— you are one shitty receptionist. He’d probably kill you if he found out, but you try to convince yourself it’s for the best. You obviously can’t stop all customers from making advances towards him, but can you blame a girl for wanting to protect herself from that sight?
That is not something you want to see.
He wouldn’t want to see it either, because on the off chance that you saw a customer making a move on Sukuna, there was a 100% guarantee that you’d be going to jail right after.
You lay back in the creaky chair and let out a bored sigh. Tapping your fingers on the arm rests as you look around the small office, eyes eventually landing to the window looking into the open garage. Sukuna’s under some car, probably in his own little world as he worked on whatever problem it had.
It’s just him that works here. You don’t know how he does it all on his own, but he manages everything pretty well. He likes it that way too. Every day’s technically a slow day with how he works, taking his time, making sure he gets the job done right so his customers can justify the insane prices he charges. It’s actually quite peaceful for him.
It was about another hour until he decided to call it a day, knowing he’d be there for another few hours if he moved on to the next car. Locking the place up doesn’t take too long, all he really has to do is wipe off whatever tools he used and close the doors. Maybe take the trash out if it was full. Usually he’d check his voicemail, but forgets it since he put you to work today.
“I’m done,” he mutters, not really paying attention when he opens the door to the office and steps in, “you ready to g–”
You look up from your phone when his voice gets caught in his throat, and you wouldn’t say he looked nervous or anything, but his brain was definitely going into overdrive as he looked right past your head.
You ignored it.
“Hm? Yeah, I’m starting to get hungry, too,” you say, pushing yourself off the chair and throwing your purse over your shoulder.
“Yeah.. me too,” he sounds more distant when he responds, eyes tracing back to you as you start walking up to him.
“You look so tired, baby,” you soothe, placing your hands on his chest and giving him a kiss, softly humming into it. “Got everything locked up?”
“Mhm,” he still looks distracted, but still wraps an arm around your waist, leading you out of the office.
There’s a light trembling in his hand as he locks the door to the office shut, but you pretend not to notice it. “Wanna just go to that diner by the house?” you ask, not really in the mood to cook tonight. He didn’t look like he wanted to wait either.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he murmurs, walking back to the car with you following suit.
He’s quiet for those first couple minutes, grinding his jaw as he tries to focus on the road, but eventually realized you’d start questioning him if he didn’t say anything soon.
“Hey, uh– I forgot to ask,” Sukuna briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at you, trying to be very careful with his wording. “Did you see a rag in the office? I used it to wipe a bunch of gunk off this guys engine this morning and I can’t find it— been worried about it fuckin’ up one of the shelves.”
You look dumbfounded by the question, grimacing before coming up with a smart ass response. “You mean the ones you throw in the corner?”
“No, I checked. Didn’t toss it in there.”
“Hm. I mean, maybe,” you say casually.
“Maybe?” the grip he has on the steering wheel tightens as he forces out a sigh. Why the hell would you say that? “You either saw it or you didn’t.”
“I don’t really don’t know— probably,” you shrug before going back on your phone, “There’s dirty rags all over the shop. I don’t pay attention.”
“We’re talking about my office right now though. Not the shop,” he tries to explain, doing a bad job at hiding the growing frustration in his voice. “I’m really not trying to fuck up the furniture right now. Everything’s on its last leg.”
“And I’m saying, I don’t know,” you say it slowly for him, annoyed that he’s even asking about towels in the first place— it’s not like you work there. “You should’ve told me earlier. I would’ve tried to find it for you so we wouldn’t be spending the car ride back playing I Spy from memory.”
He lets out a sigh and leans back in his seat, shifting the gears. You’re on your phone, and you clearly do not care about anything in that office, so he doesn’t hold his breath waiting for you to say or do anything out of the ordinary.
“M’sorry,” he reaches out and places a hand on your thigh, “I should’ve dealt with that right after the guy left.”
“I know,” you boredly say, still on your phone, “Should’ve dealt with that furniture years ago, too. That stupid desk is gonna randomly crumble away one day, it’s so old.”
“Yeah?” he snorts, giving you a light squeeze, “Will that make you stop talking so much shit about it?”
“Maybe. It’s so depressing in there.”
“Mmm— I’ll sprinkle some holy water in there for you.”
“Bring in a priest to bless it at this point,” you laugh with him, despite being dead serious.
The whole place needs spiritual cleaning of some sorts.
You know exactly which rag he was asking you about. It was you who put it up on the shelf behind you for him to see, after all.
Who knew how many more bloody rags were in that shop.
synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: 4k words today!! bit of a time skip, they've been dating for around 8-11 months rn, which means we also get to see their toxic traits YAY. also, if you've read this in the past, i combined the first two chapters bc it just read better imo
m.list | part one | part two | part three
“Happy birthday, Yuji!” you say to the little boy excitedly.
The now 6 year old’s already running up to you with his arms out. “Thank you!”
Sukuna’s trailing right behind you with a giant wrapped present in hand, sporting his usual broody expression, even though he himself is happy to be here. He just hates showing it.
“Is that my present?” Yuji looks up to him and asks, just barely containing his excitement.
“Yeah,” Sukuna says, crouching down to hand it to the kid, then ruffling his already unruly hair. “Happy birthday, little man.”
“Thank you!” he squeals, grabbing the present that’s half his size and turning to his father, Jin. “Daddy, look!”
“I know,” the kinder twin smiles, “I wonder what your uncle got you this year.”
“I hope it’s a car!”
Sukuna rolls his eyes, he should be grateful he got a fucking gift anyways. Imagine if he didn’t get the kid a toy fire truck?
Well, you, not him. He doesn’t exactly have the patience to go to a toy store, being surrounded by a bunch of snot-nosed brats, whining to their mothers which toys they wanted, so he sent you there instead.
And had you wrap the box. He doesn’t have much patience for that either.
Jin and Kaori decided to have a small get together for Yuji’s birthday this year, only inviting you, Sukuna, Wasuke, and Yuji’s friend from school, Megumi. It went by so fast and with the fourth addition to their family, an entire party was just too much to handle at the moment. Yuji didn’t seem to mind, he was happy enough with his cake and presents today.
The kid pretty much did his own thing with Megumi the entire time, meanwhile the adults, along with a 6 month old, stayed at the table chatting and catching up with each other.
Jin and Kaori are obviously tired. Yuji wasn’t a bad kid, but definitely a lot. Add a baby into the mix and they had their hands full.
Wasuke on the other hand has been loving his life, being retired and all. He’ll help out with Yuji and the baby once in a while, but aside from that, life has been easy. At one point you asked if he ever missed the shop, to which he laughed and said, “fuck no”. Very expected from a man that has worked for nearly 50 years.
“Do you want kids?” Kaori turns to you and asks.
The question came from a good place, you’ve been holding the baby boy in your arms for a few minutes now, squishing his cheeks and making silly faces at him. But even if she was just curious, you can feel Sukuna tense up from it. It doesn’t come as a surprise, he’s never expressed wanting a kid, and neither have you.
You two have been together for 8 months. He still doesn’t know that you know about his little secret either.
You let out a small laugh, obviously flustered by the subject. You look down at the kid, thinking about how you and Sukuna would probably mess him up if you had been his parents instead.
You know who you are. Not to mention Sukuna and his little… hobby.
“One day,” you softly say, wiggling the finger he’s holding on to.
Sukunas never really entertained that thought honestly, but for a split second, he does. It’s hard not to after seeing how good you are with his nephews. Jin always talks about how kids change you in ways that make you want to be a better person, and maybe he’s right.
Maybe coming home to you and a chubby little baby would make him better. At least make him want to be.
You all eventually move on to a different subject, except for him, who spends the rest of the day thinking about it.
Up until you two are finally home and he has your face smushed against the mattress, making you arch your back some more so he could fuck himself deeper into you, as if he wasn’t already deep enough.
“Never heard you talking about kids until today.” The words just stumble out as he continues to pound into your messy cunt, watching the creamy ring around the base of his cock grow thicker each time he drives his hips forward. “Is that what you want? A baby?”
“Fuck– y-yeah, I do.”
You don’t think much of it. You can’t. Not with how he has you at the moment— pinned down, unable to control the little noises he pulls out of you each time you feel the head of his cock hit your sweet spot.
His breathing grows more ragged, smirking at the fucked out expression on your face, nearly drooling on the sheets from how dumb he has you.
“Yeah? You want me to give you a baby?” he asks, voice rough yet restrained as he slows down, letting up on some of the weight he has on you. You softly hum while he turns you around, having you lie on your back and pinning your knees to your chest.
He slowly runs his tip through your sopping folds, leaving you to clench around nothing while he starts to taunt you. “C’mon, princess. Use your words,” he murmurs, taking pleasure in how nervous the question makes you. “Unless you want someone else to give you one.”
That triggered you.
You did a good enough job at hiding it, but there was still a change. It was subtle— from being shy, to looking a little more sure of yourself.
You’re aware that it was him who teased you about finding someone else, but thinking about Sukuna having children with someone else couldn’t be helped. You couldn’t help the extreme reaction you felt from that thought either.
But, it wasn’t fucking happening, so you released that hatred fairly quickly.
He obviously doesn’t realize that, and thinks what he sees in your eyes is love. And yeah, you do love him, but you are also unfortunately very good at hiding certain parts of yourself. Most people looked more scary when eyeing their possessions— they loved the control they had over the object, rather than the object itself.
Knowing that there was still a little bit of light in your eyes when you looked at him was a reminder that you haven’t fully gone off the deep end.
“I only want one if it’s from you,” you softly laugh and pull him in for a kiss.
He looked more amused than flattered by your answer— eyes tracing over your naked body that was splayed out underneath him, ready for him to have his way with.
“Watch what you say to me,” he warns you in a low tone, going straight to your core rather than scaring you off. “Don’t want that smart mouth of yours being the reason why you end up getting something you aren’t ready for.”
“I know,” you hum in response, not at all bothered by his. “I was just answering your question, babe.”
“Right,” he suppresses a laugh, being the one to lean forward this time.
He’s rough when he kisses you, groaning into your mouth, just barely controlling himself. Messy, too. Grabbing your jaw as he swirled his tongue around yours, biting your lip, enjoying how there’d be a string of saliva between you whenever he pulled back.
His lips begin to trail down to your neck and chest, littering you with little love bites, before pulling a soft moan out of you as he slowly licks a stripe up your neck.
“So sensitive,” he murmurs in your ear, you can feel him smiling against it as he starts rubbing the head of his cock over your slit again. “You whine like that when you’re getting your pussy licked too.”
“I can’t help it, don’t be mean,” you pout, barely able to argue back from the way he teases and toys with you.
“You can’t help moaning like a slut when someone’s near your neck?”
“No,” you whine, starting to grow impatient with him. “Just feels good coming from you.”
“I know,” he hums, “that’s why I do it.”
He liked corrupting you, he wanted to ruin you, and he knew you liked it. So he threw your legs over his shoulders and did just that.
He watches the way your eyebrows pinch and lips part as he pushes in. How your eyes slowly glaze over from the stretch of his cock and how deep he gets. And when he’s deep enough, he grabs the back of your head, making you look down as he starts to move.
“Fuckin’ look at yourself right now,” he murmurs, shameless in the way he wanted you to watch with him, as if he wanted you to remember the sight of him stretching you open, followed by the wet schlick every time he drew his hips back from how fucking wet you were. “I must make you feel really good then, don’t I?”
“Mhm— always.”
The extra praise makes him go deeper, like he’s rewarding you. In turn he gets one of those breathy little moans he loves hearing from you and you swear you feel his dick jump because of it.
“That’s it,” he rasps, leaning forward, putting you in a full blown mating press. “Keep making those pretty little noises for me.”
Each thrust starts to become rougher than the last. Your breathing starts to pick up, along with the sound of his hips pounding against your ass. The entire time he keeps you folded underneath him, pulling one orgasm after another out of you. All you can think of is the mind-numbing glide of his thick cock, and how he works in and out of you like it’s nothing.
It is nothing to him.
Even when you start to claw at his back and cry out his name, overwhelmed by how hard he’s making you cum, he’s above you, talking you through it with a smug grin on his face. He never thinks to let up.
Towards the end, he grabs your hips and lifts you up a bit, thinking the new angle would make it easier for him to keep hitting all the spots that made your toes curl. And it works. You have no idea how or why, all you know is that he had you squealing the moment he started thrusting again, while the lewd squelch between you two grew even louder.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, feeling his grip on your hips tighten, “fuck– please– don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”
“I won’t,” he rasps. He’s so fucking close, but determined to get one more out of you, so he goes faster, pulling your hips back to meet each thrust. He hears a little whimper and looks up to see you covering your mouth, and curses a little under his breath. “It’s just one more, can you do that?”
“I– yeah,”
He doesn’t stop, but he has a habit of growing a little softer towards you right when he’s about to finish, so he continues to stare at you for a little longer. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, “just a lot.”
“I know, baby,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb over your skin, “breathe for me– there you go– just let me fuck you, you know you love this shit.”
“I really do,” you let out a breathy sigh, unknowingly clenching around him even more than you already were as you began to babble at him. “You always fuck me so good– god and your dick– always making me cum so hard with it.”
And that pretty much does it for him.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” he suddenly groans, thrusts starting to grow sloppy, “keep talkin’ to me like that.”
“I’m always thinking about it too, I get so lonely when you’re gone.”
“Yeah? You ever think about me while playing with yourself?”
“Everytime.”
“Fuck— that’s hot,” he groans again, feeling the pressure begin to build up, “you’re probably thinking about me cumming inside you right now, huh?”
“Mhm,” you frantically nod, nearly gasping for air, overstimulated yet somehow still needy. “I– fuck– want you to cum inside me so bad.”
“Yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?”
“Yes,” you continue to pant, “please.”
You were too gone to catch what he murmured under his breath. All you heard were the deep groans that came out of him as he started to pump you full with hot spurts of cum. It was more than usual, with some starting to spill out and making a mess while he took his time slowly fucking the last of it into you.
—
You don’t even remember falling asleep that night. You doubt he remembered either. The topic about having a baby never came up again, and you both chalked it up to being some mild form of a breeding kink that may have been unlocked that night.
There was a part of you that worried about things being a bit awkward after, but he was his usual self in the morning. Maybe even better, honestly. You became closer, more intimate the following months.
Sukuna felt lighter almost. Before, you’d describe him as someone that walked through life with a little storm cloud above his head, and now it’s just… gone. So are his nightmares.
It’s hard to be realistic with yourself, but you try to be with others. Even Sukuna. You always told yourself from the jump not to get your hopes up with him, but you might just be wrong this time around. He hasn’t killed anyone in almost 3 months— you know because you check his little polaroid stack ever so often.
It wasn’t, and shouldn’t, be considered an accomplishment, but you loved him— of course you felt proud after realizing that. If only you could actually celebrate it with him. Too bad this was one of the things you had to take to the grave. There was no way in hell you were going to ever confront him, you didn’t wanna get killed.
You’ve found little ways around it, though.
When the two month mark hit, you offered to ride him from start to finish. You don’t think you’ll do that again. Like, ever. It went on for two whole hours. The only reason why you went with something sex related was because you didn’t have a job and it felt disingenuous getting him something with his own money.
At least for a gift like that.
Any other day, you would’ve run up his credit card bill like nobody's fucking business. It did make you realize you miss having your own money, though. You obviously weren’t looking to pay the bills or groceries, but you did like the thought of having a little bit of pocket money. For little stuff, like getting Sukuna presents, or getting yourself those little fancy pastries they have downtown.
So, after doing a little job search, you found yourself a part time job at a cute little flower shop just a couple blocks away. You had your own car, but the thought of walking to work sounded fun.
All there’s left to do is to tell your boyfriend about it, because he has no idea you even wanted to get a job in the first place.
You don’t know why you kept it from him.
In your defense, it took you less than four days to find one that fit your needs. It all happened so fast! All that matters is you’re letting him know tonight, over pasta and wine. Probably after you get at least a glass in him.
—
“What the fuck would you get a job for?” He’s looking at you like he wants to skin you alive, and that’s after two glasses of wine. “Do you not realize how many people would kill to have a life like yours? You live in a nice house, you have a car, you don’t have to pay for anything. You even have your own credit card that you don’t have to pay for!” He then lets out a bitter laugh, “Is that not enough for you?”
You take a moment to answer that. You kind of stopped listening to him after he mentioned that there were people that would kill for a life like yours— acting all righteous when you know he’s killed people for less. You really wish his secret wasn’t a secret, because that would be the easiest way to shut him up right now.
You take a deep breath, then take a sip of wine, and then really think about how you were going to respond to all of that, because you really don’t want to have a fight with him tonight. You don’t want to fight with him at all!
“Honey,” you sigh, setting your glass of wine down. “Working at a flower shop, for 8 hours a week, doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful for my life,” you end up laughing at how ridiculous of a thought that is. “I mean– it’s a flower shop, run by a little old lady. Think of it as like, volunteer work, or something.”
Your response seems to piss him off even more, he’s looking at you with complete and utter disgust right now.
“You’re deflecting,” he ends up accusing you, and he’s actually serious right now.
“No I’m not?!” you argue back, “how is that deflecting when I’m literally telling you that those two things have nothing to do with each other?”
“Because you completely disregarded all the shit that I said.” He leans back in his seat and raises his voice, all while hurling a bunch of random hand gestures your way because he talks with his hands when he’s angry. “You didn’t even answer my question when I asked what the fuck do you need a job for!”
“To get out of the house for a little bit while you’re at work!” you remind him, knowing he knows how much you start to miss him when he’s away. “And what’s wrong with a little bit of pocket money?”
He bursts out laughing. “You said it was 8 hours a week, at minimum wage. What the FUCK are you gonna do with $80? Do you know how much money you spend on that fuckin’ card?”
“I don’t know!” and quite frankly, you don’t care. “Why is it such a big deal anyways?! It’s not like you’ll be around to miss me!”
“Don’t try to turn this shit around on me, baby. I’m not the one making dumbass decisions.”
“IT’S NOT DUMB!”
The room vibrated from how loud you screamed at him. It didn’t startle him, but it definitely startled you. You didn’t mean to blow up like that, but he was rude and condescending from the start, and you couldn’t take it anymore. It was you who watched your words at first, it was also you who watched your tone. Then there was Sukuna, who blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.
It’s been years since you’ve lost your temper, but the guilt never fails to kick in just moments after. It felt more familiar to you than the man sitting across the table. And that’s not to say he’s closer to a stranger right now, Sukuna just isn’t something that has loomed over you for a majority of your life now. You hate it.
“I’m sor–”
“Be honest,” he cuts you off, there’s a look in his eyes that definitely made him feel like a stranger now, “are you cheating on me?”
Your entire expression drops at the question, and honestly, you’re offended that he’d even ask. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
“Yeah, I am,” he says, resting his elbows over the table. You swear he starts studying all your movements and mannerisms right after, trying to figure out if you were actually telling him the truth. “Who knows, maybe you’re just planning it right now. You keep complaining about being lonely and shit— a part time job sounds like a good cover to go out and get some dick while I’m at work.”
It’s silent again after that, and you’re just left looking right through him.
The words that came out of his mouth made your stomach drop. They hurt— being accused of cheating, and the fact that he’d think you’d actually ruin your relationship all for “some dick”. Not to mention that he’s looking at you, as if they were all true.
How could he? You’ve never given him a reason to think that you’d ever do that.
“See? You can’t even answer,” he remarks, as if it were something he has been right about all along.
It makes your eyes begin to well up with tears. Your nose starts to burn, you try not to sniffle, but you’re eventually forced to because you didn’t want him to see tears and snot. You felt bad enough.
You begin to wipe your tears, trying to say something. The first attempt was immediately cut off by a hiccup. The second attempt, your voice cracked, but you ultimately decided to keep going, knowing the sooner you did it, the sooner you could leave.
“I would never try to hurt you like that,” you say through a strained voice, trying your best to stop your bottom lip from quivering. You’re not even looking at him anymore, so you missed the chance to see the remorse in his eyes before he decided to hide it. “I’m sorry you got cheated on, and I know this isn’t the best time to bring it up, but the difference between me and her is that I’d never even think to do something like that to you, let alone do it. So don’t you ever insult me by comparing me to someone like that again, because I actually think about you. That $80 you made fun of? It was supposed to go towards whatever stupid gifts I wanted to buy you because I felt guilty going out and buying you a gift with your own money, and maybe something for myself, like a fucking pastry or something.”
Your tears have dried up at this point from how mad you ended up getting while explaining yourself. The roles have sort of switched, it’s you that ends up staring at him, while he’s leaning over the table, dragging a hand down his face, realizing how bad he fucked up.
An apology from him was the last thing you wanted to hear right now, whether it was sincere or not. You just wanted to get away from him, so you got up from the dining room table first.
“Wait,” he murmurs, letting out a defeated sigh before you could walk away from your seat.
“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“What? No,” he says, turning his head toward you.
“No. I don’t wanna sleep next to you tonight,” you respond, pushing your chair into the table and bringing your dishes to the sink.
“Just take the bed then,” he mumbles, trying to not sound as defeated as he felt. “It’s your bed, too.”
“No,” you repeat yourself, as you finish rinsing your dish and load it in the dishwasher. “I don’t wanna sleep on something that smells like you right now either.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he scoffs, even though he’s 2.5 seconds away from begging. He doubts you’d even care if he did start begging, and it’s what keeps him from doing that.
You let out a dry, amused laugh, “If you can accuse me of cheating for wanting to work at a flower shop, then I sure as hell can refuse to sleep in a bed that reeks of the world’s biggest fucking asshole.”
He scratches the back of his head, growing more frustrated, wishing you’d just stop being stubborn and sit down so you could talk about this. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care,” you begin to walk out of the kitchen, but don’t forget to say one last thing to him before fully leaving. “I hope the ceiling light falls and hits your head in your sleep.”
notes: yk damn well reader caught his attitude from the start and avoided telling him about the whole "buying u gifts" thing until the end so she'd win the argument 😭
she's also very aware of the fact that his main reason for getting her to quit her job and live off his dime was bc he wanted to isolate her and all. so he's toxic, but she just does the opposite of what he expects her to do and he's at the point where he lw stopped bc his little tactics don't won't on her. if u remember last chapter, he made some backhanded comment about her being spoiled and spending all his money, he just never did it again because she liked laughed or smth and was proud of it LMAO
her feelings really were hurt tho when he accused her of cheating, like sir she's a gaslighter NOT a fucking monster ok
The Parasite | part one: better than i ever even knew //do it for the thrill of the rush
pairing: serial killer!sukuna x yandere!reader
synopsis: you never know what he's up to half of the time, you're too busy lounging around the house and spending his money to notice, just how he likes it. it probably wasn't the best idea to let curiosity get the best out you and pick the lock to the only drawer he keeps locked, but what you find inside doesn't make you love him any less.
cw: f!reader, toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love/chucky and tiffany vibes tbh lol, smut, some fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: hi 🫶🏻 welcome to part one, this cute little story will be 3-4 parts + an epilogue total. barely proof read btw I'll get to it in the morning, if you asked to be tagged but haven't gotten the notification, it's because I'm working on rn 👉🏻👈🏻
next chapter
You love men like Sukuna— calm, quiet, confident.
Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, quick to wedge space in between himself and others. But, he’s also thoughtful and detail oriented, you love that.
He’s perfect for you.
You weren’t expecting much when you grudgingly made your way into the beat up little auto shop on the other side of town. Even with the referral and the praise it received from a coworker, you still didn’t put too much trust into mechanics in general.
They’re greedy, adding on whatever service they could to rack up the bill at the very end. You go in wanting an oil change, then you leave thinking your engine’s just weeks away from blowing up if you don’t do such and such that same day.
A pang of regret had already hit you the moment you had awkwardly stepped foot into the space. There wasn’t even a receptionist or front desk to go to, just a dirty open garage with tools scattered everywhere and rock music thrumming in the background.
Then a low, almost irritated “can I help you” makes you nearly startle out of your skin. It wasn’t even a question with the way he said it, it was a demand. You were quick to turn around, just the sight of him alone was intimidating.
The tattoos, piercings, the height— he was beautiful.
He could also throw you over his shoulder in an instant and do god knows what to you. Your biggest mistake was not telling anyone where you were going.
And his footsteps, they were too quiet for someone with such an overwhelming presence. He could’ve stood behind you for a good ten minutes and you wouldn't have even known. Hell, with the amount of time that passed since you had arrived, he could’ve been.
Suppressing the part of you that instantly liked that about him was a task on its own, luckily he was used to women getting all giddy when they looked up at him.
There was more than just that slight interest in your eyes that day though, he just chose to brush it off. It’s something he’ll eventually look back on and regret, but for now, he was no better than you.
He carried an unimpressed demeanor, but it was easy to tell that’s just how he felt about life in general. A man with eyes as dull as his never had hopes or dreams to begin with, hence the rugged introduction.
“Oil leak,” you quietly said, trying your best to ignore the way he was staring you down. No longer unimpressed with you, he was more so amused with the way you can keep such a soft voice while holding eye contact with him. Zero faltering on your end, it was something new to him. “Unless that’s too much trouble.”
It came out sharper than you had intended, but you didn’t take it back. Something about the way he looked at you, it was giving… Sid Phillips looking for his next toy to snap in fucking half. You were annoyed enough that day. It didn’t matter how attractive he was, the last thing you needed was some mechanic being rude to you while draining your pockets.
He took his dear time answering you, slowly wiping his hands on some dirty rag, as if he wanted you to hear just how quiet his silence could be. It was deliberate and in your face, you could tell from the way he fought back a smile when you shifted in place, waiting for him to just say something already.
“Car’s out front?” He asked.
“Obviously.”
He chuckled and held his hand out, “keys— I’ll pull the car up for you.”
“‘Kay,” you mutter, pinching your keys and dropping them in his hand, downright refusing to touch his hand.
“Brat,” he muttered back as he turned around to walk away.
“Excuse me?” you held back a laugh at how easy it was for him to call you that.
“My office,” he said over his shoulder, “you can wait in there while I look at your car.”
“Right. Thanks.”
His office was just as run down as the rest of the garage— not that it was a surprise. The place hasn't ever seen a proper cleaning and probably never will. The door screeches when you push it open, the smell of cigarettes hits you the moment you do. There’s a calendar from fucking 2018 still pinned up and it’s hung above a rickety shelf that’s lined with a couple bottles of whiskey and a single coffee cup. It didn’t have a handle, it clearly broke off from what you can see, something you’ll never understand is how in the fuck someone would manage to do that.
But the fan? It’s in pristine condition— zero dust on the blades, doesn’t make that obnoxious cracking noise when turning. Why? Probably because it was for him and him only, not for his customers who he doesn’t seem to care much about.
It was the only thing that made you want to stay in the office. You couldn’t hate the guy too much for offering you a cool space when the heat outside was blistering.
“You got a lot more than just that oil leak that needs fixing, sweetheart,” he came in and said after 30 minutes, not missing the way your eyes rolled at his words.
That was the first time you’ve ever heard his laugh.
He likes them bratty, loves it when they fight back.
His face falls into a smirk after seeing the way you don’t try to hide your frustration at him, “here, I’ll tell you what.”
“What?” You mutter, pushing back the frown that’s fighting its way onto the surface.
“Let me take you out ‘n all the extra stuff’ll be on the house.”
Little did you know that the way you grabbed his jaw and stole a kiss from him is what saved your life— at least for the time being. Sukuna was the type that enjoyed playing with his food. And so were you, which was why you never complained that following weekend when he took you out.
It wasn’t a real date, at least not by your standards. He picked you up late, around 9 pm.
“Where to, Mr. Sukuna?” You said after buckling yourself into the passenger seat, breaking the ice almost immediately.
“It’s a secret,” he said rather darkly, adding a smile to make it sound more playful. “I know a place.”
The place he took you wasn’t fancy, it was some hole in the wall diner a couple towns over. It made you wonder if he was more comfortable in settings like that since his own shop was just as run down as the restaurant.
“Sooo,” you hummed, sipping on the stale coffee he insisted you’d like, “is this how you get girls to go out with you? Exchanging free services for dinner?”
A menacing grin slowly surfaces. “Worked out pretty well, no?”
You two grew interested in each within that first hour. The light hearted banter, his blatant flirting that was followed by whatever snarky comment you could come up with. The conversation would take a dark turn here and there, but never went too far given how you’d change it to something else.
Not that you were backtracking, you just genuinely didn’t care even though a part of him wanted you too.
In your eyes, was able to hold his own fairly well, except for that split second when you bursted out laughing after he just had to mention the recent disappearance in the area.
But we’ll go more into that a little later— the face he makes when you insult his work, that is.
He truly was annoyed, you should’ve been scared, but he can also appreciate someone with a sick sense of humor, even if you didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about.
It was cute.
He took you home late, you two had stayed up talking until 1:00 am. Maybe it was a good thing that he took you to that diner, no other place was open that late. Right before your hand reached for the door handle, he leaned in like he was going to give you a kiss goodnight.
What you did took him by surprise, beating him to it. Grabbing his jaw and kissing him like you meant it. Kissing him like you owned him.
He didn’t say a word after. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking at that moment, if he was thinking about anything at all. You ended up snapping him out of it, asking, "wanna come inside for a bit?"
"Yeah," he grinned. "I'd like that."
He thought he had the upper hand, some delusional part of him probably still thinks he has the upper hand now.
That whole date? The little run down diner, the way he smoothly ordered for you in a honeyed voice, the flirtation that might as well have been threats?
That was cute— like, actually.
It was like watching some dumb dog baring its teeth to a snake after already getting bit, completely unaware of the venom that was slowly mixing in with its blood. You were more than just bite.
Just like how he kept that nights destination a secret, you knew Sukuna had more of them, ones that were so much darker. It was in his mannerisms. You saw it in the way his fingers twitched when the waitress took too long to bring you your food. The way his eyes momentarily darkened when you pretended to zone out while he spoke to you in detail about something.
You two had spent that entire night pushing each other's buttons.
And luckily for you, he liked the way you kept up with him. He liked you.
Who knew you’d find someone so interesting in a beat up auto shop.
—
The first three months of dating Sukuna is an absolute whirlwind. Clouded by passion and long nights of him muttering filthy things in your ear, he was able to convince you to move in with him after just one month and by the end of the second, convinced you to quit your job and be a stay at home girlfriend.
He promised to take care of you and he delivered on it, making sure he gave you everything you asked for and never forgetting to tease you over how much of a spoiled brat you were. There's been times where he's tried to rub it in your face, but the way you'd giggle at his seriousness threw him off enough to drop the subject.
Despite how rough he is in bed with you, he’s overall gentle with you. No one would take Sukuna for a man that brought home flowers for his girlfriend, yet he does. He replaces them when the last bouquet is about to die too.
He listens to you with intent when you speak and his eyes soften while he does so. Not one word is lost with him, he remembers everything— every little detail, down to the expression you make when saying it.
Even when he thinks you’re still asleep he’s still kind, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead and murmuring how much of a sweet girl you are to himself before leaving for work.
He’s perfect— that’s the first thought that comes to mind when you’re met with the sight of him first thing in the morning. You always wake up an hour before him, spending that time basking in the silence and warmth of the sheets. Taking in his sharp features that somehow soften when he’s asleep, and vulnerable.
He’s at his most vulnerable whenever he has his nightmares, something you quickly came to learn about within the first month of dating. His breathing picks up whenever he's having one, he grows warmer than usual too, he’ll even sweat a little if it’s that bad. Sometimes you’ll reach out to hold him and he’ll lean into your touch when you do… you don’t tell him about it though. There’s a lot that you notice about him that you don’t mention, actually.
It’s better that way. He’s already stressed out enough as is, why would you add to it by making him weary of you too?
The thing about Sukuna and his nightmares, they get worse at certain times. Whatever he does outside of the home and life you share together haunts him— goes to show that one can never truly run away from their sins.
And what were his sins exactly? You’re not entirely sure. Definitely not cheating, you’d know. You’ve checked his clothes and car for hair strands or a faint whiff of perfume that didn’t belong to you. He was loyal, it was probably one of the only good things about him.
But that wasn’t good enough to keep you from poking around the house while he was gone. The thing about intuition is that you never look past it, that’s why you finally decided to see what was in his locked drawer today.
It was a good hiding spot, in the room he uses to keep all of his workout equipment, hidden in plain sight. He keeps all the other drawers unlocked, most people would stop at the second drawer and most likely wouldn’t check the one that was second to last, realizing it’s the only one locked.
The kicker? After finally picking into the lock with a hairpin, you’re met with the sight of bondage gear. Leather handcuffs, floggers, ball gags. Nothing he’s never used on you. Anyone else would’ve closed that drawer without further investigation and would’ve missed that the drawer had a false bottom.
What was under it was much more interesting to you.
The first thing that catches your eye is a pair of panties you’ve never worn around him before and lost before moving in with him.
It was the least worrying thing in that drawer.
The next was a bunch of cash and fake I.D’s banded together. You pocket some of the cash of course, enough to have a little fun with but not too much to where he’d notice. The way the bills were chaotically stacked and banded together told you he didn’t count them.
The next was a stack of polaroids of different people, some seemed to be in the active process of dying, but most were actually dead. All had notes on the back. Three of the people in the stack were people you recognized.
The first was the barista at the coffee shop you frequented. You two were on a first name basis before his passing, poor Suguru.
Note: “Stared at her ass like I wouldn’t notice.”
The second was your ex. You almost felt bad, maybe you shouldn’t have shared that much with him about Naoya, but then a smile quickly emerged after remembering how much of a dick he was to you during your year long relationship. Sukuna did the world a favor that day.
Note: “The jackass deserved it.”
And the last photo was of you while you were walking across a street. You remember when you wore that exact outfit, it was two days after your first date with him.
The note on the back?
“Keep her.”
Nice to see he thought of you as much as you thought of him that early on.
Sukuna comes home from work around 5:13, usually, sometimes there’ll be more traffic after work and it’ll add a few more minutes to his drive back home. Neither are bad— the perks of living close by and all.
He does have his late nights at the shop though. He never specifies what he does, nor do you ask, so he’s never actually lied to you. There have been nights where you’ve stayed up wondering what the hell he was out so late for, a couple brows raised here and there since he brings flowers or some other gifts on those nights. The polaroids ended up answering those questions.
Your plan now after finding out about his little secret?
Nothing.
What was there to do? Confront him? Turn him in? Ruin what you have with him?
Exactly.
It’s business as usual and Sukuna’s getting a steak dinner tonight. You made sure to get him an extra nice cut with that money you found in his secret drawer.
5:13 p.m, right as the clock strikes you hear the front door unlock, in comes Sukuna with his resting bitch face. The aroma of garlic and seared meat wipes the scowl off faster than usual, dropping his keys on the counter and making his way towards you.
“What’s the extra nice dinner for, hm?” He warmly asks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You didn’t do anything that’d get you in trouble did you?”
You giggle, if only he knew, “you always think I’m up to no good.”
“Yeah,” he smirks, “gotta keep an eye on you.”
“You don’t even try hiding it,” you say, turning around and leaning into a kiss. His grip on your waist tightens and it takes him a second to kiss you back, but he eventually does.
Pulling away and taking in the expression that was on his face made it hard keeping the little secret to yourself, he looked like you just shot him.
“Might as well just start saying you love me,” you eventually add, watching the blood drain back into his face. You gently rub his shoulders while watching him convince himself that he was just being paranoid, maybe you shouldn’t have come on that strong, especially since his last kill was just a few days ago, but you couldn’t help it. “You okay?”
“Hm?” He barely asks, snapping out of whatever thought process he was in. “...Yeah, I’m good. I’m gonna change outta these clothes before I eat.”
“Good idea.” You respond, brushing his hair back, something about it gives him reassurance.
Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say either, given how you noticed the slightest jolt in his step as he walked away, as if he were about to turn around and ask what you meant by that. You’re surprised he doesn’t, he’s more combative than this, for fun at that.
While flipping over the last steak, you make a mental note to maybe start saying more cryptic things to him whenever he gets on your nerves. It seems to do a great job at shutting him up. Might as well think about these things now since you were in it for the long run.
You shake the thought away though, knowing you just wanted to mess with him. You glance over at the set table with the new dinnerware and wine glasses you purchased using his credit card. Who knew you’d step into a domestic role so easily after Sukuna asked you to move in.
It’s something Naoya used to always get on your case for, which ultimately led to your nasty break up. He wanted a stay at home wife, a homemaker— you wanted none of that, with him. Guess it just took the right person to make you change your mind.
Sukuna lazily strolls back into the kitchen in a pair of grey sweats and a white tank top as you begin to plate the food. He’s back to smiling over the dinner you surprised him with.
You like him like this— happy and content. You’re convinced there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to keep things the way they are.
“Thanks for this,” he remembers to say, pulling you in to press a kiss on your temple. Your wording earlier almost made him forget his manners.
“You’re welcome baby,” you softly say, taking a seat on the chair he pulled out for you. “Wanted to spoil you a little since you work so hard.”
Sometimes he forgets it’s him who’s paying for, well, all of this. You do a really good job at that.
Sukuna momentarily thinks about last month's credit card bill and snorts, cutting into the steak. Medium rare— just how he likes it. It melts in your mouth and he savors it by chewing slowly. Though this time, he keeps his eyes on you, the expression on his face as unreadable as ever.
“You didn't... find anything weird today, did you?” he smoothly asks after a few bites.
You tilt your head, looking more amused than confused. “Weird? Like what?”
“I dunno,” he says, stabbing one of the roasted brussel sprouts with his fork a little harder than usual, “just thought you seemed kinda off when I first got back.”
You grin, sipping your wine. “Y’know… they say when someone accuses you of something, it’s usually them who did something wrong.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, sweet heart,” he chuckles, “just asking you a simple question.”
You sigh and set your glass down, “and I asked you what’s classified as weird, but you go straight to claiming I’m acting 'off'.”
He pauses entirely mid-cut, including his chewing. Is this really happening right now?
“I’m not claiming anything,” he mutters.
“You literally just claimed I was acting off for cooking you a nice fucking meal,” your voice hardly raises as you begin to argue. “You don’t see me asking these questions when you get home late and try to make me forget that with flowers.”
“I’m not— what the fuck?— I come back with fuckin’ flowers ‘cause I feel bad for working late, that’s why I bring them,” he tries to explain, but you’re already laughing at him.
“Yeah and I feel bad about how much you work!And now you’re saying I'm fucking weird for going out of my way to do something nice for you.”
“I didn’t fucking call you weird,” he raises his voice.
“Great, now I’m getting yelled at for defending myself.”
“There’s nothing to defend yourself over, I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” he repeats himself, throwing his arms out in frustration.
“Whatever Sukuna,” your voice cracks as you reach for the glass of wine and down the rest of its contents in one go.
“Are you seriously gonna cry right n—” he tries to ask, but his questions answered after seeing how glassy your eyes have gotten. “Babe, c’mon.”
You sniffle and take a deep breath, “Just forget about it. I’m being stupid right now.”
“No you’re not, I—” he responds, quite stunned at this point as he watches a singular tear trail down your cheek.
He stares at you with a look of shock and disbelief, brain having to go into overdrive over the ridiculousness of it all— as he should, honestly. You really didn’t mean to escalate the situation this much, it kind of just happened in the process of trying to change the subject. It doesn’t help that you’ve always been one for theatrics. But, it was either this, implying that he's cheating, or giggling like a freak over knowing about something he doesn't.
The latter would've just kept him up at night.
Note to self not do this too much, Sukuna’s not one to be underestimated. He’s smart and will eventually piece together that you’re toying with him… god forbid he finds out you so much as enjoy it.
“I’m not dealing with this right now,” you continue, getting up from the chair to leave, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He grumbles and pulls you to sit on his lap.
Getting you to sit on his lap was the easy part, getting you to look at him was a struggle on its own. You don’t fail to remind him how stubborn you could be when each plea to look at him was met with either a whiney “no” or straight up silence.
He thought making jokes would somehow lighten the mood. Bad idea. You teared up more and said something along the lines of “you don’t get it.”
At least that’s what he thinks. It was kinda hard to understand you with the light, shaky heaves after each word.
“Stop cryin’,” he mumbles softly, wiping your cheeks dry. “It’s been a long day, I didn’t know I was comin’ off as rude. I'm sorry, wasn’t tryna fight you.”
You take a deep breath, leaning your head against his chest. "I'm sorry too. I don't know what's gotten into me, just been missing you lately."
“You're good, I didn't know working overtime was starting to get to you,” he mutters, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Can't do much about my schedule, you want me to text you more updates or somethin’?”
“I don't wanna bother you while you’re working though,” you respond somewhat grudgingly.
“You’re not a bother,” he says, wrapping his arms around. “I don’t want you thinking I’m out doin’ shit I’m not supposed to do.”
“Fine,” you mutter, “keep bringing me flowers though, I like them.”
He chuckles, “greedy ass girl— keep cooking like this and I’ll give you all the flowers in the world.”
—
“No… no… no no no no, please! I have a family— I have a wife and children— please, don’t! I can pay you, you can even drag me to the nearest atm, just please d—”
His newest victim is suddenly cut off by a phone ringing— Sukuna’s phone to be exact. Did the hourly texts escalate to phone calls? You fucking bet.
It's keeps you happy though, so he doesn't mind them.
Sukuna pulls a knife out of his pocket and crouches down until he’s face to face with the trembling man, “make one sound and I’m gutting you like a fuckin’ fish, got it?”
As if he wasn’t already planning to do that in the first place for leaving a bad review of his shop over a year ago.
The man frantically nods, thinking the phone call somehow saved his life, especially after faintly hearing the voice on the other line. It sounded like a woman complaining, a wife or girlfriend perhaps?
Didn’t matter, it was something they had in common, his wife’s a bitch too. He could use it to somehow humanize himself, so Sukuna doesn’t fucking kill him.
“Where are you? You said you’d be home at 8,” you huff.
He said he’d be home around eight.
It’s also only 8:15, but he refrains from responding with that. He’d do just about anything to avoid fighting with you. You just burst out crying every time and the last thing he wants right now is feeling anything along the lines of guilt or remorse.
“I know, ‘m closing up the shop right now,” he says in response, closely eyeing victim number... he stopped counting a while ago.
“Kay’, hurry up, the foods gonna be cold,” you say. He can just see the little pout on your face, bringing a little smile to his face.
“Can’t have that now, can we?” he chuckles, as if there wasn't a bloody, battered man right before him, “I’ll be home soon, baby. Promise.”
Haruta, the man’s actual name, closely listens to the conversation. Holding on to any piece of information he could get, as if it were his life-line.
It was his lifeline, it’s all he had at this point.
But all he could get from the short interaction was that Sukuna is just a man trying to appease his girlfriend, a dog on a leash if you ask him.
That much is known when he stays on the phone for another minute or so, responding with only either mhm or of course, save for the pet names here and there.
“Alright, closin’ up right now,” Sukuna says warmly, “love you.”
He doesn’t look at the screen as he hangs up, and continues to look at Haruta. Except this time he’s looking at him as if it was his fault Sukuna got yelled at. He takes a look at the knife in his hand and contemplates if he should even use it, eventually tossing it aside after realizing he’d have to clean himself up afterwards.
“No wait,” Haruta chokes out as Sukuna reaches forward, “wait wait wait wait w—”
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
dailybridgerton
discoholicmusic
annaxmalina
titsay
stormborns
