taking satoru's dick for the first time in theory and in practice are two very different extremes. sure you'd felt him from grinding, from holding the weight of him in your palm under the sheets while you two were supposed to be 'watching a movie'. it felt doable for the most part—taking him.
you've heeded all his thinly veiled warnings long enough and tonight of all nights wasn't one where you two could exactly stop at just heavy petting. you'd even laughed at it beforehand, assured him that you could take him for the millionth time.
if you could slap your past self, you would. because now you're barely 2 minutes into him being inside of you. back spread on soft sheets, practically folded in half under satoru. legs slung over his shoulders, panting, practically vibrating from the effort of trying to get used to the sheer size of him.
"fuck—you gotta stop—" his fingers press harder into the undersides of your thighs where he has you held, hips rocking incrementally to get you adjusted to what he's given already. not even halfway in and you're already all noisy. "breathe for me, pretty? so I can give you the rest."
“t-the rest? ” you gasp, voice going embarrassingly high. it feels like he's been pushing in for ages now and now he's telling you that there's more? “that’s not all of it? are you sure?"
"i'm sure, trust me. just a little more." a bit more than a little, but you'd cross that bridge eventually. he presses a kiss to your knee—soft, lingering like he’s trying to ground both you and himself. "you said you could take it."
"i say a lot of things when I'm horny. you know—oh fuck—that!" you snap, voice breaking on the last word. "you're too big. this is all your fault, satoru."
"my fault?" he manages a huff despite the strain in his voice, brows knitted like he's the one struggling here. to be fair, he sort of is. "you said, and I quote—" his hips ease forward by an infinitesimal amount, just enough to have the bulb of him swabbing against your soft insides. it's enough for your jaw to go slack, toes curling near his ears. "—'please just fuck me already'. and to 'stop treating you like glass'." so here he is, not treating you like glass. not holding out on you. large hands press your thighs and knees closer to your chest, his body angled downward to drive into you with short, gentle thrusts.
"I don't even sound like that." you're clawing blindly at the bedding, airy sounds punching out of you like he's owed them.
"mhm. just breathe." he murmurs, voice rumbling low against your skin as he nudges deeper with the next roll of his hips—a slow, steady push, feeding you yet another inch. one hand leaves your thighs to slide up to your stomach, pressing in like he's trying to feel for himself there. "yeah...that's it, let me in.." the same hand settles just above where you're taking him to thumb at your arousal slick clit, your own darting to out the grab at his wrist. to no avail of course, since his thumb just keeps on moving in circle after circle.
“tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?” he whispers, hips tilting just a little deeper. new slick from his teasing helps, sliding deeper with ease. “that's right...all the way. you're doing so well."
it's soft, so sweet and encouraging that you're reaching a hand out to bring him closer to you by the back of his neck. "m'good, 'toru. you're fine."
you can't help but wonder how much more he has left to give, what kind of monstrous beast he's been hiding under his briefs. curiosity gets the better of you, eyes dropping to where you've yet to fully connect.
and boy, do you regret it almost instantly.
it's near obscene. inches of him glistening and buried, folds parted against his girth. even with how long he's been easing in (or how long it feels at least), there's still a gap. his gaze follows yours, nosing gently at your ankle, hand squeezing your thigh. "you okay?"
the glisten of his flesh, the taut flex of his abdomen like he's holding back...no, you're not okay in the slightest.
you can feel your core flutter involuntarily at the sight and god, he feels it too.
“oh fuck,” satoru's voice breaks, forehead tipping down to rest against your forehead. “baby, please don’t do that. i'll...this really won't last long.”
"oops, sorry. sorry."
the bits of soft pink that aren't inside inch in-in-in with every second that passing. it's barely anything left to give, yet, he's being so careful. too careful."
"holy fuck, just do—shit!"
you're arching clean off the bed with the way he suddenly, finally hilts himself inside. bare behind flush to his hips, groomed hairs at his base grazing against your skin.
he’s silent for a moment, breathing slow, forehead still dampened and pressed down against yours. "..okay, I have bad news."
you're a little drunk on him, just lucid enough to manage a small hm, nails scraping through the damp hair at his nape.
"there's...there's a high chance that I'll cum if I move."
even in your state, laughter breaks out of you, the heavy man above you flushing a soft pink from the highs of his cheeks up to his ears. murmuring something about it 'not being that funny' and him 'embarrassing himself here'.
"stay still then." you finally breathe when your laughter dies down just enough, smile all gentle up at him, lips brushing against the sharp point of his nose. "we'll just stay like this all night." the pain had properly eased into a dull, barely there ache at that point—more pleasure than any other feeling. with how he'd taken his time, it'd been almost inevitable.
"can't just not move," he replies through gritted teeth, hips shifting just a hair. enough for you both to feel the heavy drag, the way your walls clench instinctively. "god—I can't not move when you feel like that."
it's endearing in a way, very much flattering. your grin only widens, head lifting to angle your mouth against his with a firm kiss. "i'm close too if that makes you feel any better."
words meant to help only make him whine, throbbing inside you, hips beginning to rock slowly. "you are?"
"mhmm. very close." you let out a strangled sound when his hips angle just right and it's enough for him to give up on pacing himself. his weight crushes your thighs against your chest, pace building. "so just keep moving. please."
the sounds leaving you are a mix of 'ahh's' and calls of his name, all broken, all sending his hips into you a little faster. they stutter as he fucks into you with less and less finesse, 0 rhyme or rhythm just the need to see you cum for him like this. hips slapping against the back of your thighs, paced breaths dually filling the room. "you feel so good. taking me so well."
and when his thumb finds your clit again with those same, easy circles? you're a goner. "gonna cum--gonna- oh my god, keep doing that—" he finds that spot from before over and over again like there's a target stuck to it, leaky tip wedging itself right where you need it, pleasure mounting far too quickly. you're crying out at this point, hips angling up into his thrusts. so full it hurts in that perfect, dizzying way.
“fuck, you're gonna make me—”
“shut up and cum,” you choke out. “do it inside. pleaseplease—”
his entire body jolts, pace faltering. you feel him twitch deep inside you before it hits, his hips driving in and out hard—once, twice, and then he’s moaning into your mouth as he spills. he drags you down with him, pressure in your abdomen bursting, unfurling outwards with your release—his name still falling from your lips. helpless sounds that only spur the continued movement of his hips to draw out the pleasure.
you're both shaking, sucking in breaths of air greedily for moments after that. you're still folded like a pretzel, still crushed against his weight.
"that one doesn't count."
"agreed."
࣪ ִֶָ☾. a/n: ty for reading ⭑.ᐟ
๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ temp mlist: #sena's script ⏾ for all works ⭑.ᐟ
“i’m begging you- fuck—please? cmonnn i need you so bad.”
the crack of your ass was smothered in wetness from weeping precrum seeping out of the throbbing tip that was gliding up and down your crack. the salt of precum and sweat combined into a sloppy, slick cocktail, as choso rutted his curved cock against you. your could feel every ridge, every vein, every single time he shifted his hips.
up and down. up and down.
laying on his side, parallel to you was the pathetic mess of a (your) man, choso. spooning you like his life depended on it.
you never knew how you managed to end up in these situations every damn time. but choso knew his limits.
no penetration without direct, explicit consent.
he was also aware of the punishment he would have to endure if he broke this rule.
so here he was, pathetically thrusting into the crack of your ass where he created an embarrassing desperate mess.
the neediest words escaping his pretty mouth in whined whimpers, only to be straight up denied by you in a stern, humoured tone.
“mph- cmon baby, please??”
“no, cho.” you laugh softly.
“i’m begging you, please can i put it in— i need- shit i’m leaking everywhere.” he painfully whines, his voice broken and strained.
he ever so slightly rocks his hips forward seeking that ever so slight friction he need to soothe that buzzing throb between his legs. he was so fuckimg hard it physically hurt. he had been grinding against your bare, plump ass for the past 43 minutes to be exact, torturously edged by his insanely hot girlfriend who he cherished and loved oh so much.
he holds his heavy manhood at the base, slowly gliding it against your folds, only to his suprise, you’re just as turned on as he is.
you bite your plush lip as you look back at him, ready to sternly tell him off for even going near your dripping pussy.
but fuck, this man was going to be the death of you.
his midnight black hair was an unruly mess on his head, the odd strands clinging to the sweat beads his face was painted with. the feature that caught your attention the quickest were those pleading eyes. dark orbs staring back at you, lashes already wet, waterline pricked with fresh tears threatening to fall, begging for some sort of release. mouth slightly parted, brows furrowed, and the prettiest embarrassed blush dusted across his pale cheeks.
all you wanted to do was grab his stupid cheeks (which ones) and kiss them silly.
but we must stay strong sisters.
“just the tip. please my love? fuck-you’re wet too so—“
“choso baby i said no”.
as stern as you tried to be, your voice lacked authority. you couldn’t deny the fact that you were practically dripping. choso knew dry humping was your weak point the second you started dating, so here he was, sliding his pretty cock up and down your wet slit, with the slither of hope you would cave.
his moans and whimpers only grow louder, whispering quiet profanities and begs into your ear.
“please angel. i need you so bad.” is whimpered directly into your ear canal, his warm breath tickles the side of your face, sending direct shock waves right to your cunt. unfortunately those five words happen to be your breaking point.
“fine—“
before you can even finish getting your first syllable out, choso slips his needy cock so far into your pussy, immediately bottoming out as if he had lost control of his body. you audibly gasp before quickly slapping your palm over your mouth. that clearly wasn’t just the tip.
“fuuuck. knew you needed it too, sweetheart.”
you begin to mentally prepare yourself for his thrusts but he stills. cock buried to the hilt inside of your gripping cunt, but no movement. you look over your shoulder to be met with desperate frantic eyes, pupils blown. top teeth sunk into his bottom lip, trembling. this man was trembling, trying to hold back.
“permission. please- need permission.” he breathes out in shortened pants. each breath baited as he holds back, almost scaring you with how insanely feral this man looked.
“holy shit.. yeah cho, you have my permi—hey!”
you’re once again rudely interrupted by your gorgeous boyfriend, but this time not by his dick. this time, he pulls out, earning a soft whimper from the loss. he practically manhandles you by the hips, lifting you up and tossing you back onto the bed, but on your back.
choso grabs the thighs he’s worshipped many, many, times and pushes them right back against your chest. a sinister grin creeps onto his perverted little face as he admires you in the nastiest mating press he’s put you in.
he was so head over heels for you.
“stop staring. cmon already.. i gave u permission to fuck me.” you mumble up at him with a slight pout, a bit more needy than you anticipated.
he chuckles softly before lining himself up once again, and pushing himself in agonisingly slowly, smirking down at you when he sees your pleasured reaction.
“look who’s begging now, huh pretty girl?” he grins.
before you can put him in his place, he physically grabs your thighs and pulls your whole body down onto his cock. you grab the sheets as you let out a desperate moan at the same time as he does. he begins to pull out, eyes hyper focused on the strings of wetness connecting you to him, and it makes him fucking snap.
choso tightens his grip on your plush thighs, slamming into your cunt at an alarming rate. the obnoxious sound of saturated skin slapping against each other fills the bedroom, bouncing off the thin walls. a louder sound of grunts and animalistic noises also fill the room, most likely giving the neighbours a reason to file a complaint. the array of sounds escaping choso’s mouth make your back arch oh so sluttily off the bed.
this sight will never leave his mind. ever.
“shit ma- fuuuck y’feel better than i remember.” choso moans shamelessly as he impossibly picks up the speed as of which he was railing you at.
“yeah? you’re filling me up so good baby.” you praise.
“mhmm. thank you y/n. takin’ me so well- mph!”
he leans down to place a sloppy, desperate kiss onto your lips, tasting like salt and a hint of the strawberry lollipop he had earlier. he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, frantically searching your eyes. his pace never slowed, thrust after thrust, one as powerful as the next, absolutely blinded by complete desperation.
he palms your tits through the shirt he couldn’t be bothered to take off- it was hotter having you only half naked anyways.
whispered “i love you”’s mumbled onto your lips, as his thrusts grew sloppier, more uncoordinated. he couldn’t care less about rhythm at this point, he was just doing what felt good. it was almost like he wasn’t in control of his body, completely overwhelmed by pure pleasure. the sloppier his rhythm became, the needier his moans and whimpers became.
“y-you feel too good baby- ngh g’na come. please tell me you’re on the pill.”
he pulls back to frantically searching your face for any sign of a yes. the second you nod with the simple sentence of “inside, cho” he completely loses any reminiscence of composure he had left.
his watering eyes roll back, mouth agape as he spills his hot load deeeep into your cunt. he catches his breath for a few seconds, letting the last drops seep into you. he hesitantly pulls out, but instead of grabbing a washcloth, he lowers his body so he’s face to face with your sacred pussy.
without warning, his warm tongue laps a long stripe from the base of your pussy right up to your clit, the second he spots the creamy substance of his cum leak out of your cunt. he greedily sticks his tongue outside, desperate to make sure that you come.
your hands fly to his black roots, tugging at them. your cunt trembled at the contact, still sensitive to the earlier railing.
“s-shiiit cho, you’re such a good boy cleaning up your mess.”
he sucks your clit with a soft pop! before diving back into your leaking cunt.
“mmm fank you.” is mumbled directly into your wetness, over and over like a mantra, praising how good you felt, how good you taste, how good you look. his praise eventually cause that knot to finally snap, warmth spreading in familiar places as you grab his hair tighter.
even though you came, choso moans louder than you.
the man finally comes up for air panting, and you realise he was holding his breath for a concerningly long time.
you looks up at you with those dark orbs like you are the only thing worth living for.
“i could happily die being suffocated by your pussy”.
“don’t try and distract me from your punishment cho.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
a/n: hey… how yall doing.. gulp.
pretended that tumblr doesn’t exist cause uni is kicking my ass lowkey highkey. but my very inventive friend @leiceed came up with this plot so everyone thank her!!!! this is lowk rushed and barely proofread lols. always happy juneteenth!
you always knew your husband was silly from time to time—but it was completely undeniable that he was the smartest human in the whole wide world. growing up in the gojo clan had sharpened both his mind & ego, and he thought he was prepared for anything.
except, when his firstborn baby arrived... joy overwhelmed his keen senses.
"...i might've cheated on you."
for a being who slaughtered the most vile curses with a lazy roll of his wrist, satoru gojo looked pretty unidentifiable. his aquatic eyes were huge and clouded with bone-crushing guilt, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at the bundle in front of him, and then back at you.
the child was beautiful, this much was plain. but he was not your child. at least not recognizably.
there was no trace of the signature white hair or blue eyes whatsoever—nor did the boy seem to bear even a fleeting resemblance to your own visage. just a tiny, wrinkled little facade that belonged to absolutely nobody.
satoru looked physically sick. all the color drained from his face, gazing at you with a kind of horrified panic, long fingers clutching to the baby's blanket. “i-i swear to you, i don't recall any of it," he stammered, his voice wobbling with dread. "i-i love you beyond measure. it... it must have happened without my knowledge."
what a fucking cliché it is, but he looked for all the world like a frightened man awaiting execution, fully engrossed in his stupid delusion.
"baby, please, you have to believe me, i could never break our vows... y-you know me, i-i would never—"
and throughout his meltdown, you could only stare with your mouth hanging halfway open, body frozen with absolute shock and bewilderment. is he really that braindead?
"satoru," you eventually interrupted his rambling, voice pitched a tad too high with disbelief. "the child came out of me. how exactly could you have cheated to make that happen?”
an oppressive silence descended upon the hospital room, the gears slowly grinding back to life in his brain. his "brilliant intellect" that usually fed his ego greater than anything finally returned to earth as he blinked down at the boy; the sheer idiocy of the concept clocking into him.
a breathless laugh bubbled out of his throat, the immense self-loathing leaving his frame all at once as he buried the baby's face against his broad chest ever so gently, his eyes shining with relief and a heavy humiliation.
when he finally looked up, he was wearing a wet smile on his face, cheeks flushed and damp with the tears he’d been shedding over. lunatic. the curve of his pillowy lips trembled slightly as he offered a soft, sheepish grin, fully defenseless under your judging stare.
“fuck, i’m an idiot,” he murmured, the vibration of his chest making his son startle in his cradle as he leaned in to press a tender, apologetic kiss to baby's head. “right, yeah. biology. i guess i'm the one who should be asking what you were doing nine months ago."
you’re on the couch, legs stretched out, when choso drops to his knees in front of you like he’s been holding himself back all day.
he doesn’t speak, instead, he presses his face into your thigh, breathing hard, his hands already sliding up the backs of your calves with shaky fingers. you’re barely paying attention until you feel him shift lower—until the thick, desperate line of his cock grinds against your shin in one shaky, involuntary thrust.
“choso,” you say, glancing down. “what the hell are you doing?”
he doesn’t stop. his hips roll forward again, harder this time, and a broken little sound slips out of him. he’s already fully hard, throbbing against your leg through his sweats, and he’s not even trying to hide how wrecked he is.
“i’m sorry,” he gasps, his voice hoarse. “i’m sorry, i just—fuck, i need it. been thinking about this all day. couldn’t wait.” another frantic grind, his cock dragging along your shin like he’s starving for it. “please. just let me. i’ll be quick. i-i’ll be good, i'll be so good.”
you stare at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “you’re humping my leg like an animal.”
he nods desperately, his face flushed dark, his hips already moving again. “i k-know. i know i’m pathetic. i just—i can’t stop. you s-smell so good and i’ve been so fucking hard and i just need—need to rub off on you. please. please let me cum like this.”
you don’t answer right away. you just watch as he loses what little control he has left. his hands are gripping your calf so tight it almost hurts, his forehead pressed to your knee, and every roll of his hips is sloppy, uncoordinated, like he’s too far gone to care how he looks. he’s moaning openly now—soft, broken little sounds that make your stomach twist.
“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants under his breath, his voice cracking. “feels so good. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. i-i need it. need to cum, fuck, pleasepleaseplease—please d-don’t make me stop.”
you reach down and fist his hair, yanking his head back so he has to look at you. his eyes are glassy, his mouth open, drool glistening at the corner of his lip. he looks completely wrecked.
“you’re disgusting,” you say, voice flat.
he whimpers, his hips stuttering. “i know. i’m sorry. i-i’m such a fucking perv. just—let me finish. i’ll clean it up. i’ll do anything.”
you hold his gaze for a long moment. then you let go of his hair and lean back.
“go ahead,” you say. “make a mess.”
he moans like you just gave him the world, his hips snapping forward in a desperate, frantic rhythm. he’s panting now, his whole body shaking, his cock leaking so much it’s soaking through his sweats and onto your skin. every thrust is messy, needy, like he’s trying to crawl inside you through your leg.
“th-thank you,” he sobs, his voice breaking. “thank you, thank you, thank you. i’m gonna cum. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i just—i can’t—”
he cums with a loud, broken cry, his whole body jerking as he grinds against your shin. you can feel the heat of it, the way his cock pulses over and over, soaking his sweats and your leg. he doesn’t stop moving. he keeps grinding through it, whimpering, overstimulated and still desperate, like he can’t make himself pull away.
when he finally stills, he’s shaking, his face buried in your knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
you give him a moment. then you tug his hair again.
“look at me.”
he lifts his head slowly, eyes wet, lips trembling. there’s a huge wet spot on your leg where he came, and he stares at it like he’s ashamed and turned on all at once.
“you’re cleaning that up,” you say.
he nods frantically, already leaning down. “yes, princess. i’m sorry.”
and when he starts licking—eager and desperate, like he’s trying to prove something—you just lean back and let him keep going.
Toji scolding you with your head locked between his thick thighs, warm skin rippling over flexed, rippling muscles. Your nose is pressed up against his balls and it's a little icky but you can smell him and it makes your head swim.
You've been pushing at his buttons all day. Running your hands down that slutty little compression shirt with a pout and asking just how much he benches. If he can pick you up. Hugging him close when he wraps a single arm around you, hand splayed across your ass and gripping to lift you up.
It's not your fault he's fine. Gruff rough-and-tumble voice, the low set of his brows. You like that he's a little blunt. He's buff and on a bulk right now and it makes you want to tie him up and take a picture of the scowl you know he'll give. Better yet if he tied you up. And played with you. Fingered you rough with two of those calloused digits inside, knuckle-deep, stretching you open and scissoring until your slick ran down his wrist.
You're snapped out of your reverie when he pulls at your hair, lifting your gaze from his dick to his sneer. "Hey. You listening, brat?"
He sees your hips shift at the moniker. Then his lips curl back, and he shoots you the biggest, fattest, most shit-eating grin known to man. The bastard.
sukuna is not happy about piercing your daughters ears :c
(reposted from mimuju!)
"no. absolutely not. you're not touching her."
sukuna's voice is a low growl, his massive arms wrapped protectively around your toddler daughter in the piercing chair. the lady with the piercing gun pauses, eyes wide at the tattooed giant glaring daggers from his spot beside you.
she's tiny, maybe 2, all chubby cheeks and wild pink hair like her dad's, dressed in a frilly dress you picked out for her "big girl day," complete with little mary janes. you've been hyping it up for weeks—tiny sparkly studs, nothing crazy, just simple diamonds to match her eyes. but sukuna? he's been grumbling since you suggested it, muttering about "barbaric customs" and "ruining perfection."
"baby, it's just earrings," you say softly, squeezing his knee under the counter. "she'll look so cute! and it'll heal fast. millions of girls get this done."
he shoots you a look, all four eyes narrowing under those sharp black brows. "she's a baby. babies don't need holes poked in their heads. what if it gets infected? what if she hates it?" but he doesn't move, holding her steady on his lap, her little hands clutching his black shirt, babbling happily at the shiny gun like it's a toy.
the piercing lady smiles nervously, gun ready, trying to lighten the mood. "it'll be quick, sir. one little pop on each side. she's been great so far."
sukuna huffs, his breath ruffling your daughter's hair, but he nods once, jaw clenched so tight you see the muscle tick. "fine. make it painless or i'll make you regret it. i am unlike my wife, i have no mercy for mortals."
you bite back a laugh, watching him brace like he's facing a battlefield. the lady counts down—three, two, one—and pops the first stud through your daughter's earlobe. instant wail. a piercing cry that echoes in the small shop, her face scrunching up beet red, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, little legs kicking wildly.
sukuna freezes, body going rigid, then twitches like he's been shot himself. "what the fuck was that?!" he snarls, his free hand slamming the counter hard enough to make the jewelry displays rattle, tattoos rippling across his skin like living shadows. all four eyes lock on the lady like he's about to curse her into oblivion right there. "do that again and you're fucking dead, you hear me?"
the poor woman stammers, the cheap piericng gun trembling in her hands, face paling. "i-it's normal! just the shock! she's fine, look—the second one's done already, see?" she pops the other ear quick as lightning, and your daughter's tiny fists flailing at the air, her cries turning into quiet hiccups.
you can't help it—you burst out giggling, hand over your mouth, tears in your eyes from laughing. "kuna, oh my god— she's fine! look, sparkles already! she's got her earrings, see how pretty?"
he ignores you completely, scooping her up fully into his massive arms, cradling her against his broad chest like she's made of glass. his glare stays pinned on the lady for a long beat, utterly murderous, promising vengeance, before it softens instantly on his girl.
"shh, shh, my little princess. daddy's got you. that mean lady's gone forever, i swear it." he rocks her gently side to side, his huge hand patting her back in slow circles, the other stroking her wild pink hair with surprising tenderness. her cries taper to sniffly hiccups, soothed by his deep rumble of a voice humming some ancient, gravelly lullaby from his cursed past, the kind only you know about.
you lean in, kissing his stubbled cheek, still chuckling softly. "she won't even remember this tomorrow. but you'll be telling the story for years, won't you, kuna?"
he grunts, still shooting one last glare over his shoulder at the lady as you pay and gather her things. "no more piercings. ever." but he presses a soft kiss to her tiny forehead, her sparkly new earrings catching the shop lights like stars, and you know he's already melting inside, utterly whipped for his perfect little girl.
sukuna's convinced he'll never find a mate. he's tried it all, mate pairing programs, rehabilitation. no one wants him. who needs a bond anyway? he prefers the solitude. you're his last hope. an optimistic volunteer thrown at him by that pesky support program in hopes that he'll finally find a mate. will you be the one to show him that he doesn't really wanna be lonely? or will you throw him to the curb like everyone else? well, his rough exterior and unexpected rut truly puts you to the test.
♡ ﹕ 8.6k words
♡ ﹕ this was commissioned by @lycanqueen
꒰ 🍓 ⸰ ✦ 𝓒ws. hybrid au :: human!reader :: smut :: hurt/comfort :: mean!sukuna :: sweet!reader :: possessiveness :: pining :: hybrid ruts :: scenting :: marking :: oral ( f.receiving ) :: face-sitting :: p in v :: rough sex :: mating press :: multiple orgasms :: emotional sex :: overstimulation :: choking :: breeding :: talks of cubs :: creampie ꒱
"Maybe they were right about you. You are a lost cause."
So this rehabilitation agent had guts? Sukuna would give him that much.
The sun pierced his eyes and slitted his pupils as he stared at the man before him, unshaken. Bold, for someone with noting but a flimsy clipboard for a weapon if Sukuna let his temper get the better of him.
He never had an issue with it before. So where were his claws?
"That mean I can finally do my own damn thing now?" He gruffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he propped against his doorway. He ignored his tail that hung low.
The man furrowed his brows. Sucked in a breath. Looked like he was searching for patience in the late afternoon air. His hand with the clipboard dropped as he stood straight.
"You don't get it, do you Ryomen?"
"What's there to get? That I can't play housecat for your domesticity programs?"
"Behavioural programs."
"That've made shit progress."
"It's not as if you make it any easier."
"Your potential mates bore me."
"You scared them off. Every one of them."
The man didn't need to match Sukuna's tone to scathe him. His face never broke clinical aloofness, even with each word loaded. Baggage of the ugly truth: that Ryomen Sukuna was a lost cause.
Countless mates. Five? Six? He lost track. He pretended to forget their names but he remembered every one.
The first left quietly. Said he was too loud.
The second left loudly. Said he was too quiet.
The third claimed she was frightened. The fourth didn't even give him a reason. Fifth and sixth were some ugly variation of all of the above.
Sukuna stopped caring.
He did care, at one point. That's why he let his coworker convince him to join this stupid 'hybrid nature rehabilitation program' in the first place, right? Because maybe tigers were too bold. Too frightening. Too much.
Too much. That's what the last one said.
Well, if he was too much for anyone, maybe they weren't enough for him.
The agent sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose and probably contemplating why he chose to work for a facility that boasted a 100% rehabilitation record. Guess Sukuna was about to ruin that too. As he did most things.
"Look," the man said. His shoulders slumped. "We do not typically give up on our patients, but surely you understand that we've tried everything in the book for you, right?"
Sukuna didn't reply.
"Behavioural therapy. Group counselling. Mate pairings and courses. You've chased away every volunteer and potential mate. Somehow even frightened off your therapist last month."
"She was weak."
"She was doing her job. You act like. . ."
Sukuna grunted. His claws threatening to lash out and tear up his own shirt. "What?" He knew the answer. Knew that sickening word that they all used for him. "An animal?"
The man didn't answer. Didn't have to. He sighed again and checked his clipboard. "This is your last shot for clearance."
"And if I don't pass?"
"You'll be escorted to a private facility."
Hybrids were monitored under lock and key by the state. Sukuna guessed he couldn't really blame them. They were different. Unpredictable.
Animals.
Sukuna regretted ever approaching the program in the first place. If he knew what he knew now— that he was simply built to be on his own, he would have swallowed the furball and bit his own tail. Lived out the rest of his life without the feeling of being watched.
Now, they knew he was unstable. Now, they considered him a threat. Guess his claws really were clipped.
"Thanks to your last stunt, none of the volunteers stepped up for this," the man said, flipping through his clipboard.
Sukuna huffed. "What's the point then? Just ship me off already." At least he'd get to be alone, then.
"Because miraculously, one of our assistants offered to help." The man looked up. "She's new. And your last shot." He handed over the clipboard with a small picture clipped at the top right.
That's the first time Sukuna saw you.
The second time he saw you, you smiled at him. Stupid move, really. For someone so small, so frail— so breakable.
"It's nice to meet you," he's sure you lied as you stuck out your hand. Chirpier than a bird hybrid. Bright eyed as a squirrel. Were they sure that you were human?
"Yeah. Hi." He gruffed, not reaching for your hand. It looked too gentle for him.
You dropped your arm to your side, still smiling, but softer. Before you trotted off to lug the rest of your belongings into his home.
He helped you, of course. Tiny thing like you probably would sprain her spine if she did it all by herself. Pathetic.
This was his last hope? They might as well cage him and ship him off already.
Within a week, he was sharing his space again. The few days of blissful solitude had come to an end. Now, there was a canvas in his living room. Pink body wash and products littered across his bathroom counter. Books from authors he couldn't even pronounce occupying his empty shelves.
You were sweeter than the three spoons of sugar you dumped in your strawberry tea every morning. Softer than the dinner rolls you insisted on making every Wednesday and Friday. Shy. Gentle.
Too gentle for someone like him.
In the beginning, Sukuna had watched you. Like a tiger stalked its prey. Scouring for the first sign of discomfort. A hint of fear. Even those who started off strong couldn't keep up the act for long. Not with him.
Which was what made it so odd.
You were timid, sure. But not afraid of him. Guess he'd give it some time.
Because that's simply his fate now, right? Watch a new volunteer skip into his lair and run off with their tail between their legs once he got too much. No one stayed. Not like they did with everyone else.
Others made hybrid bonding look easy. They'd join circles and find mates in the same week. Same night, even. Claiming it all as 'the right timing'. The right person.
Sukuna was a wrong person. Therefore, no right person would fit. Like an unwanted puzzle piece.
Not that he cared. He didn't need to fit in with anyone. If he was too much for any twisted jigsaw of companionship then he'd simply be the missing piece. A corner piece no one looked for. The one that made no difference to the puzzle. The one that no one needed.
He preferred being alone, anyway.
If this last ditch effort blew up in smoke, he guessed he'd have his wish. Whatever facility they'd stuff him into— at least he would be alone. It was better that way.
By himself, he didn't have to soften his tongue. By himself, he didn't have to pretend that he did not have stripes, claws and canines. Didn't have to soften himself for someone who wouldn't soften for him.
Didn't have to watch anyone leave when he became too much.
You didn't leave.
A week went by. Then two. Three, before he knew it. You rooted yourself into his floorboards like a flourishing flower and offered him the same sunny smile every morning.
"How'd you sleep, Sukuna?" You'd ask, as if you cared.
"Fine." He'd grumble from the coffee machine. The bitter stain on his tongue refused to ever let him return the question.
Why should he bother with someone who was going to sign him off anyway? Might as well show her what she was getting herself into. His poor behaviour and slacking social skills, as his therapist put it.
You never flinched. Humans sure were resilient.
But he was hybrid. And everyone knew that tigers were ruthless.
He wouldn't shroud his nature to make himself more palatable for you. For anyone, ever again.
It's odd. You actually tried.
You adapted your body clock to him. Sukuna woke up drearily early. To catch the dawn on his ears during his morning run. He supposed you started waking up shortly after him. Giving you enough time to ready breakfast for him when he stepped back through the door.
Eggs. Bacon. Any raw protein you could think of. You were unfortunately, a good cook.
"This isn't necessary," he said from the counter, but still wolfed down your perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs.
"Waking up early has its perks." You mused, sipping your tea. Probably strawberry. Or rose. He hated that he now knew your favourites.
You made his bed whenever he wasn't looking. He scolded you for it, the first few times. You insisted it was fine. That you liked cleaning up.
You tried to watch movies with him. Plopped beside him on the sofa and struck him your signature smile.
"Wanna watch something?" You asked, soft. Already dangling the remote. Sukuna couldn't help but compare the size of your hand to his.
He scoffed. "What? Some romcom?"
"Or horror." You bashed.
His instincts told him that a gentle soul like you wouldn't last ten seconds with a horror movie. Still, he indulged you. The last thing he wanted was to endure some stupid hybrid hallmark film.
A slasher flick. He didn't pay attention to the name. All he knew was that you quivered halfway through it and that stirred an urge in his gut.
Urge to what? Now that, he once again had no answers to.
It was warm. Low. The same way he felt when kids dropped their ice creams and mothers tripped in grocery stores. He couldn't name it. But he did drape his arm over the back of the couch. Not grazing your shoulders but, there.
You'd probably have nightmares tonight. Silly girl. Now he would be obligated to return the favour.
Because you did, a few nights ago. When he tossed and turned. Creased his sheets and slashed his blankets. Sukuna wasn't one to dream— but he did have nightmares.
About the darkness. About the cold. About a void that for some, unfathomable reason, unsettled him.
"It's okay, shh." Your voice reached out to him through the shadow. Light against the darkness.
"It's okay. I'm here. Wake up, please."
You were luck he hadn't broken your arm.
His grip was too tight. Claws too wretched. Not lucid enough to realise that he snatched your wrist when he had woken up.
"Get out." His voice rumbled. Eyes bloodshot and pupils tight. Sweat burned his forehead.
It must have not sounded like a threat, or maybe it was your stupid human resilience. You leaned over him. One knee on his bed and your hand ghosting his shoulder.
"You're freezing," you whispered.
He jerked from you. Rolled over onto his side and refused to allow himself to be vulnerable under your gentle gaze.
"I'm fine." He said.
You insisted. Are you sure? — Can I get you anything? — All the things that people said to catch you off guard and then left anyway.
"I said I'm fine."
His voice boomed, final. It was the first time he'd seen you flinch. He did not bother calling out for you as you shuffled out of the room. Assumed your bags would be packed by the morning. Your pink body wash nowhere to be seen on his counters and your books vanished from his shelves.
You didn't leave. Here you were, a few days later, with shaky knees and a horror movie. But insisting that you were enjoying it for his sake.
You never turned tail. Never backed down. Maybe it was more than human resilience. Maybe it was stubbornness.
That's the only thing that made sense to him. Why else hadn't you disappeared regardless of how much steam he'd blown at you? Especially when he was too much.
"Let's get one thing straight."
You had said something stupid one day in the kitchen. Something about being there for him. Some empty promise he had heard mixed and minced several different ways until it lost all meaning.
As if his mood was not sour enough.
Your back pressed into the fridge. His strong forearm shoved above your head. Sukuna's hulking body shadowed yours. Perhaps this was it. Where you finally became apart of that void that haunted his dreams.
"You and I. Are not. Compatible." His ears pinned back to his head. Tail coiled tight. Like his jaw and teeth that clenched.
Still, you held his stare. Even when it burned.
"Not a thing. Not. Possible." He spat. "So stop acting like you aren't just gonna sign me off so I can be caged up."
"I'm not—"
"I want you to."
He cut you off. Sharp as his heave as he craned closer. Close enough to smell your cherry shampoo— but not a hint of fear.
What was wrong with you?
"I want you to sign me off. So that we can stop pretending like any of this is gonna work and that I'm anything but better off alone."
The fridge rattled as he shoved himself off. He expected your knees to shake. Expected you to clamber out of the kitchen and stuff whatever you could into a suitcase for the night.
Instead, you watched him storm off. With those same, achingly gentle eyes.
Why were you so gentle?
Why did you stay?
Why did he find himself being gentler, too?
Of course, Sukuna didn't want to snap at you. You were simply the closest thing. The softest thing. His hands weren't built to cherish the tender.
Yet, tender were his hands, as they cooked for you. If you handled breakfast, it was only fair that dinner was his responsibility. Even if all he exchanged with you were grunts and gruffs, as long as you went to bed full, he was content.
Content? Odd. That wasn't a word in his vocabulary anymore.
His voice dangered tender's territory on nights you'd be out. Work, friends, whatever he never bothered listening to but for some reason found himself worrying over when the street lights switched on.
"Do you need a lift back?" He asked into the phone. Taking note to look uninterested, even if you couldn't see him.
"I should be fine, Sukuna." You chirped.
"You sure? It's almost midnight."
"I'm sure! What's the worst that could happen?"
To a sweet thing like you? A lot. More than he'd like to imagine.
Morals, he told himself. He pulled up in the middle of the morning to pick you up because of his pesky morals.
"Sorry you had to come all this way," you said as you shut the passenger door.
Sukuna considered your dress. Hated himself for it.
"What?" His tongue clicked. "Were you expecting to walk all the way back?"
"What's the worst that could—"
"A lot."
It wasn't like the other times. His voice raised, but didn't roar. His brows narrowed, but didn't glare.
The car ride was silent.
Your smile was sickening.
Cute.
He watched you closer. Not as a tiger stalked prey. Not anymore. He couldn't name this.
He refused to call it gentle.
Even when he carefully observed the way you fixed your hair every morning. How he noted which of your curves that the sun bounced odd of. The soft plush of your body and how your thighs moulded into the couch cushions, or rounded perfectly in your shorts.
Never had he been one to appreciate art— though he stood in front of your canvases and stared at your paint patterns. Swirls of green and blotches of warmth. Illustrations of nature: jungles and wild flowers.
It called to something within him. He assumed his hybrid traits. A tiger yearned for jungle, that was his home.
Home.
Sukuna didn't have a home.
He had a house. He had you. Had pink body wash on his counters and books he'd learnt the names of on his shelves. Had a warm meal every morning and a warmer bed you still insisted on making.
He had movie nights. A running partner. Someone who finally rooted her heels to the floorboards and blossomed in his walls. Stubborn as she was shy.
But not a home.
It was only a matter of time. Until he said something that finally was the thing. Until he'd wake up to your paintings missing, and your shampoo gone. He'd come home to no protein, but a sheet of paper:
I've signed you off. Good riddance.
You told him that you wouldn't, after he insisted it that night in the kitchen.
You padded to doorway of his room, picking at your sleeves with a petal-soft voice.
"All we have to do is clear you for rehabilitation," you said.
Not once did your eyes meet his.
"Then what? I can finally be alone?" He asked, incredulous.
You nodded.
It's what he wanted. What he claimed to want. So why was your agreement a sharp pang between his ribs?
That was then. He assumed your plans hadn't changed much. A silent agreement that if he behaved, you'd leave him be by the end of it all.
That's why he was gentler, he told himself.
Just trying to ensure his goals, he insisted.
For now, he would take care of you as you did him. Whether conscious or not. If it meant that when it was through, he'd get what was best for him.
Solitude.
But if solitude was what he wanted, why did he hate seeing you in others' company?
It was late. Emergency work call. He missed his afternoon cat nap and only scuffed down half of his breakfast.
The sun peeped at him from its sprawl across the horizon. Glaring into the back of his head as he stalked home. Burning him hotter. Hot.
He felt so. Fucking. Hot.
It wasn't even summer yet. Spring had only perked its preppy head. The blossoms bloomed. Their nectar tickled his nose. Couples gifted their flowers.
Sukuna hated spring.
He hoped you hadn't cooked dinner yet. That was his job. His responsibility.
But no, you were outside. Prattling to a neighbour.
All smiles and soft. Cupping your hands in front of you as you listened to the man's stories. The irritable snow leopard that lived next door. With his baby blue eyes and boyish grin.
What were you even doing outside in the first place? Didn't he tell you it was dangerous once the street lights started switching on?
Sukuna did what he did best. He watched. Looming by the telephone wire. Feeling the sun stab into his head. His spine. Feeling the heat gurgle from his gut. Splutter up his lungs. Against the back of his teeth.
That spotted fucker touched your arm.
Sukuna scathed.
Blurred colours. A muffled yelp. His claw caught on your woolly sweater as he snatched your arm.
"Sukuna—!"
Your gasp drowned in the rumble of his growl. Grated from the back of his throat. The leopard backed off. Your muscles tensed under his calloused fingers.
"Inside. Now."
He didn't wait for you to agree nor disagree. Dragging you inside and rattling the walls as the door clattered! shut.
"Su—" he lodged your voice in your throat once more. Shoved your back into the nearest thing— the same splintering door.
Was it hotter inside? Or was that the anger?
A sweat drop sweltered between his brows.
"What the hell were you doing?" As if he had any right to ask. You weren't his mate.
Mate? Of course you weren't his mate.
Then why did his teeth crave to sink into your flesh? Mark you?
His stare hazed. Blinking rapidly. Heaving. The heat blistered into his nerves. Clenched his muscles. Suffocating. It was suffocating.
"Why were you. With him. Why—" he zeroed in. Mistake. Big mistake.
Your scent.
You weren't his mate. Why the hell did you smell like it, then?
Did you always smell this good?
Your gaped at him. Hands stiff on your sides and pressed flat into the wood. Your neck craned to account for the height difference. Were you watching him this time? Was he too much?
His eyes squeezed shut.
"Sukuna," you spoke. His name didn't deserve that gentleness. It ached him deeper today.
"I think you're. . ."
Snapping open his stare, he sucked in breath. Considered your words. The phrase your lips wrapped around.
Rut.
Shit.
He shoved himself away from the door. Away from you. The fire crawled up his throat. Thunked his heart. Thrummed a deep, dark chord in his gut.
The sweat slipping down his spine in the middle of spring confirmed it. He was in rut. With a poor, persistent, pretty human in claw's reach.
"Hey— hey it's okay," you attempted, stepping forward where he stumbled back.
"Don't."
He hissed.
You preserved.
Stubborn. Stubborn, sweet thing.
"Let me help." You offered.
"No."
He tried. Tried to stumble off. Lock himself in his room. He could hump the mattress for all he cared but he wasn't so much as touching—
You took him by the wrist. Might as well have taken his soul while you were at it.
Splintered his restraint.
The door rattled again. Creaked awfully with the weight of him. On you. The thickness of the air. The heat. Your wrists fit well in his big hands. Looked like they belonged there.
You looked like you belonged here. Pinned under him.
His chest heaved. Voice jagged, throaty.
"You don't know what you're getting into." He said.
You gulped. He paid too much attention to your throat. "I did when I signed up for this."
"Do you even know what a rut is?"
"I know you can't be alone right now."
Sukuna's breath hitched.
You relaxed your hips. Let them mould into his. Their plush softness drove him wild.
Lashes hung over deep maroons. The quiet thrummed with your heart beats. His, thundering and wanting. Yours, tender yet eager.
He craned closer. Tuffs of his pink hair tickled your forehead.
"I can do awful things to you." He whispered.
Still no flinches. You never did.
Your eyes batted at him.
"Is that so bad?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
Even the kiss, burned.
Your lips really were petal-soft. Softer than he had imagined. He hated himself for imagining this in the first place.
The knot in his gut wound tight. Urging him to flush you further into the wood. Flush further into you. Patience slipped into the simmer between your mouths. Sukuna kissed you with violence. Nothing contained. Nothing hidden.
He told you that he wouldn't placate himself for you.
Abandoning your wrists, his grip sought your plush. Squeezing your thighs between his fingers gaps. Lifting you into his arms so that your heels pressed into his back. So that he could consume you. Tongues tangling and teeth tackling.
Your hands smacked at his shoulder. Breaths huffed through your nose. A desperate sound that plunged him deeper into heat.
He let you breathe. Barely.
"I can be good for you." Was what you used the privilege to gasp.
His chest rumbled. "Yeah?"
The slope of your throat was so pretty when you gulped.
Sukuna slipped a hand to your cheek. Rough. He couldn't be gentle. Not with you. Not now.
"Gonna be good for me, pretty girl?"
Eyes blown out. Jaw tight. If you said anything other than your whined little yes as his hips ground into yours, he might have lost his mind entirely.
His mouth attacked yours again. Sucking on whatever was left of your lychee lipgloss. Surely bruising your lips in the process. He didn't care. Let him mark you. Everywhere. So that stupid snow leopards didn't get the wrong idea. So that everyone knew what you were.
His.
The home blurred into vertigo colours. The floors creaked under the weight of his footsteps. Sukuna hoisted you with him. Haphazardly avoiding furniture in the stagger to his bedroom. Hands palming at whatever part of your flesh he could reach.
He almost stumbled in the hallway. Caught you against the doorway, one of your hands gripped at it while the other clutched the back of his neck. Fisted his hair between your fingers.
"Sukuna, careful." You whined.
He didn't listen. Too busy humping on your thighs that squished perfectly between his hard body and the cold door. Nurturing his bulge. Tucking its hot curve into the smooth crux of your skin.
"Said you'd be good for me." His growl rumbled on your pulse. Teeth mapping out his new territory: your velvet flesh. "So shut up and take it. Like a good girl, yeah?"
The door swung open. You must have palmed the handle. Feet fumbled in a clumsy waltz. Hands clinging for dear life. He caught you. Kept you pressed against his blazing body as he mouthed down your throat. Latched onto a tender spot. Marked you.
Sukuna handled his ruts the way he handled everything else: alone. His hand, a pillow, and a grotesque amount of tissue boxes. When last had he felt the soft touch of a partner? Held their warmth beneath him while his mind drove him wild with fire?
He was always too much. Too much to handle. Too aggressive. Too big.
But you.
You seemed to want everything.
In the way your nails curled on his shirt. In the pitiful way your neck arched to give him more access. Offering yourself up to him. A pretty deer who craved a tiger's claws in her. His maw latched to your throat.
"You're so eager," he groaned.
You whimpered, "I'm yours."
Fuck.
The mattress sunk. Creaking in retort to the callousness of his shove. Your body moulded into his sheets. Into him, as he staggered over you. Knees digging into the bed. Teeth clamped on the base of your throat.
You jerked. A gasped cry vibrating against his teeth. Palms knocking into his shoulders. To push him off?
No— to grip. Cling. To him. To your mate.
After all, you were his now, weren't you?
Bites bloomed across your neck. Over your collarbone. Down your shoulders. Your clothes threading like ribbons under Sukuna's claws. The sound of fabric tearing accentuated the rough pants and pitched whines in the humid air.
He wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you what a good girl you were being for him. Wanted to grunt into your skin about how perfect you were. Tell you that you were everything he'd been waiting for.
The words lodged in his throat. Sticky on the back of his tongue that could only muster out wet pants and deep growls as he feasted on your flesh.
Every inch of your skin revealed to him was another blessing. Your curves. The dips. The soft slopes of your body. Salivated him all the more.
Your bra never stood a chance. Clawed away. Probably ruined at the wire. He didn't care. He'd buy you a new one. Buy you whatever you wanted if you were gonna carry his cubs.
Cubs.
The word slipped into his mind with ease, and ruined it.
Pupils blown out. Lungs clenching. He made the mistake of eyeing your tummy.
Perfect, round, soft. You'd be the perfect mate. The perfect mother for his young.
The thought spurred his hands rougher. Tearing away offensive fabrics until you were laid completely bare before him. With big, doe eyes batting up at him. So pretty. So his.
From the corner of his eye he spotted your hands slipping. To cover up. Cover what was his. Your wrists were snatched in his hard grip.
"Don't," he warned. Lips assaulting yours. Stealing your breath and tonguing on your whimpers.
"Don't hide what's mine."
Your tits were softer under his tastebuds. Delicate to the harsh swirls of his tongue. So small when compared to his mouth that sought to consume, to claim.
Sweet sounds sighed from your kiss-bitten lips. Your spine curved so that you pressed back into him. Squishing your plush breasts into his face. His groan rumbled into the flesh.
So tender it was maddening. So perfect it was addicting.
Kisses, sucks, bites. He littered your tits in more claims. Feasting on your silk flesh. Fantasising about the image of them larger. Fat and swollen with milk— just as you were round with his cubs.
His cock strained thick in his pants. Flushed hot on your inner thigh. He ground into your warmth. Rutting wildly. Like the animal he always was.
Your hands delving into his hair almost broke him. Almost. He withdrew from your chest. Eyes glowing through the dark as he found your face.
"Taste so good. So sweet." A hand roughed down your side. Cupped your thigh and strung it round his waist.
"Up."
Raw strength scooped you into his palms. Flesh spilling between the gaps of his fingers as he squeezed for good measure.
Your little squeaks were so cute.
Teeth dragged on your flesh. Callous over bites sunk into your gentle flesh. He lapped on the indents of his own canines as he wrest you over him. Shoved your thighs higher. Urging you. Demanding.
"Face. Now. Fucking sit on my face."
Senseless. Each word was a growl. It's a miracle you understood him at all. Maybe you always would. That's how mates were, right?
The cotton of your panties dragged on his collarbone. Frantic eyes darted to your face as your hips locked. Unmoving.
Stubborn little human.
"What?" He husked. Scuffling to shove you over his awaiting face. "I said sit."
Your lips pressed together. Hands scrambling for the headboard. "Wait are you— are you sure? I'm—"
"—driving me mad." He hissed through clenched teeth. The throbbing in his groin pulsed the sickening heat hotter. Seared into the back of his skull. To his hands that groped your ass. To his eyes that narrowed.
"Said I wanna taste you. So get. On."
Was that too much?
Was he too much for you?
No, course not. You wanted to be his good girl. He saw it in your doe eyes batting at him. In the quiver of your lip and the tremors of your thighs. You shuffled over him. Pressing the cusp of your panties against his chin.
"Like this?" You meeked.
"Like this."
Sukuna tugged you over him. Knocking your thighs. You stumbled. Caught yourself with shaky fingers in his hair and an adorable yelp.
The musked cotton scrunched into his nose, his mouth, the rest of his hard face. Stuffing his nostrils with the sweet, intoxicating aroma. His eyes threatened to roll back.
A muffled curse rumbled into your heat. First came his tongue. Abrasive like everything else about him. Lapping on your folds. Drenching the fabric. Trying to suck in your taste through it.
Then came his teeth. Impatient. Tearing into your panties. His head wrest, violent. Claws ripping away the cloth in a feral affair.
Your sweet heat was his reward. Slicking up his face with your clit pressed into his nose.
"Fuck," his groan thrummed. Straight into your velvet. Leaking your pussy into his agitated mouth. "Knew you'd taste s'fucking sweet."
Hands slipped up your thighs. Cupped your ass. Sukuna sought to press kisses to your quivering slit— but you dangled above him. Not pressed, not sat. Hovered.
"Said. Fucking sit."
He hauled you into him. Cramped your thighs into his head. Smothered your pussy into his face. Even with his ears muffled by your plush, he heard your stunned gasp.
The weight was perfect on his head. Your hands were perfect in his hair. Pussy pretty, pulsing, perfect, on his tongue that stroked over your slit. Lathered you in saliva. All the way to your clit.
He darted the muscle. Circled on your bud. Trying to commit to a rhythm. A pattern. It scathed into the heat of his rut. The heat to take, to claim. To make you his. Finally.
Even if you hated him after this.
Even if you signed him off and he finally got what he wanted. Solitude.
Right now, all he wanted was your pussy.
Filthy squirts and sloshes squelched through the room. Brimming the hazed air together with your whines. Moans. Gasps of his name.
He always hated how gently you said it. Like it meant something. Like it ever could mean something. Hearing it broken sounded better. Shaky and whimpered as he fucked you on his tongue.
"S-Suk— kuna, ah."
Sweet. So sweet. Sweeter than he ever deserved. But Sukuna was a greedy man. So he gripped on your thighs, bit his nails into your flesh, and feasted to his heart's content.
"There ya go. C'mon, pretty girl, ride my face."
Spank! went his hand. Clamouring your ass and fisting the jiggles. Pulling you down, harder, closer— till he was suffocating. Suckling on your clit. Guiding your hips into a sinful sway.
Your hips fell into rhythm. Atta girl. Always so sweet for him. Always so obedient. Yeah, if you stayed, you'd make the perfect mate.
He hoped you stayed.
He could make you stay.
Keep you in his bed. Make a den for you. Hold you down and fuck you into his sheets day-in-and-day-out. Fill you up until your tummy grew even rounder. Softer. Until you were swollen. Until you were his.
No. Fuck. That's the rut talking.
The rut talking.
It's the rut that had him palming your ass and squeezing you into his face. The rut that had his mouth kissing, sucking, licking and laving through your creamy mess. The rut that had him fucking you on his tongue and bucking his hip into the air just as yours ground down into his face. Smearing mess all over him.
Yeah. That's the rut. But fuck, if he wasn't drunk on your pathetic moans. Your messy pussy.
Your clit spasmed under the flat of his harassing tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head. Fingers dug into his skull. Even your pain was sweet.
"Shit— kuna." Your voice croaked. Called to him as a mate should. "I'm gonna, fuck. Think 'm gonna. . . gonna—"
His eyes fluttered. Throat rasped.
"Gonna cum? Yeah? Gonna cum, hah, all over my face?"
From between the small gap of your thigh, Sukuna witnessed your face. Eyes rolled back. Jaw slack. Tits bouncing as you rode his face as if he was yours.
He was.
In this moment. In these blurred lines of his rut. Where he pictured you as his mate. Entertained the thought of wanting. Of being wanted. Of not being alone.
He was yours. Even if for a moment.
You sung his name through the haze. Tender even when he ripped you apart at the seams. Delicate even in his claws that threatened to tear into you. Mark you with scars and blood.
Your hips clumsily rocked. Once—twice—locked up in feverish tremors. Your hands bunching his hair. Clinging. Your body hunched over his. Shattering.
Sukuna rode you through an orgasm with his lips latched around your clit. Sucking harsh on its throbs. Teething on its twitches.
You splattered his face in warmth. Sweet, sickening warmth that doused him deeper into his rut's clutches.
"That's it. There you go. Fuck. Prettiest fucking pussy," he slurred into your wetness. Tongue delving between your puffy folds. Lapping up your cum. Greedy.
You toppled over him. Breaths ragged. One hand clutched in his hair and the other on the headboard.
"Wanna— wanna help. Wanna." To his surprise you pulled on his hair. Interrupting his creamy kisses on your slit.
Stares met. His hot. Yours warm. Wanting.
"Wanna make you feel good too."
How pretty you were when you quivered. Lips glossed by drool and lashes soaked with tears. It ached a deep chamber in his heart.
"Wanna be good for me?" He panted.
Your nod was doeish. As everything else about you was. His delicate girl. So fragile in his hands.
He couldn't wait to break you.
The bed creaked again. You squeaked as he hauled you down into the wrinkled sheets. On your back with his hulking weight pressing down on you. His mouth fixed to yours. Magnetic. Addicted. Letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
"That mean you gonna let me breed you too, baby?" Catching your lip between his teeth, he grunted. Pressing the swell of his cock between your legs. Staining his crotch in your slick. "Gonna let me breed this sweet pussy?"
Your response was sweet, shy, but oh so eager. A tepid nod, as your fingers slipped to his shoulders. So small. Smaller than him in every way. He took the moment to appreciate it.
You, spread and waiting for him. Your pussy, swollen and twitching. His bulge pressed on your glistening folds dwarfed you entirely.
Oh, how you'd squirm on his cock.
At last he shrugged his shirt off. Shivered when your touch feathered over his chest. He made the mistake of watching your eyes. How they mapped out scars that your fingers traced.
You didn't have to say anything. Your gaze spelt affection he wasn't ready to receive.
"Don't stare at me like that." He gruffed, kicking off his pants.
"Why not?" You asked.
"Makes me think you want me."
"I do want you, kuna."
Damn you.
Damn you and your tenderness. Damn you and that sweet nickname your sugar lips latched onto. Damn you and the way you made his cock throb hard in the strained fabric of his boxers.
He palmed your throat. Focused on your pulse. The control he held over you in the moment.
"Shut up." His hiss muffled with a kiss. Hot and open-mouthed on yours. As if he could suck the words from your tongue and swallow them into his gut that knew better.
Knew that he was better off alone. That this was only for the sake of his rut.
Bulging and angry, his tip nudged between your thighs. Soaking up your arousal. The slippery sensation of your pussy sent shivers down his spine. So wet. For him. Only him.
He let you pull away. Watching as your gaze lowered to his thick cock sandwiched between your folds. Sliding against your slit and dragging on your clit. Your wide eyes eased a chuckle from him.
"What?" He drawled. "Too big?"
"Well. . . yes."
"And every inch's gonna fucking breed you."
He pinned you back into the mattress. Flat on your back with your knees scooped into his big hands. Dwarfed you there too. He pressed them back into you so that they kissed your tits. Folding you in half and completely exposing you entirely to his hungry eyes.
Salivating. He was salivating. Your eyes were too kind for how lewd your pussy spread out for him. Leaking a string of mess. Calling for him. Wanting him.
"Keep your eyes on me, you got that?" Maroon burned into yours. Searching for hesitance. For fear. For something that could cut into this feverish rut and remind him that he didn't deserve you. But no.
You obeyed him.
You wanted him.
His cockhead slotted against your slit. Dipping in to feel the silky sin of your pussy. A deep groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. His brows furrowed. Fuck. When last had he had this?
Blunt nails dug into the backs of your thighs as he sunk in. One inch. Two inch. Three inch. Four— popping through the first tight ring of resistance. Eyes devouring yours the entire time.
He watched your face. How it scrunched up and your mouth parted. How tears clouded your eyes as he pushed past the halfway point.
He stopped.
"You good?" He huffed. Barely gentle.
Very. Gentle.
"Yeah it's— just. . . just a lot." You croaked.
"Too much?"
His face didn't falter, but his heart sure did. His grip loosening on your limbs. Ready to let you go. Free you from him.
But you shook your head. Teary eyed. Twitching smile.
"Not enough."
Hips possessed. Mind a mess. He slammed forward at those two, pretty little words. Till his tip smooched your cervix and his balls squished into your folds. Bottomed out. Filling you to the brim.
The sound you made was sin itself. A blessing. Heaven, hell, and everything in between.
"Oh fuck." You cried, head tossed back. Unable to see him gasping out the same exclaim.
Your syrupy cunt hugged around him. Tight, snug. Nursing on an underside vein and milking him around the tip. Every pulse was your heartbeat, and it devastated him.
Cussing, he pushed down onto you. His heart tugging itself towards yours. To press into your skin as his hips started rutting. Slow, eager.
"Fuck. Look at you take this cock. Like you were born for it," his words husked above you.
Your lashes fluttered. Brows knitting at the centre. He watched your tears threaten to slip as he humped on the sensitive ring that was your cervix.
His tongue clicked. Swapping out a hand on your thigh, he snatched you beneath the jaw instead. Wrenching your face to his hot one.
"Didn't I say keep your eyes on me?"
"M sorry."
"Don't apologise, just take it."
He withdrew. Halfway at first— then shoved back in. The second time was further. And further. Until his thrusts pulled to the tip and plunged back to your womb. Languid, but hard. Sure to make you feel every inch of him pressing into your pussy nerves.
You soaked up his thighs. Splashing his balls and leaking a puddle into the sheets already. The scent was intoxicating. Flared his nostrils and dizzied his head.
The mattress shook beneath the power of his thrusts. Your body bounced with it. He made sure to coil his tail tight around your waist. Held you down like a predator did prey as he fucked you open on his cock.
Pleasure built a knot in his gut. Hot, heavy. Urging his hips to snap harder and chase bruises on your jiggling ass.
Every sound was sin. Sweet. Cries, moans, a whimper than surged into a whine of his name when he removed his other hand from your thigh to instead hold them back with a steeled forearm. So that his palm could press on the bulge swelling up the base of your tummy.
"Fuuckkk," he growled. Ears pinned back to his hair. Jaw hung and canines glinting. "Look at that. See that, pretty girl? What's here?"
You hiccuped, "your— ah. Your cock!"
"Yeah? What's it doing?"
"It's—"
You couldn't answer. Slurred by moans and the delicious drive of his dick stretching you out. He watched your eyes go static.
Spank! his palm landed hot on your clit. Bulging your eyes and jerking your hips up into his frantic thrusts. He laid another. Two. Three— encouraging your pitiful whimpers.
"Asked you a fucking question. What's it doing?"
"It's— hah. B. . . Breeed—"
"Breeding you? Yeah?"
"Uhuh! Breeding. Breeding me s-so . . . s'goood."
Drool bubbled on your lips. Your hands that had tried to scramble on his shoulders and dig your mark into his flesh now fell flat on the pillow. Beside your head. Limp like the rest of your body that surrendered itself to him.
Heat surged down his spine as you clamped around him. Sucking the air from his scathing lungs. Staining his base in a thick, filthy ring of cream.
His hips rammed all the more faster. Harder. Imprinting you into his bed. Your slick. Your sweat. Your scent.
One of your weak hands slipped down. Meeking over to his larger one fixed on your stomach. Wrapping around two of his massive fingers. Or at least trying to.
It strung a deep chord in him. Thin and vulnerable. One he has thought he cut out long ago.
His half slipped over yours. Fingers laced. Pressing you against the bulge he plunged into your tummy. Holding your hand. Holding it tight.
"Sweet pussy's milking me," his grunt fanned your pulse as he swooped down. Mouthing on your neck. Searching for your pulse to feel it race beneath his lips. "Fuck. Wants my cum so bad. Wants my cubs."
"Please!" You slurred.
He swore he could do this for life.
Shoving all the way, Sukuna paused on your cervix. Sweat dripping from his hair. Cock drumming heavy. He clamped you down through your protesting whines.
"Yeah, yeah, shut it." It didn't sound harsh. Especially not with his firm squeeze on your hand.
Slipping out just enough, he watched your juices spray all over him. Mesmerising him. He worked on autopilot. Bundling you into his arms and manhandling you into a different position.
Tossing you to your side, Sukuna slotted behind you. Hips spooning your ass. One strong arm hooked around your neck, choking you on his bicep. While the other strung around your thigh. Wrenching you open for him and his massive cock, that bullied back into your cunt. Squelching your cum and sick in messy streams.
Your angelic cries resonated into his bicep. Making him squeeze it harder against your throat. Headlocking you into his greedy mouth that sucked hickies across your neck.
The angle was deeper. Filthier. Letting him feel so much more of you.
How much smaller you were than him. How you squeezed him just right. How perfect you were in his arms.
Like you belonged.
Shit. Don't go there.
Sukuna tried to drown it out. The returning thought of you. A permanent fixture in his life. Your pink body wash on his counter, that was now his. Your books on his shelves that he could read to you. You, in his living room, painting.
Painting the jungle. Painting home. Being his home.
His cock pulsed hard at the base and sweltered at the tip. The knot in his stomach wound tight. But that thought— that thought gutted him.
That you were here. That you had been here. Warm, and sweet, and soft and for the last few weeks. His.
You could be his.
"No," he wanted it to sound like a grunt. But he whimpered. Panting, heaving, mind dizzy and thrusts frantic—
Sukuna was whimpering.
Your face was pressed into his bicep. Head limp and hand still trying to hold his that clutched your thigh. Still calling his name so sweetly.
"N-No?" You breathed.
Still attuned to him even when he was fucking your brains out.
"Don't want you to leave."
Oh.
Oh.
He hadn't realised that it slipped from his lips. Hadn't realised that through his brutal thrusts— he was breaking. Lost in the burning bliss, the heat, and the warmth of what could be.
Sukuna lost his fucking mind.
"Don't wanna— fuck. Don't wanna be alone." His face fell into your neck. Arms squeezing your body into his. Trying to melt your skin into his. Tuck himself into your warm flesh and the selfish wish you gave him.
Hazed, and hot, and so heavenly yours.
Slick hair pressed into your cheek. His body collapsed onto yours. Pounding his cock up into your creamy cunt. Chasing his blazing nerves as his mouth rambled.
"Don't want you to leave. Don't. Shit. Don't leave me, please, please don't fucking leave me."
His thrusts lost rhythm. As frantic as his rushed whispers. Plunging into your cervix. Bruising your thighs. Clutching you closer. As close as he could muster. As close as it would take to keep you here forever.
"Say you won't— say you," he slurred. Eyes squeezed shut. Words melting into a clumsy splutter of curses. "Say. Say you won't. Say—"
"Won't. Won't. 'kuna I won't— hngahh. Promise!"
That single word. So raw. So true. Choked in a gasp as you tried to nudge your face closer to him.
It shattered whatever pride he had left.
"You promise?"
He croaked. Dangerously hopeful.
You nodded. Cried.
"Promise. I promise S'kuna. Breed me— please."
He should have known you'd be trouble from the moment you first smiled at him.
Heat trapped him. Seeped into every nerve and spasming muscle. Ears drooped. Tail clinging around your waist, as his arms did every inch of you.
He held your hand.
The ache in his hips nulled to the sound of your sweet voice. Tucking promises away in his heart and sealing them with attempted kisses, even when he was choking you.
He felt your orgasm shake through you. Your body locking up as you babbled his name into the humidity. And with that Sukuna finally— finally let go.
Ramming his cock up one, final time. He stilled. Deep and thrumming within you. Heat bursting from his gut and washing over him in a devastating wave of blissful carnage.
Loud and wrecked, his moan vibrated into your back. Hips rocking in small stutters as spluttering, white ropes creamed your cervix. Pouring his thick cum into every inch of your twitching cunt. Brimming you with him and his promise.
"Fucking. . . fuck. . . hah. Take it. Take all this cum in your pretty pussy." Slurs dragged up your throat, to your ear as you face limped into his arm. His voice husked, a vow.
"Just feel me breeding you full. Filling you with my cubs."
You whined, meekly rocking back into him. But he snatched your hips and pressed it down into the mattress with a soft hush.
The throbbing at his base thrummed into swelling. His knot bloomed until it lodged stiff in your cunt. Pulsing with your pathetic little twitches.
He watched your eyes widen and brows furrow. Your body locked up and a whimper strained from your swollen lips. "Mmm. That's your—"
"Mhhm. Just stay still."
Laving his tongue over one of the bites, Sukuna held you near. Savouring your warmth.
The silence finally didn't feel like a void. Even if it was heavy.
He held onto the moment. Clung to its peace as the warmth simmered into cooling sweat on your flesh.
You broke the quiet first.
"Did you mean that?"
He didn't answer you. But his hand cupped your tummy. Fingers still laced in yours as his face tucked against the back of your shoulder.
". . . Was it too much?"
He never thought his voice could ache.
You tried to shift again, and despite the lump in his throat, he clicked his tongue. Squeezed your thigh in warning. "I said stay still, didn't I?"
"You're never too much. Not for me, Sukuna."
There you went, saying his name like it meant something.
Nudging your face to his, Sukuna licked at the tears on your face. A tender act he never thought himself capable of. "Don't say shit like that."
"That I want you? Or that I love you?"
His breath hitched.
Once the knot settled, he pulled out. Hesitantly— especially with your heat still clinging to him.
"You love me?" He muttered, laying a kiss on your cheek. Then to your jaw. To your shoulder. Down your body until you were on your back.
Calloused thumbs swept your folds back. Eyeing the lewd streak of cum leaking out of you.
His eyes found yours as you spoke, tender.
"Do you want me to say it again?" One of your hands raked into his hair.
His face nudged between your thighs. His hummed approval followed the flat of his tongue. Laving up your slit. Licking away the mess and holding your thighs open amidst their intense shivers.
Even as you whined. With your eyes on the brink of tears. They were still soft for him.
"I love you."
You shouldn't.
He shouldn't.
But he still said it back.
"My mate."
Low, and grumbled, not those three words but something that spelt a deeper bond. One he finally had.
After licking you clean, Sukuna bundled you up into the sheets. Pushing himself from the bed and returning with a warm towel and a water bottle.
He cradled the back of your head as he gave you the water.
Worshipped your flesh as he wiped you down. Tracing over bruises and bites. His mark.
And when you were finally tucked into his arms. Dozing off with your head nestled on his heart that now beat for you. His tail curled around your leg and his claws soft on your curves. Sukuna understood.
for every irredeemable quality that Toji Fushiguro possesses, his ability to put you through your own mattress is almost enough to make up for them. almost.
notably, his flakiness, the tendency to borrow cash just to lose it all after betting on horses that come dead fucking last. the second of the two still irks you, 50000 yen loss still very much raw. you know you won’t see that money for maybe another 2-3 weeks, but you suppose he’s making up for it well enough in the interim.
your coupling leaves a damp, sticky puddle spreading under you, yet again forgetting to spread a towel in the rush of ripping each other’s clothes off to fuck like you’re in heat. toji has you splayed on your side with a leg dangling over his shoulder, knelt between your thighs and holding you in a grip that keeps you right where he wants you.
the bed springs of the cheap mattress shift and creak under your shared weight with every thrust, clapping of his pelvis slapping against your ass reverberating loud in the air as he manuevers each inch in and out of your warmth. your skin sticks to his where your bodies tangle and overlaps, nails biting into his fat biceps hard enough to leave your mark, moans leaving you in shaky exhales.
“mmh, ‘ji. right there— right, ooh fuck—”
“yeah? right there?” his eyes drop low, watching his cock disappear into your cunt and pull back out slick and glistening, over and over. “she’s so noisy today. listen to her.” he quiets down and you’re left to listen to the embarrassing wet squelches of the loads he’s already spilled deep being pushed deeper and deeper by his bulbous tip.
if you weren’t as far gone as you currently are, you’d be more on his ass over losing your money, being a kind of shitty boyfriend. too bad you can only think of his perfect mid dick.
your toes curl hard enough to cramp, cunt convulsing around him. big hands find your waist to pull you into his thrusts, no care for how deep that sends him, how full it makes you. he dips to shut you up with a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, swapping spit, swallowing down grunts and moans while his hips keep their pace. your tits shift and bounce with every thrust, nipples peaked, breaths coming out more paced.
he can see everything perfectly from this angle—the lewd sight of your folds stretched arounds his cock, the slick cream of your shared arousal forming a white ring near his base, that lewd expression he’s not sure you know you’re making.
toji is far from unaffected, hand sliding from your hip to push that lifted leg closer to your chest to open you up, letting his cock pound into you at an impossibly deeper angle. you’re sure you’re drooling, waterline leaking tears as you claw at his shoulders and stumble over praise of how good it feels.
“that’s it, hold onto me.” the new angle has cock probing at that soft spot continuously, thumb working firm circles over clit. he’s fucked you enough times to know your tells, but you’re shaking thighs are enough of a non-verbal cue for him. “you gonna cum?”
“m-mhm—I’m c—oh my god—cumming again-” your body can only handle so much pleasure till you’re seizing around him, cunt pulling him deeper in waves as your back arches. your orgasm crests and crashes over you all at once, clawing at his shoulder as you soak his cock for the umpteenth time.
“there it is…there ya fuckin’—” he punctuates with a deep thrust that jostles your frame, strained croak punching out of you from somewhere deep, “—go. make a mess, baby.”
he works you through your peak, thumb unrelenting, hips still snapping as you whine and convulse around him. he tips over faster than the previous times — lips pressing against your ankle, balls pulling tight. he finishes with a long, rough moan that sends heat flooding where he’s emptying into you, walls fluttering helplessly around his throbbing length.
his head drops, sweat dampened inky strands falling forward, hips making small involuntary rolls that drags out both of your pleasure. the room falls silent save for your breathing, his grip on your leg slackening to let it lower. you shift just enough to end up on your back with your legs bracketing either side of his hips. he gradually lowers himself down onto you, solid weight of his frame pinning you under him. gentle hands find his back, splaying wide over hard muscles, skimming lightly over scratch marks.
he burrows his face deeper into your neck, a low grunt warming your skin. “don’t you go starting stuff you can’t finish.”
his friend, still in you at this point, twitches with renewed interest and you can only huff out an exasperated laugh at him. “i’m literally just touching you.”
"exactly."
a/n: first time posting something immediately after writing it 🏃🏽♂️
MDNI 18+ 〃 Ryomen “beefin’ with my chick while I’m in jail” Sukuna.
A/N: it's finally here oh rejoice i am free flies away
Criminal!Sukuna who’s scary as fuck. He’s so jacked it borders on obscene – muscles stacked on muscles and veins crawling beneath tattooed skin, shoulders stretching at the seams of his uniform. He’s got this sorta unperturbed vibe. Real musky and muscular, stalking around like he’ll beat up the first guy that looks at him wrong.
Criminal!Sukuna who got locked up for some undisclosed highly illegal bullshit nobody ever gets a straight answer about. Speculations are thrown around the prison yard – drug dealing. Drug trafficking. Body-part-trafficking. Cannibalism (yay!).
He doesn’t bother to correct anything. Just sits in the corner with an arm slung over one knee, brooding, grumbling “King of Curses, they used to call me..” beneath his breath. The nutjob.
Criminal!Sukuna who has the whole wing convinced there’s no way in hell he’s got a girl on the outside. Surely not. He’s so immature and ill-natured – even more so than his cellmate, Gojo. Which is saying something.
To the little lady who might end up having to deal with this brutish man, well.. Gojo extends his sincerest condolences. He’s fairly certain any sane person would run for the hills.
You are not sane. He supposes this is why you and Sukuna get along.
Criminal!Sukuna who lights up in the most feral way whenever your name comes up. Won’t admit it, of course. But it’s obvious how he stops pacing when the mail comes. He snatches your envelopes out of the stack like a territorial dog, scowling at anyone who looks over.
Criminal!Sukuna who sits in his cell reading pages upon pages of you calling him a brain-dead brute with no sense of decorum. Threats piling up saying you’ll break things off completely if he doesn’t clean up his act when he gets out.
He smiles anyway. Because the letters smell like your perfume. Lips splitting wide in that creepy, clinically unwell way that has Gojo surmising Sukuna must have stockholm-syndromed his way into his relationship somehow.
Criminal!Sukuna who writes back instantaneously. Pencil scritching against paper like he’s got a vendetta – and perhaps he does, because he writes venomous, downright heinous shit. All watch your tone and you won’t find a better fuck, signed with a little sketch of his dick. For good measure, of course.
𓀐𓂺 𓀐𓂸
Criminal!Sukuna who spends half his sentence arguing with you through busted-up phone receivers and glass partitions. Sometimes you’ll be face to face at the visitation area, nary a word spoken. Once, you threaten to “start seeing someone normal”, and he slams the counter so hard the whole thing jostles.
There’s something special in the way you speak to him. Like he’s an exceptionally stupid man, and not a dangerous bastard with an egregiously extensive crime record.
“Do you want to get out of prison,” you hiss, enunciating each syllable with a finger jabbed hard at the glass, “or do you want to buttfuck your cellmate?”
Sukuna’s sprawled in his chair, massive arms folded with a sleazy grin, eyes glimmering with mirth. He leans closer.
“Depends. You gonna dump me if I do?”
“Maybe.”
The phone receiver slams against the cradle on his side so hard the inmate six seats down flinches. Sukuna stands to full height, chair scraping back loud across the floor. Hunched over the counter.
“You try it,” he sneers. “See what happens.”
A normal person would back down right about now. Think: hey, this probably isn’t a healthy or sustainable relationship! I should end things right here!
You do not. Instead, you stand and collect your things, a vein pulsing at your forehead as you muster a sweet smile. “Maybe I will.”
He stares ahead three long seconds after you leave, then drops back into his chair, muttering curses beneath his breath as a reprimanding guard draws near.
Criminal!Sukuna who finally gets that long-awaited conjugal visit slot after years of good behavior (read: not slamming anyone’s head into a wall for about a week and a half). And lucky him, you’ve requested special accommodations! – a little trailer just off prison grounds.
He would’ve been fine fucking you for all to hear, too, but he digresses.
He’s half-hard just from the walk out the confine, veins prominent as his cuff-clad hands twist together. Too busy thinking to bother snarking at the guards who trail behind him.
He wonders what he’ll do when he sees you first. Maybe he’ll smirk, make a snide comment. Or maybe instinct’ll take over, and he’ll bury his face in your hair and his dick in your pussy. Who’s to say?
He’s excited. Very. In many ways.
Criminal!Sukuna who’s one foot into the trailer when he freezes up. The guards have to push him through, slamming the door behind him as his system reboots.
Something tambourines across his ribcage as his eyes meet yours, pounding, pounding– fuck. There you are.
God, he’s missed you.
“You’re staring.”
“..you’re breathing.”
“Yes, that tends to happen.”
His fingers twitch, a soft exhale escaping.
He can’t even find it in himself to be pissed. You’re so pretty. Especially when you’re mad. The angrier you get and the sharper you snap back, the brighter that little gleam in your eyes burns.
Sukuna likes it. He likes it a lot.
He likes you a lot.
The sole reason he even bothered to behave long enough to earn this visit was so he could see that exact frown on your lips once more.
Criminal!Sukuna who’s snapped out of his reverie with the telltale warning of your fingers threading through his hair.
Then those exact lips slam against his with a hiss, your teeth clashing, biting and pulling at his bottom lip as if punishing him for all the time you’ve lost.
His hands – still restrained – press into your waist.
He can’t be bothered to care.
He’s on a sugar high for the first time in months, swallowing down your sativa taste until he’s lightheaded and preening, the outline of kuna junior™ peeking out his orange garb to wave hello.
Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging when his metal cuffs digs into you. In the way. You shoot him a glare, and he snarls beneath his breath.
“Hold still, woman.”
“I am holding still, you dolt–”
There’s a sharp crack!
All you see is the flex of his forearms before the cuffs give way, steel snapping like cheap jewelry and skewing across the trailer floor.
Criminal!Sukuna who hauls you up by your thighs, slamming your back against the flimsy trailer wall so hard a framed motivational poster clatters to the floor. His mouth’s on your throat, kissing tattoos into your skin while he grinds his aching length against the warmth of your clothed cunt.
Criminal!Sukuna who swipes your panties to the side instead of bothering to take them off. There’s a wet spot where he’s been grinding that has his smile spreading mean, two fingers rubbing at your clit before dipping in and crooking up.
“No one’s been spreading you right, huh? Miss me that bad?”
“Missed the dick. Didn’t miss the mouth.”
He snorts at that. Mutters “brat” beneath his breath as he drags his fingers out, slow and glistening, smearing slick along your folds before pushing them back in deep. “Lucky the mouth missed you.”
Criminal!Sukuna who drops to his knees. More collapse than kneel, weight falling hard as he plants himself to the floor, thighs spread wide, hands gripping at your ass to pull you closer. Then he smiles up, tongue running along his molars in anticipation.
Criminal!Sukuna who eats you out like he’s starved. Who dives in with no preamble, mouth sealing over your cunt, tongue flat and broad and greedy as he drags it from your entrance up in one long, lewd-sounding swipe. He takes a moment to grin against your clit, tongue swirling messy circles as his nose presses to the warmth of your skin. Then he’s enveloping the puffy nub between his lips and sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk, humming low when his fingers swipe through your folds and meet a gush of arousal. You buck into the feeling with a whine his name, nails scraping through his scalp, and he practically groans, a hand dropping down to unzip and jerk himself off.
Criminal!Sukuna who gets slower when he’s about to insert himself. Who brushes his tip through your folds, kissing gently at your clit before going back down to gather slick. Then he notches himself at your entrance and thrusts in, agonizingly unrushed, grunting as he sinks into your warmth.
It’s been a while, but his dick still recognizes the feeling like a soldier coming home from war. The fluttering, the way you suck him in like you never forgot him at all – like you waited for him just like he waited for you and worried for him wholly more.
The stretch aches. Your nails rake bloody reality down his back. A groan escapes unbidden – guttural and painstricken and all the more relieved that he’s here, and you’re here, and you’re his.
Criminal!Sukuna who fucks you mean. At first. Sharp and punishing, hips snapping like he’s trying to escape by rocking the trailer to nirvana. Each thrust has a gasp slipping out of your pretty lips, of which he drinks down with fervor, tongue swirling and coaxing yours to muffle the sounds so the guards outside don’t get a free audio show. His balls slap wet against your skin, swollen from months of nothing but his own fist and your perfume-stained letters.
Criminal!Sukuna who slows down when your legs lock tighter around him and your teeth find the side of his neck. He’s still buried to the hilt. His hips rolling in filthy circles, grinding his length against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry.
His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick hair sticking to skin as his voice lowers.
“..say you love me.”
Criminal!Sukuna who lets out a tch when you don’t answer fast enough. Who pulls almost all the way out, letting you feel the drag of every veiny inch, then slams back in so deep your mouth opens in a silent cry.
“Say it. Tell me you’re mine, tell me you– fuuuuuck. Been thinking ‘bout you. Dreaming ‘bout you, every night. Jerked off so much I thought my dick would fall off.. c’mon, baby. Say it. C’mon.”
Criminal!Sukuna who starts begging when your walls pulse around him. Not pretty begging, either – pissed-off. Hoarse.
“Don’t do this to me, please– fuck– just say it. Say you love your piece-of-shit boyfriend. Say you’ll wait. I’ll be good, I swear– only you, just for you, I’ll get out– so say it. Say it. I need you.”
His thrusts turn erratic. Sloppy. He’s close, and he’s trying not to be, trying to drag it out as long as possible before the moment fades into steel bars and white walls of nothing.
Criminal!Sukuna who shivers when you finally card your fingers through his hair, yanking his head back so you can look him in the eye.
You’re pretty. Always pretty, but especially pretty like this, lips swollen and tears pooling at your eyes out of overstimulation.
“I love you, you stupid, stupid man.”
Criminal!Sukuna whose whole body locks up. Whose cock pulses violently inside you – once, twice – and then he’s cumming with a strangled groan, doubling over to hold you tight as he fills you up. He keeps grinding, encouraged by the way your walls milk his length, cum leaking out in a frothy little ring that has his chest preening.
Criminal!Sukuna who doesn’t pull out after. Just stays seated inside, trembling, face buried in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped around you like you might disappear. Who mumbles against your skin, barely audible –
“..missed this pussy.”
He’s still half-hard, twitching every time your walls clench around his oversensitive length. Already thinking about round two.
But despite his perverted words, and his overeager dick, you know exactly what he’s trying to say.
Criminal!Sukuna who spends the rest of your visit inside you in some capacity – fucking, eating you out with your thighs locked around his head, making you ride him on the tiny bed ‘til the frame creaks dangerously. Every time he cums, he begs to hear you say you love him again, hissing it back at you like a promise.
When the guards finally bang on the door to collect him, he snarls “five more minutes” and shoves his tongue back in your mouth. Trying to swallow you whole and take you with him.
Criminal!Sukuna who leaves the trailer with his shoulders loosened, lips swollen, fresh bite marks ringed around his throat and oh-so visible with his head held high. The dopiest, most lovesick grin painted fond across his lips.
He’s gonna get out of here. And when he does, his girl’s gonna be waiting.
––––
Criminal!Sukuna who gets released on parole after god knows how long. The guards walk him out, and the world feels a little different. The air is clearer. And his woman–
.
Where the hell are you?
Criminal!Sukuna who’s a little disappointed when his parole officer is the one to escort him home. But he can’t be too upset about it. You must’ve had it hard, too. He’ll make it up to you.
Criminal!Sukuna who almost breaks down the door on his way in.
DAAAARLING. GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIIIIIIL–
You’re sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, remote in one hand. Unimpressed.
“Hi,” you sniff.
His eye twitches.
“Woman.”
“Yes?”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
He drops his duffel bag with a heavy thud. “Yeah. I can see that.”
Criminal!Sukuna who starts prowling around the apartment like a bloodhound. He checks the kitchen and the hallway and the bathroom and the bedroom – including the closet, the door to which he swings open so hard it bangs against the wall.
Bathtub. Bed. Under the bed. Back out again.
He stands silent for a long moment before storming back into the living room, planting himself in front of the couch and looming over you with a scowl.
“You told me you were seeing someone.”
You lean a little to the left so he doesn’t block your view of the TV, ignoring the freshly released menace like you haven’t been yearning for his presence for the past four years. Serves him right. “I told you maybe.”
“Maybe means yes.”
“No,” you reply, calm, “Maybe means maybe.”
“Maybe means there could be some guy sitting in my apartment right now.”
“Our apartment.”
“Same difference.”
You don’t respond, and he feels the panic set in.
Sukuna trusts you. He knows you waited, and he knows you didn’t have to.
What he’s more uncomfortable with is the memory of all those nights in his cell staring at the ceiling wondering if he would come back changed.
It’s not like he’d know if or when that would happen. It’s not like you’re blind to that possibility. You’ve probably spent just as much time wondering the same thing – if the man who came home would still be the one you loved, or just some asshole you’d have to learn to live with until your lease was up.
And if you did anticipate that, and you did move on, and there is some other guy? What then? What useless method of intimidation or blackmail or torture could possibly earn back your heart if he had already lost it somewhere along the way?
You glance up after a bit. A wry smile blooms across your lips when you see the worried set of his brow.
“There is no guy,” you snort.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you pick me up?”
“You know where the apartment is.”
“..would’ve liked balloons, at least.”
You register the little quiver in his voice with a hum.
It’s kind of funny, because when he first got into prison four years ago, he was the one who tried to cut things off. Said he didn’t know you at first – assumed you wouldn’t want to associate with a convict. And now here he is, asking for welcome-home balloons.
“Wow,” you muse, pausing your show, “prison really softened you.”
He glares down at you. You smile back.
And then he lets out a long, aggravated exhale, drags a hand down his face, and plops down onto the couch. The whole thing dips under his weight.
“Missed you,” he murmurs.
You laugh and let him pull you into his arms.
“You big baby.”
Criminal!Sukuna who’s “reformed”. On paper. Ankle monitor long gone and patrol officer off his case. He’s even scored a legitimate (albeit mundane) part-time mechanic gig, which you’re 90% sure he got solely because the owner of the shop used to joyride with him. Some big burly guy named Toji who overcharges his clients and busts all his earnings in a casino at 4am, no doubt.
Still, the itch never leaves.
Criminal!Sukuna who can’t quite give up that pesky little habit of his. He’ll steal anything he can. Snatching your lacey panties right out the hamper just to shove them in the washer four hours later after jerking off until the fabric is soaked. And if ever you ask, he’ll just shrug and feign innocence.
“Dunno. Maybe they ran away from your stank ass pu–”
You don’t let him fuck you for the next two weeks, and from the desperate look on his face when you pass by, it isn’t difficult to assume he’s in just as much agony as he was when he was behind bars.
Criminal!Sukuna who “borrows” your car keys and drives off. He doesn’t have anywhere particularly important to be, but the jingle in his palm and the roar of the engine give him that good ol’ dopamine hit. He goes down three blocks to the gas station just to buy the same energy drink you already have three packs of in the fridge, then comes back home and acts like he wasn’t just driving on a suspended license.
Criminal!Sukuna who’s reintegrated into society. And yet he’ll never truly get rid of the urge – the whisper that he could do something, and he could probably get away with it, too.
But he won’t. He’d kill himself before getting locked up again.
♯┆asking heian era!sukuna to just give it to you ˎˊ˗ 18+
The smell of incense permeates the air of the chamber—smoke and spice curling from shallow bowls. Shadows lick at the corners of the room, faint candlelight painting your body in a soft glow.
Sensory stimulation on sensory stimulation, and yet all you can focus on is the man above you. The bulk of his body takes up the space between your thighs, keeping you spread as he kisses a path up the bareness of your inner flesh, mouthing at your core.
It’s been like this for ages—long enough that you’ve lost count.
You’re already flushed, sprawled on the bed like an offering, silken robes long discarded. You bite back a plea, trying not to seem too impatient. It’s still jarring to see the most feared man in the land between your thighs, properly sated just from the taste of you. His proportions are otherworldly, prep near-crucial just to take him.
…but you’re emboldened this time—by having taken him before, by the ease with which you’d accommodated his size. You haven’t accounted for the fact that it had only been that easy those times because he’d run his tongue all over the shape of your cunt 'til you were half-fucked out and slick to the point of ruin. Your body seems conditioned to react to him; you’re already dripping, fingers twitching against the bedding. Itching to reach out and touch him.
“My lord… can we—” Pools of red lock onto you, gaze making your pulse skip before you continue, “Can we skip the… all of this? Just this once?”
He tilts his head as though studying you, gaze narrowing before his lips split into a smile that makes your stomach clench painfully with arousal.
“How impatient.”
Impudent, even. A lesser concubine would have been discarded for less. And here you are, trying to deny him the pleasure of feasting on you.
“You dare rush me?”
Panic flares hot in your chest. You shake your head hastily. “No, my lord. I assure you—”
He tuts, and it’s enough to silence you. Shifting onto his haunches, he peers down at you where you lie. “You forget yourself.”
Your throat works around a thick swallow, apology forming on your tongue for your impertinence—but Sukuna's already moving.
Free hands work his robes aside, barely any layers keeping him from being as naked as you are. The sight of his freed cock sparks need in you like a live wire. It’s heavy, veins like corded rope winding up the length. The ruddy crown leaks as if to taunt you.
“Think twice about this, girl.”
You’re shamefully eager, brain turned to putty. A dreamy sound escapes you, eyes glossed over. “Please, my lord.”
And what kind of king would he be to deny his favourite most tolerated concubine of what she’s begging for?
“If you insist.”
Sukuna strokes from base to tip in slow, even pulls, eyes never straying from your face. You don’t dare shift your gaze either, breath stuttering the moment he inches further into your space. His hands push your thighs higher before his weight alone keeps them pinned. It’s some sort of hybrid mating press, ankles on his shoulders, the stretch almost ache-inducing.
The blunt head drags through the slick at your entrance, smearing it along the wide crown as if to remind you how unready you are,how careless your demand truly was. There’s no time to second-guess before he notches himself against your eager hole and begins easing in.
Oh. How wrong you were.
How did you even think for a second that you could take this? Take him? What was wrong with you?
It’s almost too much. Your walls shift to accommodate him, slick enough to let the head slide in with a wet pop - a tremor running through you from the feeling that alone causes.
Your nails dig into his biceps before you even realize you’re clutching him, a cry strangling in your throat as he pushes deeper.
“Hush. You asked me to…” His hips shift in gentle thrusts with what’s already settled into you. “Just give you it.” His cock stretches you inch by inch, a burn that borders on unbearable. Your walls flutter around him, spasming at the intrusion. So good. But god. “Is that not what I’m doing?”
By the time he’s seated to the hilt, every nerve in your body is screaming. Your clit pulses eagerly, and he easily soothes it with slow sweeps of his thumb that have you squeezing around him, pulling the best sounds out of the man.
“That’s it. Open up for your king…”
There’s a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as his hips roll in easy thrusts, seating him to the hilt over and over again, heavy balls colliding wetly against your rear.
“L-Lord Sukuna…aah—”
“What?” he mocks, a low sound in his throat. “It’s too much, huh? I told you I’d take my time. Work up this pretty little—” His pelvis shifts, the roughness of his happy trail grating deliciously against your aching clit, punctuating his words. “—cunt.”
He shifts his weight, sending himself deeper still. The coil in your belly pulls taut.
“Said I’d make you feel so good. But no—you said you could handle it. Now look at you.”
The King of Curses above you inches back ever so slightly before sinking deep again. The keen that slips past your lips reverberates across the chamber walls. You’re near-babbling at this point, upper hands cradling your face like armor, sharp nails grazing soft skin as he thumbs away your tears almost tenderly. It’s obscene just how careful he seems to be with his grip while he splits you apart below.
“Do you understand why I take my time now?” His tone is nearly patronizing, tinted with the faintest trace of fondness if you paid close enough attention. It makes the heat in your belly flare, your cunt getting slicker around him, noises leaving you shameless. You finally melt into the searing press of him, enough for him to drive in and out with increasing pace. Despite his mocking, he’d been waiting for you.
“Ah…haah, god—”
He laughs, chest rumbling against yours with how close he’s pressed. “No gods here but me, girl.”
The thrust that follows clearly has you losing your head, your nails biting into the skin at his nape as if to anchor yourself.
“S’too… too—hng!”
“But you said you wanted it. Didn’t you?” His lower hands keep your thighs pinned close to your chest, moans hiccuping out of you with every swab of his fat tip against your sweet spot.
He pulls almost all the way out until only the fat head stretches your entrance, then drives back in, bottoming out with a wet squelch that makes your eyes roll back. “You wanted it… so now you’re going to cum on my cock.”
“Then I’ll have my fill of you like I should've in the first place.”
ugly fuck LMAOOO😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭whip it out and slap me with it😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭genuinely hard😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭HE'S SO SEXYYYYYY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
“define a prima facie case.” the words give you a pause, brows scrunching near the center, cutting through your haze momentarily. you’d almost forgotten that you'd been the one to ask for his help.
having a boyfriend actively practicing as an attorney as an aspiring one yourself comes with its own perks. for one, assignments come easy. he knows law intimately with how long he's been practicing, can break down even the most complex concepts to get you to understand in ways your professors seemingly cannot. with your finals quickly approaching you truly need all the practice you can get - from mock trials to flash cards, there's no method you haven't tried to get all of this information to stick in your head. not a day gone without some type of review over your notes.
study sessions usually happen at your desk, hunched over printed documents with nearly all the content highlighted, margins messy with your handwritten notes and question marks.
but you're not hunched over a desk right now—you haven't been for the last 20 minutes since hiromi's gotten home. instead, you're in his lap with your shorts and tee thrown god knows where, blue light glasses pushed up into your hair because you'd been deep into a case review before he'd gotten home.
he feels thicker inside you, clit throbbing and overly sensitive from the slow grind he’s set on maintaining. his tie is loosened, suit jacket tossed aside and his dress pants shoved low enough to get you on his cock…but otherwise still clothed.
a break is what he'd framed it as, kissing across your neck from behind, massaging your shoulders. a break is what you'd hoped it would be seeing as you're both half naked and connected at your centers. something to work your stress off after hours of beating law terminology into your head. the question comes out of no where, really, and it takes you couple seconds to get out a very eloquent response. "huh?"
“pri-ma. facie.” he drags out every syllable like he’s making sure you don’t mishear him. like the issue is how he’d said it rather than the fact that he’s hilted balls deep inside you. “define it for me. it’s an easy one.” heavy hands clamp down on your waist like weights to keep you from moving, all stimulation momentarily halted. “the longer you take to answer, the longer we go without moving.” he offers you one deep upward thrust that has your toes curling, fingers biting into his chest. “prima facie. hurry.”
“I—okay? okay, prima facie, uhh.” and you can agree that the first term he pulls out is an easy one, something you’d learn in an intro course…but your thoughts aren’t exactly organized at this very moment. “sufficient evidence—ah—when sufficient evidence is presented to allow the jury to make a judgment? enough evidence to proceed to trial.”
“good. can it be overthrown? and if yes, when?” he lifts you no more than half an inch before seating you again, throbbing and leaving a messy mix of your arousal near his base.
“by challenging evidence by the opposing s-side.” it’s ridiculously hard to concentrate with how deep he’s pressed, core spasming around his unmoving length, eyes watering. "that’s it, right? hiromi, do something.”
though delayed, he rewards your answer with a loosened grip and his hips rolling upwards. you’re eager to meet him, left to your devices to drop downward into his thrusts. an arm comes up to band around his neck for leverage because being denied for less than 5 minutes somehow makes it feel better, coil in your stomach hot and pulling tighter the more you rock your hips. “mm—god. right there, hiromi.”
the words set something off apparently. big hands slide back to grab the fat of your ass and the first proper, guided bounce has your breath punching out of you. pulls you up until just the tip is inside before guiding you back down, letting gravity do half the work. you meet him thrust for thrust of course, thighs aching and all. pleasure so intense that it outweighs a growing burn from your pace. “haah—hiro..oh my god.”
the hand on your ass grips at the soft flesh, pulling you down harder with each thrust, making sure he gets as deep as possible. it’s overwhelmingly good, almost too much. that pre-orgasmic wave of warmth washes over you, breathing picking up. hiromi’s just as in tune with your tells as you are, he knows you’re getting close.
and like a proper boyfriend does, his hands move to hold your hips again, letting you slam down one more time before moving stops completely. a whine of pure frustration leaves you, glossy eyes flying open to pin him with a glare, breaths leaving you in heavy puffs of air. “why the fuck—”
“tortious interference?” he at least seems to be faring no better than you are. inky hair beginning to plaster to the sweat beading his forehead, slight flush high on his cheeks. the hands keeping you down carry the slightest tremor and you’d laugh at him if you weren’t so wound up.
you let your eyes fall shut for half a second, breathing slowly to regain a semblance of your composure. “this isn’t fun anymore. you’re…you’re tortiously interfering with my emotions.”
that gets a laugh out of him, though strained with your current shared predicament. “that’s not proper usage of the term.”
“does it look like I care about proper fucking usage! fuck me, oh my god.” any and every attempt to rock your hips is futile, grip on you iron-clad. “you’re actually the worst. can’t we study later?”
“first off, you’ll care about proper usage when you’re in the exam and having to define it—” one hand leaves your hip, clapping down on one side of your ass heavily, “second, quit being ungrateful. you asked for my help with this.”
the slap leaves heat blooming across your skin where his palm connected, feeling your pussy clench around him involuntarily from the impact.
“but it’s not helping..” the breathiness in your voice betrays just how much you liked it, shifting to lean closer to his chest. his shirt is textured against your stiffened nipples, arms banding around his neck, fingers sliding into the strands at his nape. “baby, how is—mmh—how is this helping me? I can’t think.”
“you’re giving yourself less credit than you should here, angel.” hiromi’s hand comes to cup your jaw, meeting you halfway to lock lips in a short kiss, “tell me what tortious interference is and I’ll help you cum.”
“is part of being my boyfriend torturing me?” you dip to kiss him again, jaw still in his hold, hand still on your ass. you’re freely rolling your hips now, gently lifting and sinking down on his cock, that pleasurable hazy feeling washing over you. “doesn’t this feel better than b-boring law terminology, hiro? hm?”
god, it does. but what would he be if he admitted that to you? “this—our profession is not boring. I need to help you study.”
our. as though you’re a practicing defense attorney like he is. it has the corners of your lips lifting, roll of your hips coming a little firmer. grinding your clit against the neat patch at his base. “okay, maybe not boring but still..” you pull back to look at him (more admiring really). him and his hair mussed from your fingers, the light flush spread coloring his cheeks. “why don’t you help me study biology instead? anatomical positions and allll that.”
“that bears 0 relevance to—fuck—law.” his voice breaks when you lift and seat him again, somehow pressing somewhere deeper than before. you’re kissing again before you know it, his hand finding the curve of your ass despite his words. guiding your grinding, your little lifts up and down on his lap. “2 more definitions. how about that?”
you don’t even have to think it over for too long. “when a third party disrupts a contractual relationship. it has to be intentional.”
“good. what must the plaintiff prove?”
“uh, crap. I think it’s..they have to prove a contract exists? and that the breach was intentional.” your lips move from his lips to across his cheek, down the slope of his jaw as he hums in his approval.
“see? you know it.” letting you grind and fuck yourself on his cock freely is rewarding enough, and you only have a question left as is. his hands guide you into harder movements. lifting you up and pulling you down, meeting you halfway. each thrust has your breasts dragging against his chest, nipples catching on the fabric of his shirt in a way that makes you whimper. “last one, angel. what’s per curiam.”
it’s almost laughable how simple he’s making this, clearly just as wound up as you are. "means 'for the court' in english." you get the words out between stuttered breaths, tongue darting out to taste the salt on his skin. “a decision by the court that isn’t..what’s the word..isn’t attributed to one person.”
“there we go.” he’s smiling down at you like you’ve passed the exam itself and well, self control hasn’t ever exactly been your strong suit when he looks at you like that.
you use his tie as leverage to pull closer, face moving out of his neck to crush your mouth to his again and the barely there control he held shatters into pieces. you’re both moving now, meeting each other thrust for thrust. when you drop down he's already pushing up into you, skin hitting skin. his dress pants are getting ruined, sticky mess spreading where you're connected, but he couldn't care less. too focused on the way you're taking him, the way your walls flutter every time he bottoms out. too focused on breathing filth into your mouth between kisses that don’t seem to stop, squeezing and caressing your ass like it’s the only thing his hands know how to do. “my smart, smart girl.”
the words make you feel hot all over, especially down south and you want to do nothing more than drop on his lap harder, seat his cock deeper than he already is.
"easy," he murmurs, hands smoothing across your sides. slowing your pace instead of letting you. rush your orgasm. hiromi grinds you down on his lap - deep, circular motions that have him pressing everywhere inside you at once. veins scraping your walls perfectly. "no need to rush.”
it doesn’t help. neither does the way he begins kissing down your neck, soft lips canvasing the length of your collarbones before moving low low lower. tongue wrapping around one pert nipple. you can’t control the sound that leaves you, breathing harshly through your teeth, eyes fluttering with the slightest graze of his teeth. “always working so hard. stressing yourself out.”
speech fails you, any words you might’ve managed with a clearer mind replaced by a garbled sound and a near fucked out nod. “mhmm..”
the stimulation against your clit is constant, almost too much. your back arches, pushing more of yourself into his mouth, and hiromi makes an approving sound. his tongue works over the sensitive bud while one hand keeps you grinding on his lap, the other coming up to palm your other breast. “love taking care of you.” he pulls off your tit with a wet pop, eyes lidded with his pupils blown. “tell me how it feels.”
'“so good. so—gosh, i’m gonna cum.” it doesn’t take long for your pleasure to build when he’s grinding you on his lap, acting the way he is. “you’re so deep.”
hiromi’s not far off - forehead pressed against the fat of your breast, breathing heavy as he begins bouncing you on his lap again. a hand lowers to where you’re connected, pad running along where you’re spread around him, settling on your clit to circle firmly.
“h-hiromi..”
"I know," he murmurs, nosing at your skin, voice soothing even as his thumb works your clit. "I know, angel. let it happen. let me feel it."
your orgasm crests with a firm press of his thumb into your clit, pounding upward into you. hips canting to hit your sweet spot non-stop. his thrusts grow sloppy as your cunt draws him deeper, ring of your combined arousal forming near his base.
“hiromi-hiro—oh my god.” an arm quickly banding around your waist keeps you from bucking away with the peak of your climax that has you crying out, head tossed back. he kisses at your bared neck, tightness at the base of his cock finally snapping. ropes on ropes of white flood your quivering insides, too much and not enough at all. his hips snap up one more time to seat him as deep as possible, emptying the rest of his spend.
time feels suspended for a moment - you’re not sure how long you’re there slumped into his arms, both breathing heavily. both trying to catch your breath. his hands stroke up and down your back in soothing motions, cock softening and keeping you plugged with his cum.
“..i’d be surprised if you actually retain any of that.”
"might not." a tired laugh, but a laugh nonetheless leaves you, “we'll just keep going till the info sticks then.”
▶︎︎ Dollhouse (starring . Toji Fushiguro & Jin Itadori)
synopsis . In which you’re the neighborhood babysitter who’s caught the attention of the neighborhood's hottest dilfs. When Toji can’t afford to pay you, Jin steps in to save the day with an offer that pulls all three of you together for a night.
content . afab!reader, size kink, manhandling, threesome, heavy tension, spitting, fiiiiilth, perversion, finger sucking, men flirting, breeding kink(s), implied age gap—they’re older (yuji & megumi are kids), lotsss of oral sex, slight humiliation, mentions of panty stealing, tojikuna sneak (i can’t help myself), double penetration, pussy slapping, lots of dirty talk (they’re both nasty with it), overstim, dumbification, general mentions of sukuna, petnames, surprise ending (as always), almost & eventually getting caught, fluff if you read this with ur eyes closed, "hints" of jin x toji, etc.
word count . 8.6k | author's note: art from here—ive had this in my drafts ever since i set my eyes on tht art btw. this fic goes out to my lovers @uhnosav & @fricks since ik this was most anticipated by you both <3
You were never the strongest person when it came on to hot older men—a fact of which you'd come to terms with long before you started babysitting the children of said hot older men.
And yet, for some reason, Toji Fushiguro was finding utmost difficulty in convincing you to do one little favor for him.
Now, being one—out of two—of your neighborhood's most desired single fathers, Toji thought this conversation with you would go far smoother than it was currently playing out. Perhaps it was his own ego that deluded him to this point or your persistent stubbornness but, either way, he wasn't asking you for that much.
You'd been dodging his texts and calls all week prior, so when he caught sight of you fishing through an assortment of vegetables at the local grocery store, he figured he couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to speak with you.
It's been about fifteen minutes since he started running that big mouth of his and yet most of his words seem to be going through one ear and out the other.
Why? Because it's obvious he wants you to watch Megumi for free tonight.
His hair was a mess of dark tresses like always and the casual wear he wore to conceal his unfairly beefy body never failed to coax your eyes into dipping towards places they probably shouldn't have—catching the way his broad shoulders strained against the worn-out black shirt he had on.
You listened keenly while he complained though, giving short nods as if you didn't know where he was going with the bullshit list of complaints he was dumping on you…
"—Said all that to say, I need ya' tonight, but I don't have the money," And there it was. Toji finished off with a heavy exhale, staring at you with those heavyset green eyes of his and waiting for some sort of reaction.
He’d spent all that time listing bills, repairs, school fees—and a bunch of other extra stuff—in hopes of properly fooling you.
You halfway roll your eyes at the man, having seen straight through him from the beginning. “I dunno, Mr. Fushiguro. The last time we had this conversation, I ended up watchin’ Megumi for a whole month—free of charge.” You reminded him sternly.
Toji often had a way of letting that intimately-shaded gaze of his silently convince you into giving him what he wanted. You hated how easily you’d fallen for it in the past but it was finally time to put your foot down and somewhat stand up for yourself.
His eyes would flick over you without a single care in the world as to whether or not you caught onto the heat behind them and his jaw neatly sat taut with the tension of stress in between his words, “I know, I know. But, c’mon, y’know m’good for it… eventually. I paid ya’ back, didn’t I?”
You shrug rather sheepishly before glancing towards the shopping cart full of groceries in front of you, “Yeah, after another three weeks of reminding you to.”
Toji clicks his tongue and steps closer, the scent of his thickly cheap cologne seeping into your space in a way that made you feel hot. “That won’t happen this time, I promise. It’s jus’ for one night. Can’t you do that for me?”
You look at him, trying to ignore how his gaze unreasonably has you second guessing your will to say no. “I have other kids to watch over tonight, Mr. Fushiguro. Other kids whose father's pay me on time.”
“Fuck those kids,” Toji puffs out without thinking. He quickly regrets his words when he sees the look of disapproval plastered all over your face. Clearing his throat, “Megumi is your favorite to look over, no?”
“He's quieter in comparison to the rest so, sometimes, yeah.” You explain to him honestly. Your full attention diverts from him as you reach over for the item you'd been scouring aisles for prior to him approaching you, dumping it into your cart after.
Toji has to refrain from acting like a big ole brat in reaction to not exactly getting his way with you. Sighing, “Then why is this even up for debate?” He asks before inching closer to your cart and then placing a hand on its edge to lean against, “C’mon, doll, y’know you wanna do this favor for me. I'll make it up to ya'."
You'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling the least bit tempted when he spoke to you like that.
Looking at him in a way that makes him feel like you weren't convinced in the slightest, “Only if I’m getting paid." Your words fall flatly off your tongue and his shoulders slump as you continue, "I’m not gonna keep repeating myself to you—“
“Excuse me,” A kindhearted voice soothes in from your left and Toji’s right.
When you both turn, you’re met with gentle eyes hidden behind a neatly sat pair of glasses that are edged with a slivery frame. The bright pink hair strikes your recognitive nerve and makes you sigh in relief.
Now, if you had to pick a favorite client or family, it would definitely be the Itadori’s. Though, their family was a lot rowdier than the Fushiguro’s.
The sweater adorned over Jin's body is nothing short of spotless and you hate how it's one of the first things you truly register as that initial wave of surprise fades. The clean white knit that clings close enough to his frame to hint at the solid build hiding beneath it does little to help you stay focused on the conversation at hand.
You take in his appearance in the same fashion you took in Toji's—catching how his crisp sleeves push up just enough to reveal his forearms, a neat silver watch wrapped around his wrist as his hand unconsciously flexes against the handle of the basket he's carrying.
“Ah, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Jin hums in that easy going tone that has you forgetting about Toji for a moment and melting on the spot.
Your eyes widen all apologetically as you shake your hand to dismiss his benevolently murmured statement. “No, no, you’re fine.” You insist before cutting your gaze back Toji's way, “We were just wrapping up anyway, right, Mr. Fushiguro?”
He rolls his eyes sassily and scoffs right in your face, “Like hell we were.”
“I am not babysitting for free.” You press.
Under that brawny frame of his, something desperate threatens to spill out from his expression as he frowns, “But—“
“I could pay for him.” Jin offers suddenly, mindlessly looking past you.
You both turn your heads again.
“What?” You blink.
Tojis scoffs, “Or she could stop bein’ such a brat ‘n just—“
“Toji, c’mon now." Jin cuts in, ever the mediator. "You're looking for a sitter for tonight, yes?" His question dulls over to Toji as he brushes against you to reach for some tomatoes and bring them closer for inspection.
Grumpily redirecting his displeased gaze elsewhere, Toji sighs, "Yeah.."
"Perfect because Yuji's being watched tonight!" Jin tells him immediately, weighing the tomatoes in his palm and switching through a few before settling on the one closest to perfection.
You also hate how closely you're paying attention to him but, it's a habit you've yet to break out of.
At the sound of his cheerfully expressed statement, your eyes get impossibly wider and you try your best to send the all-too-kind man a disagreeing look, "Mr. Itadori, please, you don't have to—"
"No, no, I insist." He tells you, the softness of his gaze promptly wafting over your worried expression. "Our kids are best buds and you're Yuji's favorite sitter, I don't mind covering all charges."
How responsible, you think to yourself.
Toji clicks his tongue before you can respond to that, clearly irritated, "You don't gotta do that, Jin."
"I know," Jin sets one of the tomatoes back, feeling more satisfied with another. "I want to."
Dryness invades your throat and suddenly you're hating every slight bodily reaction you're having because of this man—whether it be internal or external. The way his words run off of his tongue, all intentional and collected as if showing off were the last thing he meant to do in the moment.
There was something about how he wasn't speaking like he wanted to swoop in and make Toji look bad—how he makes his offers like it's the most obvious thing to do, like taking care of things 'n people is just second nature to him.
Fuck, you're quickly reminded why his family is one of your favorites to be involved with. "That's uh," You clear your throat so that your admiration for the man doesn't blurt itself out, "That's really generous of you."
Jin's gaze shifts onto you again, this time with a little more warmth than you're expecting. Since he's closer now, a faint scent of something fresh sweeps your way. "Well, you'd be doing the both of us a favor," He smiles reassuringly, "Yuji's mentioned how he wants to hang out with Megumi more and I'd hate to disappoint him knowing I had the perfect opportunity to set that up for him."
Something embarrassingly dramatic flips about in your chest. Of course Yuji's feelings are his top priority.
The weight on the side of your cart from Toji's leaning on it lifts away as he folds his arms and mutters something—assumably slick—under his breath.
Your ears don't catch it but Jin's seem to with the way he chuckles lightly and pats the man on his shoulder completely unbothered, "You can pay me back whenever you're able." He says plainly before adding, "Or don't. Whatever works best for you, Toji."
You're much too busy glancing back and forth between the two men, noticing how comical the contrast is.
Toji, much taller and brooding—leaning against your cart again like he owns the damn thing and all space surrounding, and rumpled cottony shirt stretching unfairly against his massive build.
Meanwhile there was Jin, who's posture was straighter and sweater brighter as if he put love into every wash. Even the groceries in his basket were neatly arranged like he actually planned for every meal throughout the week, while Toji carried a singular pack of beer.
The difference makes you snort, lips twitching to bite back your amused smile before you look away in hopes of hiding your reaction.
Jin notices first—because of course his attention divides between you and Toji flawlessly—and then a flicker of something unknown twirls within his eyes as he tilts his head slightly, "Unless uh, this is too much for you? Watching both kids?"
Now your stomach was fluttering. You wanted to roll your eyes at yourself, at how easy a simple question had you feeling like a ditz. "Huh?" You gape, shaking out of your daze directly after, "No, it's fine. I can make it work."
Toji exhales rather victoriously—happy to have gotten what he wanted one way or another.
Jin's smile spreads wider and every feature on his face seems to soften again, "Good. I'll also throw in a little extra for all these last-minute changes."
"You really don't have to do that," You say quickly.
"I know," He echoes his earlier statement, "I want to."
There it is again.
Your gaze dips at that, finding difficulty in keeping yourself calm with how smoothly things work themself out with him. "Thank you, Mr. Itadori," You manage pliantly, eyes caught on how the white fabric stretches faintly against his arm as he shifts his basket from one hand to the other.
You felt like you were going insane—gawking at both of these men like you didn't know any better. Control yourself, slut.
"Jin," The man corrects suddenly, earning the eye contact from you again.
You swallow thickly enough for both he and Toji to notice. Which is exactly why the darker haired man rolls his eyes, "Oh brother."
"Thank you, Jin." You say as you ignore Toji entirely.
Stepping back to give you enough space, "Well then, I'll see you all tonight, yeah?"
You nod and Toji grumps, earning a nudge on his arm from Jin just as you begin to wave the men off and turn down a nearby aisle to continue your shopping from earlier.
The two men watch you leave with the same look in their eyes before you disappear from their line of sight entirely. They stand together silently for a moment as the squeak of your cart steadily fades into the low hum of the store and blends in with all other sounds.
Then, Jin lets out a sigh that causes the air between them to change, "She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” He comments lightly, turning toward the other assortment of produce as he proceeds to his shopping.
His half rhetorical question prompts Toji to linger around. “That’s one word for it.” He says evenly, looking to him shortly after, “Now what’s the real reason behind why you did that?”
Jin doesn't move his attention from the vegetables ahead, “Hm? What do you mean?”
“I’m not buyin’ this nice guy crap," Toji's arms unfold and he slips his hands into his spacey pockets, the fabric of his sweats weighing down a little and revealing a teasing slither of smooth skin that Jin just barely peaks over at. "You can be honest with me, Jin.”
He chuckles, “Fine, fine. I’ll admit it, I do like having her over." Lifting his head to meet Toji's questioning stare, the silver frames of his glasses manage to capture the fluorescent lights overhead. "Seeing her tend to Yuji is… heartwarming, to say the least.”
Toji's mouth twitches, his scar moving in tandem, “Yeah, ‘guess so.”
“You don’t agree?" Jin tilts his head slightly as he puts on a more assessing look, "As far as her watching over Megumi goes, I mean.”
Toji shrugs not-so-casually, “Heartwarming isn’t how I’d describe it.”
A moment of silence stretches between the two men again, lacking the sense of awkwardness that's to be expected from no immediate response. Distant shopping carts are heard rattling at the ends of various aisles, people are heard laughing, kids fussing. And yet, the two hold one another in place via gazes far too intense to be platonic.
Eventually, Jin blinks and a mix of curiosity and innocence colors over his doe-like brown eyes, “Then how would you describe it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Toji's tongue swats out to wet his lips unconsciously as he inhales slowly. Then, the word, “Sensual.” drives out of his mouth in a manner so smooth it causes Jin's brain to short circuit.
“Oh.” He chokes briefly after, surprise etching itself into his face.
Catching the silence beneath his reaction, Toji huffs, "Don't give me that look."
Jin's lashes begin to flutter elsewhere before he clears his throat, "I didn’t realize I was giving you one."
The base in Toji's voice unknowingly pitches deeper, "You always do." He blurts out, cocking his head to the side a bit as his eyes glaze down the slightly shorter man's body. "Same one you used to give me."
That statement makes Jin visibly tense up. The two men were far from strangers, even outside of the relationship between their kids. Years back and you could find Toji and Sukuna—Jin's slightly older and rougher twin brother—in a very toxically induced relationship.
So, when Toji's subtle reference to the way Jin acted towards him around that time threatens to add to the current tension between them, he can't help but freeze up a little.
"That... was a long time ago," Jin murmurs eventually.
Toji steps closer with intent, invading the little space that remained between them as he does so. "Wasn't that long," He corrected, "I still remember how you used to watch me go in and out of your brother's place like you had somethin' to say. It's unfortunate I never got that outta' you—whatever it is you had on your mind."
Jin scoffs louder than he means to, "It's not unfortunate at all considering I never had anything to say. Hence why nothing was ever said." Meeting Toji's eyes again, "You were imagining things."
A crooked smirk spreads out across scarred lips, "Yeah?" The word slips off of his tongue like it's something dirty. Jin hates how it causes him to divert his gaze again. "S'not my fault you were never good at hidin' it." Toji sneers.
"Hiding what—" Jin cuts himself clean off, his jaw beginning to flex from the stress this conversation was bringing about. After pausing to collect himself, "We're not discussing the past."
Voice softening only a fraction, Toji eases annoyingly closer, "We kinda are, Jin."
"No," He argues firmly, "We were discussing her, and the topic of conversation should've remained on her."
The moment following those words is one filled with them holding eyes. Their own history of lingering glances is thick within the air. Toji and Sukuna were quite the pair in the past but Toji and Jin existed as nothing more than a muddled mess of feelings that were never meant to be addressed.
"Y'know what, you're right." Toji nods finally, glancing off. "But, remind me what it is about her that makes you feel so uh," He clicks his tongue, "Heartwarmed?"
Jin finally manages to ignore the intimidation Toji's trying to pass off, straightening up in the way he stands before shamelessly repeating himself, "The way she cares for Yuji."
Something cockier threads into Toji's eyes, "That does somethin' for you?"
"You're asking that like you don't agree," Jin counters quickly, scoffing. "Like you haven't felt it yourself."
Toji shrugs, "I haven’t.”
“You just said it feels sensual for you.”
“Exactly," The seemingly pointless direction of this talk was going to drive Jin crazy any second now. It was downright aggravating how Toji had a response for everything, "So, I don’t agree with you. It’s not heartwarming to watch her. My eyes ain’t that respectful.”
A subtle vein ticks against Jin's jaw, “Should be.”
“Yours never were.” Toji huffs.
That seems to do it.
“Toji.” Jin spits out coldly—voice lacking whatever warmth it held earlier when you were around.
Far too delightfully, Toji smiles as he mocks him, “Jin.”
Another beat of silence pass between them before Jin finds himself entirely fed up with this and remembers that he could just walk away. So, he does.
Turning on his heels and breaking the silence with the sound of his footsteps as he tries to hurry off before Toji can say anything else.
Unfortunately for him, Toji—ever the provoker—merely stands there and waits a few seconds before deciding to call out after him in that deceptively lazy tone of his, “You always did have a thing for people that aren’t yours, huh?”
Jin pauses, unable to help himself, and turns back swiftly. His words fly out his mouth before he properly processes them, “She isn’t yours, Toji. She’s a babysitter that we both share.”
“Not in the way we’d prefer though, right?” Toji challenges.
All of Jin's composure is fractured with one simple question because what was Toji even talking about anymore? What other way would they—
“I-, excuse me?” Chokes out of Jin's throat the moment it clicks for him.
“Jin,” Toji groans this time, rolling his eyes, “For fuck's sake, drop the innocent old man act—“
“You’re older than me,” He cuts in.
“—And stop pretending like that woman doesn’t drive you crazy.” Toji finishes off.
Jin shuts up right then, letting Toji’s words fully settle into his mind. Drive him crazy? You?
Why the hell would you drive him crazy? You’re just a babysitter. The thought of looking at you in any other light feels uncomfortable.
But... not in a way that's unwelcomed. In fact, that statement seems to tug Jin out of all his delusions and force him to really think about you for a moment.
You were always responsible in his home, organized to a fault, caring for any and all family that crowded the Itadori house, and above all else—painfully distracting in a way he only acknowledged after staring for too long.
The conversation between Toji and Jin ends after that. Jin barely spares his friend—if he could even call Toji that—a goodbye before departing. The rest of his shopping is conducted with tense shoulders and a clouded head.
Jin promised himself from the moment he laid his eyes on you that he'd never look at you in that way, no matter how prettily you batted your lashes at him or how politely you addressed him. But now, because of Toji...
He can't get you out of his head and he's supposed to face you again in a few hours.
Fuck.
——
It's like every interaction prior to that revelation is suddenly put under a microscope in Jin's mind. He never thought about it that way until Toji said something—and it's just his luck that the brooding bastard chose today of all days to point it out.
Now Jin can't unsee it—can't unsee you in that aspect.
He tells himself that his thoughts of you were always innocent. Mostly, anyway. There were only a handful of times his gaze lingered longer than it should've—longer than what was appropriate. And those questions he'd asked you in the past? Those were harmless, he's sure. It can't be a crime to want to know you better, can it?
You were watching his son for hours on end, after all. It wasn't unreasonable to want to know who you were beyond your credentials and qualifications.
Which means it wasn't inappropriate to ask if anyone was taking care of you the way you take care of everyone else... right?
And when you'd said no, there was nothing scandalous about the way he offered himself. No harm in the quiet, "Would you like someone to?" that followed instinctively after.
...Right?
Fuck.
Who was he trying to convince here? It becomes rather apparent that he's been a lost cause for a while now.
There was the time you lost your phone and bent over the couch to find it. Jin hadn't meant to look—but you were right there, barely a few feet away. Where else was he meant to look?
The memory alone still makes heat trickle down to places it probably shouldn't be.
What he didn't realize was that Toji had been dealing with the same problem.
Hell, he had it worse.
A while back, when the shower in the guest bathroom broke, Toji had told you to use his instead. "Make yourself comfortable," He'd told you, unsuspecting of how this action would have great consequences to him later on.
The night he came home late from work and heard the water running is remembered vividly. The bathroom door was cracked just enough for steam to spill out into the empty hall. Megumi was asleep so the only ones to recall the event are you and the begrudgingly perverted man who'd foolishly allowed you to use his bathroom.
He didn't really see you considering the angle spared him that much reprieve but he did see the lace you left draped over the sink. Such a delicate pair of panties abandoned without a second thought.
You never noticed how they went missing after that day.
Toji told himself he kept them because he needed them, instead of simply wanting them. Because watching you with Megumi did the same thing to him as it did to Jin—the only difference being that Toji has the balls to act on it. When you spend months caring for his kid like he was yours, how else is he supposed to feel towards you?
Even the way you smile at the grumpy lil' boy is enough to have Toji thinking you might as well have the words 'breed me' written out across your forehead.
Was it wrong to look at you and think of you in ways that had nothing to do with babysitting? Absolutely. Did Toji care? Not at all.
So if it took a little needling earlier—just enough to make Jin look at you the way he already had been—then fine.
He'd take the blame for that.
——
Nightfall comes quicker than Jin expects, and he finds himself standing in front of you again far too soon.
Before he left his house and as you were talking to him—explaining what the next few hours of watching both Yuji and Megumi would cost—he was hardly able to catch the words leaving your mouth. His attention had been fixed on the gloss on your lips and the way it caught the light every time you spoke.
He was too busy wondering how sweet it would taste, how sweet you would taste.
Shortly after, Jin left in quite the hurry. Hell, his rush was made with such abruption that it may have come across as if you'd offended him. Obviously you hadn't—a mere smile and steady walk back into the house surely isn't enough to warrent any feelings of offense so, you ended up going about your job as usual.
The rest of the night then passes without incident.
Yuji falls asleep first, sprawled dramatically across the couch and Megumi keeps his weary eyes open a little longer. Similar to his father, his stubbornness happens to be what keeps him up longer than his pink-haired friend but by the time he finally knocks himself out—he's curled up in the corner of the same couch as Yuji.
You were left to carefully take each of them upstairs and tuck them in properly, returning back to the quiet kitchen afterwards.
You've just begun wiping down the counter when you hear the front door unlock with a sharp set of clicks that ring out through the otherwise silent kitchen.
You straighten up immediately.
Toji walks in first, rolling his shoulders back and scrunching up his face slightly as the tension in them eases off through his movements. Jin follows in a second later and shuts the door behind him, locking it as quietly as he can.
You angle yourself towards the counter's edge, reaching for a nearby cloth so it looks like you'd been busy for much longer than you actually had been.
The sound of their shuffling and quiet conversation fades as they approach the kitchen, Jin walking in first with a softened grin on his face.
After exchanging glances with the both of them, you offer a smile of your own and whisper, "They're asleep." as if the deafening silence of the house hadn't given that away already.
Toji makes his way over to the kitchen island and plops himself down onto one of the stools there, the poor furniture creaking slightly beneath his bulky weight. "Both of 'em?" He asks curiously.
You nod, "Mhm, Yuji was out first but it took Megumi about an hour and a half to follow suit."
Laughing quietly to himself, "Sounds about right." Toji responds.
Normally, this is the part where you'd finish up with your unrequired cleaning, gather your things, remind Jin of the total, accept your payment, and head out.
Yet, something lulls you into lingering and neither of the men seem too concerned with dismissing you just yet.
Jin moves around the counter and approaches your side, standing in front of the empty sink and letting his brows furrow, "I told you that you didn't have to clean up," He hums, turning his head your way.
You shrug sheepishly, idly wiping the counter space in front of you. "I know, I know. But, I wasn't doing anything else and it's no big deal."
“You do so much for us, doll.” Toji comments suddenly, earning your eyes on him instead.
You blink a couple times as the sudden petname throws you off. It wasn't like he hadn't called you that before but it did feel different to hear in front of Jin.
Toji's leaning forward against the counter now, his forearms resting against the cool marble, and eyes are uncaring as they take in every detail of your appearance.
Then the side of his mouth where that scar sits began to lift, "No boyfriend, huh?”
“No, no, not at all.” You rush out as if you had the answered practiced and prepared for him or something. Making up for the way you nearly came off as needy, “I don’t have much time for one.” You clarify.
The heat from Jin's gaze on you is felt before his voice soothes over, “Do you consider yourself that much to handle?” He asks.
“Hm?" Your brows scrunch up as you turn your head to him. Eye widened, "No! I’m usually just wrapped up in work and.. men these days are a handful so,” You trail off for a moment before noticing how they're both looking at you, “Ah, no offense.”
“None taken, sweetheart.” Jin's smile seems to be wider now, or perhaps more cunning.
You're not really sure.
Hell, the only thing you are sure of now in this moment is that they were both peering at you entirely different than they were earlier in the store. Or at least Jin for sure was. Where Toji's concerned, you can't say he doesn't look at you like this often.
Though, the combination of their attention definitely makes you fidget where you stand. So much so that the cloth you'd been using to wipe the counter slips right off of the edge and falls to the ground.
With a quiet curse falling from your lips, you quickly and nervously rush to reach for it only to find your hand meeting Jin's as he does the same. You don't know if it's more awkward or painfully cliche the way you two meet eyes whilst kneeled to the floor to grab some stupid rag.
His glasses frame his eyes perfectly and you can't help but notice it now that he's closer to you.
Those pretty brown eyes that are normally reflected with such a light 'n gentle color now appear to be different. While the color is inherently the same, the way his gaze steadies on your face for a dragging moment, drops down to your mouth for a second far too long, and then falls to your hand brushing against his is enough to tell you that something had changed.
You wondered if Toji had told him something—even though you're unsure what the man could've said to have Jin looking at you like he wanted to make you the mother of his future kids.
Breaking out of it, you shoot up to your feet and let Jin gather the rag instead. "I uhm," Your mind was a mess and it bothered you to no end, "I should probably get going."
Jin lifts himself up slowly and you realize just how close he is to you, his height alarmingly highlighted as you find yourself moving your gaze up just to meet his. Even so, he still manages to give you that warm smile of his, "Or you could stay, it's late." He offers.
You swallow all too loudly, the sound catching both of their ears.
Toji smirks the moment he realizes you're nervous.
"W-Well," The stutter that teeters out of you makes you want to shrink up and disappear. Unfortunately for your growing embarrassment, nothing else decides to leave your lips.
Shaking his head, "Toji's staying too, given how late it is. You could use one of the spare rooms. Choso's or Sukuna's, whatever you're more comfortable with." All his words leave him a bit too cleanly, almost as if he had prepared this suggestion to you not too long ago. "If you decide to stay, that is." Jin adds finally.
Instead of battling with your failing vocal capabilities, you settle for a nod and then take a few steps back, "Yeah, that works. I'll go move my things into one of those rooms then."
Both men noticed how quickly you try to escape the kitchen and they exchange a short glance.
They didn't even have to do or say anything else for you to pause as soon as you reach the doorway, glimpsing back at the two, "Oh but, before I forget, I'll still need payment for both Yuji and Megumi, Mr. Itadori."
Jin nods knowingly and starts to reach into his pocket for his wallet, bringing you right back into the kitchen.
“Or…” Toji drawls suddenly—causing Jin’s eyes to frantically snap onto him. No fucking way. Surely the glance they exchanged wasn't a hint toward-, “We could pay you another way.”
Shit.
This isn't how Jin wanted to go about things, not exactly. He thought there would be more of a gradual build up or something. Though, he's not quite complaining, all things considered.
Especially not with the way you seem to perk up as you look over at Toji all innocently and murmur, “Another way… how?”
——
You’ve always eyed up both Jin and Toji like you wanted them to pass you back ‘n forth but this-, this isn’t something you thought would ever happen.
When you agreed to let them pay another way—allowing your curiosity to get the better of you—they’d hauled you off into Sukuna’s old bedroom faster than you could process what was happening.
A great many hushed out questions of, “Is this okay?” and, “Can we touch you here?” came fluttering past their lips in between the wet way in which their lips met all inches of your skin.
You were a mess just from the kissing but then it quickly became something more.
Toji snatched at your top and damn near ripped your bra off just to get his greedily rough hands splayed out across your skin. His fingers eagerly pinched your nipples, tongue coming in to make up for the pain it induced, and vibrating groans bellowing out as if to soothe you over.
Then he’d come back up to your mouth, tugging your lips apart with his own and invading the space between them with sloppy wafts of his tongue. Fervently grunting against you as your lips slicked ‘n slid over one another.
Toji wasn’t just a messy kisser, he was a nasty one. He’d grab onto your jaw, snatch you in impossibly closer, grit out, “Open up f’me,” and then spit directly into your oral cavern just to seal it all in with another searing kiss.
All the while sweet Jin was much more interested in adorning the lower half of your body in softer, more delicate kisses. The plush of his lips met every other inch of you while Toji occupied your upper half.
Things were moving so fast that you hardly recall how you ended up in the first position between the two. One moment, they were both kissing you, and the next, you were lying across the bed with Jin’s flushed-out face tucked in between your legs while Toji’s cock hung leaking in front of your face.
Your head hung off the edge of the bed while Toji gathered his dick into his hand, giving himself a few slow strokes as he watched the way your hips rocked up uncontrollably against all that Jin’s delicate mouth had to offer you. Somehow, the man you thought to be oh-so-kind and gentle was everything but.
Jin ate pussy like he meant to get you pregnant with his tongue—as if feeling your honeyed slick smear across his taste buds was the single thread keeping him attached to what was happening. You’d never felt a greedier tongue before. Not even Toji’s being in your mouth moments prior could compare to the sinful skill that poured out of Jin’s mouth.
And to top it all off, you had Toji's fat cock being tugged at right in front of your blissed-out expression. His head remained tipped to the side whilst he kept his greedy eyes cast down on the bare frame of you.
He was just standing there the entire time all smug as he got off on the feel of your airy moans tickling the feverish skin of his erection, your breathy pants brushing down 'n in between his balls in a way that made him shudder. As his hand would stroke down to his base, he'd try to grip at himself a little tighter just to stop himself from cumming too soon.
Truth be told, he'd always looked at you under a perverted light—unlike the kinder man who's tongue was currently bullying your dewy folds apart—and finally having you like this made it rather difficult for him not to lose himself early on.
Hell, the first time he and Jin pawed at your shirt he thinks he groaned like some slut at the sight of your tits being hugged so perfectly within your bra. Which is exactly why he stripped the damn thing off your body and tossed it to a corner he'd definitely be going back for later. Y'know, by the time you're too fucked out to notice him slipping the lace into his bag.
As for now, the longer he stands here jerking off instead of shoving his cock into your mouth, the longer he's gonna drive himself insane.
Luckily for Toji, he's not the only one too needy in the room at presence. You prove this to him by bringing your hand up to wrap around the veiny shaft of his dick, letting your jaw fall open as you lightly pull him closer.
Toji's thin brows immediately tense up, twisting with surprise as his glistening cockhead slips against your lips and quickly in between them. Your mouth has to sprawl out wiiide just to take him in and by the time half of his length has been welcomed into your drooling mouth, he's already bulging against your throat.
A viciously haughty smile creeps out across Toji's face and he grunts, “Uhuh, don't be shy. Swallow that cock, ma. Yeahhhhhh, all nasty jus’ like that.”
The filth his heavy tone carries down to your ears is enough to have a moan vibrating off your tongue, one of which he huffs at. Your other hand—that'd just been buried in Jin's soft locks of hair—shoots out to meet the bulk of Toji's thigh.
The darker haired man quickly tuts at you, “Don’t try pushin’ me away, take it. I know you can.”
You don't know why but you're still asking yourself how the fuck you got here. You were just watching a movie with their kids not even two hours ago!
And now look at you; splayed out against Sukuna's old bed with a trifecta of oral action taking place.
Jin's grip on your thighs abruptly gets tighter than you expect it to and you're left to choke around Toji's cock as the feel of one languidly weeping tongue flutters deeper into your pussy just to tug something especially syrupy out of you.
A wet shlick! rings out with the way Jin's navigating his tongue in between your folds. The motions his oral muscle held were nothing short of hypnotic as it had your eyes rolling back and your spine arching up off the bed.
Not to mention the pairing of that with how Toji was feeding his dick into your mouth, his veins all rigidity against your throaty walls and easily making you gag weakly every time you attempted to moan or gasp.
You're sure you'd feel more pathetic in the situation you were in if it weren't for the state of sluttish pleasure you'd reached already.
“You’re so wet,” Jin's voice is heard rasping, his warm breath making a trembly descent against the spread of your legs. The glasses you'd admired so much sat low on his nose and you could feel it brushing against your skin each time he stuffed his face too far forward, “Makes me wonder how long you’ve thought about this—about us.”
“M-Mngh,” You choke around Toji again.
To which the smug bastard compliments with a painfully slow thrust. “Fuuuuck, look at that." He rumbled, "M’deep in this throat, aren’t I? Bet you’ve never had any other guy this deep, huh?”
A response doesn't even get the chance to formulate in your pretty head with the way Jin's fingers sneak in between your drooling pussy lips, sinking into your hole and beginning to scissor your insides. To make your brain fizz out all the more, in comes his gentle lips to kiss at your clit as if to worship the delicate bundle of nerves.
Following such with a whisper that smears right against you, “I bet she’s never been touched all properly like this. Poor thing probably couldn’t even take care of herself.” Jin gasps.
“Mhm, especially since she works soo hard for us.” Toji drags out right after, pulling his hips back slowly and then purposefully thrusting forward at the wrong angle just to make his cock slop against your face.
You let out a satiated little hum and he smiles at the way his balls tap at your whorish expression. Then—with no interest in giving you a moment long enough to respond to either of them—he quickly redirects his swollen head back in between your wobbly lips.
A wet bubble of spit gurgles out around his deft base as he fucks every inch of himself back in and the filthy sight leaves him to moan in relief.
Jin catches enough to whir out something soft to himself, “I see her mouth is full so maybe this pretty girl can answer our questions, hm?” He murmurs as his gaze and fully attention returns down to your cunt. “Does it feel good to get the right attention, baby?” You feel the perfectly rotating pad of his thumb lightly brand his touch into your clit, “Yeahhh?" He coos once he earns an excessive gush from your hole, "Aww, what a noisy pussy. So responsive.”
You can't help but drools sloppily all over his fingers in layers of glossing slick, your hips instinctively pulling up a little and forcing Toji's cock in all too deep.
To which your eyes cross and you try to pull your mouth away. A hand comes down to your throat and pressure is applied directly to the center, “Aht, aht, hold it.” Toji scolds as he rocks his hips forward again and feels the imprint his dick is leaving against your throat, “C’mon, make room f’me in there—lemme stretch this pretty throat out.”
You couldn't even control the way your pussy clamps around Jin's fingers tight enough to leave him gasping. “You too, sweetie. Make some room for Jin,” He hushes out, using the tip of his tongue to swirl around your clit and coax your cunt into squeezing his digits a little less, “Oh, thereee you go, relax around me just like that. Good girlll.”
The moment you do, his fingers are sloshing in and out of you at a suddenly merciless pace, prodding your g-spot with prominent taps that have your entire frame twitching.
You barely even realize your orgasm is washing over you until Toji's pulling out of your throat in a timely manner and letting you moan out for the first time. Then your hands fly back down to Jin and you're weakly pushing at him with a hoarse voice, "S'too much."
Determined brown eyes meet yours directly as his fingers merely pick up the pace and begin to stretch out your walls properly as if to prepare you for way more than you were expecting.
Toji's cock comes slathering across your cheek to grab your attention again and as soon as you look up, he spills out a sloppy load of cum all over your face. Something about the filth of it all—how dirty it made you feel—is enough to have you moaning out again as you come entirely undone on Jin's fingers.
None of you get a chance to process anything since there's a soft knock at the door shortly after.
All three of your heads turn—yours a little more jaded than the other two men.
"Shit," Toji huffs, running a hand through his sweat slicked hair.
Jin quickly shuffles up and nearly falls over as he tries to move away from the bed. Muttering like the responsible man he is, "I'll get it, hold on."
You watch him slowly walk to the door and tug at his pants to hopefully hide the boner he'd popped somewhere in between eating you out.
Before completely embarrassing himself, Jin manages to get his footing in order and tries to compose his face into something of normalcy as he reaches the door. Behind him, the bed creaks carefully as Toji shifts onto it to hopefully being out of anyone's line of sight.
“Ah, Megumi, you’re up a little late, no?” Jin clucks tenderly at the door, pressing himself out for a moment and waving back at the two of you.
The door is shut carefully behind him and you and Toji are motionless as you both strain your ears to hear to muffled sounds of the man talking to the kid.
Slowly, you and Toji look at one another before he snorts. Shaking his head, “Kid’s got the worst timin’.”
You swallow carefully and look around, “Should I—“
“Nah, c’mere.” Toji cuts off quickly, not letting you believe for even a moment that this little intervention would stop him from having you exactly the way he's wanted to for quite some time.
You're left to merely gulp before you find yourself in yet another unexpected position.
——
Jin returns to the two of you after putting Megumi back to bed and walks in to see you on Toji's lap.
Your back is to his broad chest and Toji's got one hand in between your legs as the other plays with your tits—the display set up as if to put on a show for the shyer man.
“Awh, what a pretty sight this is.” Jin says thankfully, walking up to the bed with his eyes shamefully fixated on your shiny cunt, “Cute pussy can’t even handle a couple fingers.”
“And she’s supposed to take cock? Pfft, how pathetic.” Toji says as he plucks those same thick digits right out of you and smack! smack! smacks! at your swollen folds. “Don’t even think a tip can fit in here—especially not mine.” He scoffs.
A pout pops out across your lips, “So make it fit, asshole—“
“Now, now," Jin cuts off to scold, "That’s no way to talk to the same man who’s making you feel good, is it?”
Your frown only deepens as you try your best to flash the man a pleading look in hopes of getting him to understand, “But-“
“No buts, if you want this to continue, you’ll be nice ‘n good for the both of us. Yeah?” Jin interrupts as he casually takes his shirt off.
You stupidly nod your head and Toji moves to grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he tugs. “Use your words, brat. Are y’gonna be good for us or not?”
Accompanying his rough way of handling you is Jin coming in close to push at your legs and get a closer look of the rude way in which Toji’s fingertips are pounding into your squelchy pussy.
“Hnngh! Y-Yes, Toji." You whine as your defiant composure melts away embarrassingly fast, "M’gonna be good.”
“That's our sweet girl.” Jin praises before leaning forward and kissing your inner thigh.
You could feel Toji’s dick throbbing against your ass due to how wet you were around his fingers.
Somewhere deep down, you wished you hated how attentive they both were to your pleasure—how they both exceeded whatever sinful expectations you had for them by a long shot.
And to think, that was mostly the start of it.
Toji had only fingerfucked you to another slippery orgasm to make sure you were ready to handle what was to come. You'd no idea that the two men planned to stuff you in one go, in the most literal way possible.
Double penetration. You'd thought about it only a few times in the past whenever you thought of both Jin and Toji at the same time but those little fantasies of yours shine little in face of the real thing.
If the first stretch of Jin's stupidly lengthy cock alone wasn't enough to have strangled moans of pure bliss flying out of your throat then his nasty words of encouragement sure as hell did.
“Yeahh?" His voice husked out against your ear just as his drippy tip kissed the very hilt of your cunt, "Does that feel good? Is Jin makin’ this sweet pussy feel good? Hm?”
All you could do was dumbly nod at him before Toji's thicker length was smudging up against where Jin held you open, his gaze focused down on the debauched sight, “Aw, look at her. Weepin’ all over that cock—what a messy slut.”
“Jin,” You gasp as you reached forward to claw at Toji’s shirt. “T-Toji..” Just as his name spilled past your lips, he was nudging himself in—pressing Jin's cock impossibly deeper and leaving your hole to be promptly stretched out on the both of them.
The whimper that exited you had Jin grunting at your neck, “Shhh, shhh. You can take it. Look at how well we both fit in here.” He assures right as Toji's dick knocked right up against where his tip had already smooched up.
The tight squeeze of it all was more than enough to let all three of you know this wasn't gonna last long at all.
Even so, Toji was trying to make every squelching second count, “Mhmm, it’s like you were made to take us both," He huffs in agreeance with Jin, leaning forward to plant kisses across your jaw, "Juuuust like this.”
The sleazy extension of his syllables causes your nails to scrape out against whatever was available, leading both of them to hiss in unison somehow.
“Ohhh, she’s gettin’ tighter, Toji.” Jin's full-on smiling now as if he couldn't feel his balls straining not to empty into you right then 'n there.
“Yeah, I feel it,” Toji tries to huff out confidently—like he’s not nearing the same edge as his pink haired friend at the moment. Focusing on you once more, his words slither across your hot skin, “Are you gonna cum on us again?”
Your nod tells them that you’re nothing short of fucked-out, especially as drool glides out from the corner of your lips while you gape, “Uhuhhh.”
“Poor girl,” Jin chuckles, the laughter making both cocks inside you twitch against one another, “She’s so fucked out she can barely think.”
One last, “Awh.” is all you get from Toji before your body adjusts everrrrr so slightly in between them and all three of you choke on a breath.
Your orgasm crashes in first and you’re pretty sure your vision is pure white as streaks of pleasure cloud your eyes. Meanwhile Jin finishes next and the feeling of your mixed cum makes Toji mutter something filthy just under his breath.
Not that any of you hear it though, considering how out of it you all are.
Then, right in the middle of you being double stuffed with creamy loads of cum and as both men try their best to fuck their release into sticking, the bedroom door swings open.
Standing directly in the middle of the bedroom is obviously you, Toji, and Jin but the sight is revealed to none other than the one and only Sukuna—who’s bedroom you’d been inside of all this time.
Y’know, in case any of you forgot (you all did).
At the sight, Sukuna’s left rightfully furious and it's of no surprise when he scoffs out a confused, "What. the. fuck."
Whoops.
Guess you should've picked Choso's room instead-
"What? Did Yuji leave some of his stuff in here again?" Comes out softly from yet another voice just behind Sukuna. Peaking his head in is none other than the one man in all this who's age isn't as controversially older, "Oh-," Choso gasps, batting his thick dark lashes, "Oh shit."
synopsis: sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. he’s calmer, less eager to fight. change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home that’ll tell you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row.
cw: MDNI, toxic relationships, smut, rom-com(ish), sukuna is constantly fucking around and finding out, he likes where he's at tho, even when reader hits him with a car, oral (m receiving), mating press
notes: 5.6k w/c. commission for the lovely @plsstopsworld i hope u likey <3
Sukuna was convinced that you found joy in terrorizing him.
Do not tell him that he could just simply leave, either— there’s no point. He’ll just go back to you in the end. He always does, that’s the unfortunate part of being in love with you. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s his karma for all the crazy, borderline illegal shit he’s done. He was allowed love, but it came at a cost— a girlfriend who had the ability to make his heart race with fear. Sometimes it gets him hard, sometimes it doesn’t. He doesn’t have much control over it.
He doesn’t have control over much, really.
But like he said, he loves you. You are very lovely to be around most of the time, so it makes up for all of your less lovely qualities. It’s not like he has to deal with them much anyway, at least not since you’ve forbidden him from speaking in the first hour you’re awake. If you think about it, he has some control there since there’s always the option to poke the bear, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he chooses peace.
Sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. He’s calmer, less eager to fight. The man who once thrived in chaos now looks forward to the small moments of stillness life has to offer, often he goes out seeking for it. He’s more patient, has more control over himself.
Many people ask him how he did it, and he just shrugs. “Gettin’ old I guess,” he’ll sometimes tell people.
Truth is, he’d rather die than admit that change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home who tells you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row. He doesn’t need them thinking that’s another thing he’s not allowed to do. He is. You’ll even say bless you the first time he does it, you just get annoyed after the third one. It’s like Regina George and Satan had a baby when you’re annoyed, so he’s learned not to annoy you.
Crazy definitely has a look to it, like the eyes or something, but not always. Sometimes you find out the hard way, like Sukuna did, who, at a very ignorant time in his life, didn’t want to do dishes. He thought reminding you of who pays the most in rent and utilities would get him out of it. Instead, he found out that you had a kill switch for the part of your brain that feels empathy.
He slept on the couch that night, which was pointless because you committed to turning on the fire alarm every time he managed to fall asleep. Then he went out and bought a dishwasher the next morning, since he was going to be the one doing dishes for the next three months. He also had to buy a new set of dishes since there weren’t any to actually load the dishwasher with. You broke them all, save for the one you hurled at his head. You have great aim, by the way. He almost didn’t catch it.
That wasn’t the end of his day, though. The flower shop was supposed to be his last stop, but then he remembered you said something about feeling sorry for his mother, and thank god for Jin because she would’ve gone through labor for nothing, and thank god for Jin again because every parent needs at least one kid to be proud of, so he went ahead and bought his mother some flowers, too.
Then he finally went home. Getting the cold shoulder was expected and well deserved. So you could only imagine how unsettling it was when you smiled and welcomed him back home as if nothing ever happened. To this day, he doubts he needed to bring home any flowers.
It’d be nice to say that was the one and only time he’s ever fucked around and found out with you, but he’s not perfect. He still isn’t. The slip ups are rare, but they still happen, and he still never knows how you’ll react— sometimes it’s instant, you’ll blow up right then and there, then get over it an hour later. Other times it’s delayed, and you’ll shell out weeks' worth of time and effort purely for your entertainment.
Like when he got off work on a random Tuesday and spent half an hour walking around the parking garage, all pissed off because he couldn’t find his car. He thought some asshole stole it, filed a police report, and everything. Only to find out that you hid it in some random parking garage in some town a couple of hours away, and spent two entire months acting shocked about it despite shelling out $300 each month for the parking permit.
There was also the time he showed up to work on a Monday and learned that he had sent his boss a particularly nasty resignation email over the weekend. He got his job back, but it took a good amount of convincing since his boss didn’t believe that you’d do something like that. Sometimes he thinks about what would’ve happened if he couldn’t get his job back— you probably would’ve pushed him out of the house the very next day to look for a new one, since you refused to take on any more bills after that first fight.
He was convinced that was it. That your spite had reached its fullest potential when you fucked with his job, a.k.a both of your livelihoods, and it’ll surely make everything else after look like child’s play. He couldn't come up with anything worse than that, and it was a direct result of his limited creativity. There’s always room for improvement. You can alwaysbe worse.
You proved that when you hit him with his car.
All he was trying to do was stop you from leaving after an argument, and chose not to believe that you’d hit him if he didn’t move. Why would he? It’s not like he cheated on you. He never lied to you. He thought you were only saying that because you wanted to make him feel bad for yelling at you— that wasn’t a good enough reason to hit someone with a car. Especially when he didn’t even curse!
He had a little more faith in you than that.
Let’s say you did try, it'd probably just be a small tap. Your love may be questionable at times, but it was there, and you don’t want to send the person you love flying across the street. You care about him. The most you’d do is take your foot off the brake so your car could give him a little warning bump.
Then the smell of burning rubber hits his nose.
You stepped on the gas so god damn hard that the tires needed a second to gain traction.
Sukuna is 6 '4, a whopping 250 lbs of pure muscle. The sound of his tires screeching into the air before taking off made his life flash before his eyes. Despite being worried for a moment there, he was physically fine.
Spiritually, however? Not very good. You made it a personal goal to knock the fucking Mario coins out of him and then watched him get up on his own right after, absolutely distraught and barking about how he couldn’t believe you just did that to him.
He’s so pissed he doesn’t even realize you turned back around instead of leaving like you said you would.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHO DOES SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”
It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s like this— so far past the point of shock that he’s outraged, yelling as if he wanted God to truly grasp how bad of a day he’s having.
You’re still in the car, hand on the steering wheel, casually scanning over his burly frame for any bruising. “I told you to move three separate times.”
“SO YOU TRIED TO MURDER ME? I COULD’VE FUCKING DIED.”
“I wasn’t trying to murder you, Sukuna.” The accusation sounds ridiculous when you repeat it. Sure, you would’ve understood and agreed if it had come from someone else, but not Sukuna. He’s practically bulletproof with how quick he can bounce back. You wouldn’t have hit him if he wasn’t. “You’re fine, aren't you?”
“THAT DOESN’T CHANGE THE FACT THAT YOU JUST HIT ME WITH MY OWN CAR, YOU FUCKING SLUT.”
“This wouldn’t be an issue if you had just moved.” It’s simple, but the way you laughed while saying it just made you sound cruel. You weren’t trying to make fun of him— you just don’t know what he expected after you told him exactlywhat would happen if he didn’t step aside.
Sukuna should’ve taken his time getting back on his feet because you did not deserve reassurance in knowing what you did was technically okay. In fact, he shouldn’t have gotten up at all— you wouldn’t be laughing then if you had to watch him getting hauled off in an ambulance.
But no, he got nothing. No broken bones or fractures. No concussions, not even dizziness. Not even a scratch. He was alive and well, and that in itself only enabled your behavior. It pissed him off knowing there was nothing for you to see and feel guilt from as a result.
Instead, he received the complete opposite from you: Lust.
You took one good look at him later that night in the living room and went from thinking “who cares, he’s fine,” to something fucking crazy and along the lines of, “holy shit, getting hit by a car is nothing for him.” You didn’t even apologize— you just went straight to talking to him like he was some random chick at the bar.
Sukuna naturally thought that getting hit by a car would be a one-time thing. But your sudden shift in perspective made him realize that there’s nothing stopping you from doing it again if you wanted— he was done for, yet it wouldn’t be much of a surprise coming from you.
“What about your ribs?”
“Dunno. M’sure they’re fine.”
Your hands were already bunching up the bottom of his t-shirt, and like an idiot, he was allowing it, raising his arms so you could strip him down and pretend to “look” for bruises. You could’ve tried a little harder. Instead, you’re shamelessly running your fingers down the lines of his abs with some unhinged and sexually explicit thought running through your head.
“Evil whore.”
“What?”
Well fuck. He didn’t mean to say that outloud. No use in backtracking now, though.
“You heard me,” he grumbles, looking away. “Hope you’re happy with yourself.”
“Oh no— never.” It’s not very convincing when you’re running your hand down his skin. “You sure you’re not in any pain?”
“Nope,” he boredly says.
“Good.” You try not to smile at how butthurt he sounds. “....Was there something you wanted to say?”
“Nope.” He repeats himself.
“You sure? You seem kinda pent up.”
“Positive.”
“Mad maybe?” You hummed as your fingers reached his waistband, tracing along the elastic.
He laughed in disbelief. “Now what could I possibly be mad about?”
The sarcasm easily slipped out. He was still pissed, rightfully so, throwing a miniature fit in the way he does best. By being condescending.
His laugh was met with a lighthearted shrug. “Well… at first I thought it was because I hit you. But I did tell you exactly what I’d do if you didn’t move, so I guess there is no reason to be mad.”
“Sure.” He continued to smile despite his tone flattening. “Even though you don’t actually need a reason to not hit someone.”
As if he wasn’t already annoyed, you decided to send him over the edge with a contemplative hum, as if it’d ever be up for debate. “I guess. A snake doesn’t need a reason to bite you either, but you still wouldn’t count on not getting bit because of some principle.”
He takes a deep breath in an attempt to push down his frustration. You are really testing him right now with that smart ass mouth of yours. “Yeah, but are you a wild animal?”
“Nope,” you smile, snapping the waistband of his boxer against his skin. “Wild animals don’t give you verbal warnings.”
“How kind of you,” he mutters, tone laced with sarcasm. “I’ll make sure to remember that next time you threaten to hit me.”
“Smart. It probably won’t happen again, though.”
He deadpans and stares off into space for a moment over how bleak and underpromising you made the statement sound. “...You say probably as if you don’t have control over the vehicle?”
“I mean, I do… but—”
“There is no ‘but’, that’s a fact,” he stutters out of frustration as he begins to argue. “You put it in drive and smashed your foot on the gas pedal.”
“So you are mad?” Your lips purse together, innocently drawing circles over his stomach.
His brows pinch together, once again looking at you with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief. No shit he’s fucking mad, can still smell the rubber burning off his tires. You laughed at him once, and it is still haunting him. “Wouldn’t you be mad?”
“I don’t stand in front of the cars, so I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, pretending to be blind to his bubbling frustration.
He steps back and runs his hand down his face, fighting off the urge to gouge his eyes out. He knows exactly what you’re doing right now, and the answer’s no. You’re raigebaiting your way into getting dick. You don’t deserve it— plain and simple. There was no way in hell he was going to reward today’s behavior.
“That’s not the point. You don’t hit people with cars just because you can.” You’re lucky he’s even letting you touch him right now— you should be in jail. He leans in and taps his temple, eyes zeroing in on you. “How is that not getting through your head— it’s fucking wrong.”
“I know it’s wrong, I never said it wasn’t.” You tap at your temple the same exact way he did, and spell the next words out nice and slow. “That’s why you should move so it doesn’t happen.”
“I’m your BOYFRIEND,” he finally snaps, forgetting that’s what got him in this predicament to begin with. “I TAKE CARE OF YOU AND YOU SENT ME FLYING ACROSS THE STREET GOD DAMN IT.”
He wasn’t sent flying across the street, the reason for that being directly tied to how heavy he is. Not that you tell him that, the idea of you being the reason behind that is already tearing him apart enough. He’s also most likely embarrassed at those 2 seconds his feet were off the ground. Those must’ve been the longest 2 seconds of his life, given how he doesn’t get his world rocked too often.
“Alright, fine. I’m sorry–”
“FOR?”
Definitely embarrassed. You find yourself having to keep yourself from looking annoyed at the thought of him dragging out as big of an apology as he can from you for the sake of his bruised ego.
You close your eyes and sigh in preparation. “For thinking it was okay to hit you with a car when it shouldn’t even be a consideration in the first place.” His arms are crossed as he soaks up each and every word. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a mental list of points that needed to be brought up to make the apology valid. “It should’ve been off limits. You deserve to have peace in knowing our arguments won’t end with you getting struck down like a bowling pin.”
His face drops as he watches you needing to look away to keep yourself from laughing. “Seriously?”
“Sorry,” you clear your throat.
“Tch– I don’t believe you anymore,” he grumbles.
“No! I’m being serious,” you swear, grabbing his arm with both hands as you try to get him to look at you. “I really am sorry.”
He takes one look at you and feels nothing but reluctance. “And you’re never gonna pull that shit again, right?”
“Mhm.” You nod your head, knowing you don’t actually know the answer to that. It doesn't do much in terms of setting him straight— all it did was make him more dramatic, but it was satisfying. You can’t see it happening again in the foreseeable future, but you can see yourself randomly remembering how durable he is after you two have forgotten this incident, and doing it again. You place your hands on his chest as you part your lips to make a promise you don’t mind breaking. “That is not something you have to worry about from here on out.”
“Alright.”
There’s a certain satisfaction missing from his tone when he mutters the word, and you realize it’s not just your imagination when he pulls his arm away from your hold to cross both of them against his chest. You’re not sure what more he could want, but the contemplative look on his face tells you he’s thinking about it right now.
He got the apology he wanted and your word that you’ll never do it again, yet he can’t help but feel like it came too easily, and that you should’ve worked a little harder. He’s pushing his luck again, he knows, buuut maybe today’s one of the days where he can get away with that. Sukuna just doesn’t exactly know what he wants.
Did he want to grill you some more, get some revenge over the new (and traumatic) memory you gave him? Or did he want to rid himself of some of his pent up tension that you pointed out? Fuck, then that’d mean his punishment for you would end before you even knew about it. He wanted to see your face after being told no.
Decisions, decisions.
Well he could also have you—
“Kay’,” you break him out of his thoughts, the satisfaction missing in his tone is crystal clear in yours. “I’m gonna go wash my face now.”
Whoa, hold on a minute?! It’s only been a few seconds, you see him thinking.
“No. Stay,” he murmurs.
There was a part of him that was hesitant about that working— there was a chance you’d slap the shit out of him for ordering you around like a dog. Seeing you murmur a little ‘ok’ and actually staying was a pleasant surprise, and confirmation that he could push it a little today. The only thing missing was some sort of regret or guilt on your face. It’s more like you’re just listening to him because you figured he deserved it for once with how bored you look.
Whatever. He’ll take what he can get.
He sighs. “The apology was nice and all, but I think you’re gonna have to prove how sorry you are with this one.”
You look at him like he’s a clown and huff out a laugh. “You want me to prove how sorry I am?”
“Mhm. You don’t have to, though,” he shrugs, voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Just figured you’d like the option since it’s either that, or wait until I actually forgive you to get fucked.”
He nearly laughs at the way that instantly wipes the smile off your face. It’s not often he tells you no— it shows in the way you struggle to come up with an answer. Not because you're speechless, you’re just trying to figure out what can be said to change his mind.
“So it’s either I beg for forgiveness or get punished because you can’t accept my apology?” You force out a small laugh, the regret that Sukuna’s been looking for finally peeking through in your voice. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You and me both, princess,” he says in amusement. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to beg when you’re trying to prove something. I wouldn’t call it a punishment either. It’s more like a boundary— had to set one with you since I don’t really like you right now.”
You scoff as you watch him start to walk away. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Your failed attempt at guilting Sukuna pulls an airy, satisfied laugh out of him as he walks back to the bedroom. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. You know what to do if you decide to go with the first option.”
—
At first, you’re disgusted and refuse to prove how sorry you are. If he didn’t want to accept your original apology, then that was his problem. He can have fun fucking his fist for all you care. You looked at the bright side of things— you got to have a quiet evening since he decided to stay in the room the entire time, save for when he came out to eat dinner.
He had the audacity to ask if he could have some of the food you cooked, but that’s how he found out you had decided to retaliate by giving him the silent treatment. It didn’t come as a surprise, nor did it make him question his decisions. If anything, he was quite pleased with how bothered you were. That just meant you’d reach a point where you’d fold and come to him.
He just had to wait, guessing it’d take around 5-6 days until you grow tired of throwing a silent tantrum and start to miss him.
It took 2.
Now you see why he doesn’t bother leaving? Dealing with you can be a nightmare sometimes, but that was only 10% of it. The rest of it was smothering him with affection, which you clearly love to do and miss if you’re sitting at the edge of the bed 2 days later.
His back’s against the headboard, arms folded over his chest, looking a little too pleased to see you break your silence.
“Missed me?”
“Please don’t tease me right now,” you murmur, clearly struggling with the defeat.
“I’m not,” he hums, though the laugh he had to suppress said otherwise. “Anyways, what's up?”
You question your decision each time he opens his mouth. He’s making this so much harder than it should be right now and enjoying it way too much while he’s at it.
You pick at your cuticles at the other end of the bed— the lack of eye contact you’ve made with him leads him to believe you’re more nervous than you let on. He’s wrong. It’s a little hard trying to mask your annoyance at the moment, and cowering in place does a decent job of hiding it.
“I thought about what you said.”
“Yeah?” The smug grin across his cheeks grows.
“Yeah. I’m tired of fighting,” you look up and say, crossing a leg over the other. “I miss how we normally are.”
“Me too,” he hums, already undressing you with his eyes because he’s a fucking pervert. “Glad it didn’t take too long either, missed hearing your voice.”
You nod, holding back a smile. “Not really sure what you’re looking for, though.”
“Nothing crazy,” he hums, the shrug he followed it with wasn’t too convincing. “All you gotta do is be nice to me— extra nice.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all,” he confirms, sinking back some more against the headboard. “You know how to be a good girl, I’ve seen it. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
“No,” you softly say.
“Let me see it then— come here,” he hums, curling his finger in to beckon you closer. You start to stand, but he stops you. “Crawl.”
And crawling, at least right now, doesn’t feel very degrading. It’s the way he looks at you when you do, you’ve never wanted to smack him more. Once you’re kneeling beside him, he reaches over and slowly runs the back of his finger across your jaw.
“So you miss how we normally are, huh?” The broad question gets a nod from you, already knowing where he was going with this. “You’re normally pretty touchy— you miss that, too? Getting to touch me whenever you want?”
“Mhm.”
His finger traces down the side of your neck and across your shoulder, making your breath catch.
“Bet you miss having your mouth on me too, huh?”
You give a soft smile when his hand traces back up, cupping your cheek. “Yeah.”
“Think I might just miss that more,” he slips his thumb into your mouth, lightly pressing down on your tongue. “You know how much I love stuffing my cock in here.”
You still out of surprise. That’s what he wanted? Head? What an idiot, he could’ve just said that instead of making it seem like getting his forgiveness was some sinister task.
“Is that what you want?” you ask when his thumb pulls back.
“Mhm,” he smiles. “Look at you. I didn’t even have to ask.”
He continued to be stubborn, making you be the one to pull his sweatpants down by his waistband. You didn’t mind all that much. He may be a little shit, but it’s easy to wave it off when you're freeing his cock from his boxers. Just looking at it, how long and thick it is, sends heat in between your legs. Littered with thick veins, big red tip already smeared with precum, throbbing, begging for attention.
“Spit on it, get it all wet,” he murmurs, lids lowering at the sight of the thick string of saliva falling from your lips and landing on the thick head of his cock. “Yeahh— you know what I like.”
The sight’s filthy from the start when it’s just him telling you to spit on it some more, and more, and more. The entire time, there’s a slight pinch in his brow as he spreads it all from base to tip in a way that was slow and controlled, and hard to ignore. By the time the wet sounds of him stroking his cock could be heard, you were desperately squeezing your thighs together.
Watching his hand slow to a stop was a shame at first, but what followed took over your mind completely.
“Stick that tongue out for me— yeah that’s it, let me see it,” he murmurs, cock throbbing in his grip as he starts to tap the heavy tip of it against your tongue, hearing the weight of it behind each one. “Ready to put this pretty little mouth to work?”
“Yeah,” you murmur all sweetly, already in a daze.
“Good,” he chuckles. “Swirl your tongue around it.”
He watches you lean forward and do just that. Biting the bottom of his lip as you slowly drag your tongue all around his swollen head, salty remnants of precum hitting your taste buds with each flick and drag. Sukuna groans, abs tensing at your fingers digging into his thighs.
“Fuuck yeah.” He moves some of your hair out of the way to get a better look. “Suck on it for me, the tip— shit, just like that.”
As much as he loved the idea of making you beg, you really won’t ever have to. Watching you hollow your cheeks and pull away with a wet pop was enough. He rubs on the back of your neck as you do it again. “Feels fuckin good when you do that— so sweet with it, too.”
A soft hum passes through your lips, pulling back with another pop. He had plans to drag this out, but grows impatient at the sight of your glossy lips and the string of saliva connecting them to his head. His hand slightly tightens on the back of your neck and pushes you in closer, rubbing his tip over your lips.
“Open up,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he watches your lips part. “Go deeper. Show me how sorry you are.”
You feel both his hands go to the back of your head as you wrap your lips around his tip, gently bobbing your head as you inch further and further down his length, beginning to breathe through your nose the deeper you go.
His grip tightens as he starts hitting the back of your throat, throwing his head back with a gravelly, drawn out groan. For a minute, it felt like there was something missing, only for his ears to perk up just moments later when your nose hits his base with a small gag.
“There you go,” he huffs out a condescending laugh. At first he thinks to tell you to keep gagging on it, but then he has a better idea. “Open wide, princess. Gonna stretch this throat out.”
You pull up for air, revealing your teary eyes and wet lashes as you take a moment to breathe, and Sukuna thinks to himself how he’s never seen anyone so beautiful. Kinda like a Ursula in her human form type of beauty, given how much of a monster you are. Just cruel and evil.
He grins and pushes your head back down.
“Mmm, that’s it— relax it for me,” he says with a low rasp. “Gonna fuck this tight little throat of yours.”
Holding your head in place, he starts snapping his hips up, stuffing his fat cock down your throat with each thrust. Obscene slurping sounds mixed in with some of your moans fill the air as drool poured out of your mouth, making a mess around the base of his cock, earning his nasty praise. “Look at the mess you're making, you love this, huh? Such a good girl with my cock stuffed in your mouth. Keep it up and I might just stuff your pussy next.”
You make a sound, and it’s almost hopeful, as if you were asking, “Really?”
“Doesn’t that sound nice?” He thrusts up harder, enjoying the fact that you physically can’t talk right now. “Shit— m’gonna cum,” he murmurs through ragged breaths. “Look at you, did so good and now you get to have your throat filled.”
A low groan vibrates through his chest, swallowing thickly as he picks up the pace. Your nails dig into his thighs, hardly able to keep up and nearly drawing blood once you feel warm, thick spurts of cum begin to coat the back of your throat.
You’d think he’d be more spent with how hard he fucked your throat, but nope. The cocky, blissful sigh that slipped through his lips as you tried to get yourself together was all you needed to know.
He’s not the best when it comes to staying mad, at least with you. It’s pretty clear by now that this entire thing was just a ploy to make him feel more wanted, because he’s annoying. And pathetic.
Not that you get much time to simmer on the thought. It’s like you blink and suddenly you’re on your back, folded in half underneath him. Knees pinned to your chest, ankles up to your ears. Mentally, he’s gone. Too focused on rubbing the fat head of his cock against your hole, spreading your slick up and down your folds. Slow and intentional, enjoying the way you squirm in his hold.
That’s about the last of his patience, because seconds later, he’s bottoming out and you’re gasping from the sudden fullness.
“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans through a clenched jaw. His hips draw back, only pulling out halfway through before shoving himself back in with a resounding squelch. “Soaked, too. Is this what you wanted?”
“Y-yeah,” is all you could get out with all the weight he’s putting on you, keeping you locked down in the world’s meanest mating press.
“Two days is all this slutty pussy could take, huh?” He barely suppresses a laugh as he snaps his hips forward again, pulling another gasped moan out of you. “Better not start crying about how it’s too much then.”
It’s always too much, but this time he fucks you in a way where you can’t even get the words out. He just has you in straight up tears while he spends the next hour drilling into your sweet spot as if it were your punishment for making his life a living hell every few months.
While you spent your two days annoyed with him, he spent his saving enough energy to be able to pull back to back orgasms out of you like it was nothing. Going as far as taunting you when he felt you starting to tighten around his cock again, and then laughing after making you squirt once more after god knows how many times, talking about how, “that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Fuck him.
You clearly didn’t hate him that much, though. Yeah, you did go radio silent a couple of times, and there may have been a moment where you truly thought you were going to pass out, but that didn’t stop you from begging him to cum inside of you in the end.
He may have also teased you at first, asking if you deserved it, forgetting his place for a moment there.
But you always get what you want.
Even in the end, when you’re cuddling, and he’s murmuring sweet words into your ear, not knowing what the hell he’s even talking about when he says how much of a sweet girl you are and how you were his sweet girl.
Sukuna gets nothing but a curt “shh” in response.
“What?” he snorts, still in a lovesick mood.
There's a smile when you sigh. “The sound of your voice is ruining it right now for me, baby. I need you to be quiet or get lost.”
❀ Husband!Nanami being a diligent future father who takes caring for his pregnant wife very seriously. Perhaps too seriously. More seriously than even you.
Husband!Nanami helps you bathe when your belly grows too big to be stable in a slippery situation on your own. He doesn’t moan or groan, doesn’t drag his feet, or dread the task. On the contrary, he savours the moment. Knowing you’re carrying his child in your body has him feeling helpless, so any opportunity to contribute, to ease your aches and troubles is readily — greedily, one could say — taken by him.
“Honey, did you know babies are born with approximately three hundred bones? They eventually fuse together as they grow, of course, so nothing to worry about. Although, I do wonder if they feel any pain through the process...I surely hope not.” Calloused hands work your scalp, lathering up your hair thoroughly. Attentively. Then he frowns. “I’m not too rough on your head, am I, sweetheart?”
“No, Ken, you’re perfect,” you reply, moaning as he massages your head.
You feel his smile when he kisses your wet shoulder. “That’s my line.”
Husband!Nanami appreciates your independence, but he also appreciates that you’re often just too stubborn to accept that you need help. So he deals with you with perhaps too much patience.
Groaning, you throw the shoe somewhere. “Stupid, freaking belly. I can’t reach my feet, Kento! I can’t tie my shoelaces, can’t tell if they’re the same pair, or if they’re on the right foot. Ugh, I hate this, Ken! I’m like a beluga whale just waddling around all useless and ugly.”
With a sigh, he picks your shoe up and kneels before you. “Let’s not throw out baseless lies, shall we? We don’t want our child hearing this and thinking lying is a fine thing to do.”
“It’s not a lie–”
“I’m still talking.”
Oh and when he uses his stern, Mr. Nanami voice, you just have to shut up, because he sounds so good.
He continues, “First, you are not ugly. You could never be ugly. I will not entertain that line of thinking. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Second, useless? Growing a child, keeping me sane with your every breath, every smile, every touch, is not useless. What you do is hard, and God only knows if I could take this task from you, I would. But, darling, you’re doing such a fantastic job, all I’m left with is to step up.”
Husband!Nanami slides your foot back into your shoe, tying your laces with two bunny ears the way you like, the way you imagine he’ll do for your baby when they’re big enough. “Thirdly, beluga whales are highly intelligent; studies show they have brains over 2.5 times larger than expected of their body mass, so if our child inherits even a fraction of your beauty, grace, and intelligence, then I would be most grateful.”
He gives you a sincere smile as he helps you stand, kissing the top of your head, unable to resist touching you all the time.
“As for making sure your shoes are the right pair, that’s my job. So is taking you to get ice cream for your barbecue lettuce wrap in the middle of the night. Now, let’s go, shall we?”
