the bet, ie: you losing to iida and facing the fireworks.
“stop.. i-fuck.. i can’t” your words came out breathy and with no real conviction. you glared but it faltered as iida bit down your thighs, his fingers inside you with a thumb on your clit. “so much anger for a girl whose slipping up. don’t give up now, your promised remember?” you could practically feel his smirk as he kissed your lower stomach, those red eyes gazing up at you.
flashback: last week you and iida made a bet. but you weren’t very serious about it. the two of you were classmates but butted heads often on grades, rank, strength, and skill.
“that is completely unacceptable, you cheated!” iida said sternly, wiping the blood from his nose as you grinned. after a rough training session you decided to trip him up letting one of his blows rip your top off juuusst enough to not reveal all your tits. he stumbled and your attack began, he got pushed out of the ring and you won. “hah! i winn” you covered your body and noticed he could still barely focus. “oo look at the virgin tripping up” you teased, he fumed “this is extremely inappropriate! i would’ve won fair and square!” you smile, “ah. but you didn’t anddd it’s kinda your fault that my shirt ripped, so whose the perv here?” his ears burned red, you covered your mouth to stifle a laugh “that is-that’s not! i’m..i will get you another shirt. stay there.” he sped off “but i still would’ve won” he glared back at you.
later..”did you do that because you think you can’t beat me fairly?” he raised a brow slightly condescending. that irked you, but your tried not to show it “oh i can beat you, it’s just more fun to watch you fuck up.” you smile, he tilts his head, pushing those glasses up with that stupidly hot look in his crimson eyes. “alright, how about a bet?” your curiosity was peaked “hm.. what kind?” his lip quirked up slightly “tomorrows math test. whoever gets a higher score has to do something the other asks.. no refusal.” he straightened up for a second and that scary look softened “unless ofc it’s utterly unreasonable.” then the look returned “will you take it up?” you thought for a second..”dont go back on your word when i beat you and ask some crazy shit” you smile, amused.
he grins, you rarely saw that.. your heart beat a bit faster for some silly reason. “deal.”
after the test.. “you want me to what?!” you asked startled, mouth ajar. this COULDNT be the same iida tenya who spoke strictly and enforced rules with a stick up his ass. his face didn’t change. he stepped closer, backing you up against the edge of his bed. iidas hand brushed your hair back, gripping the back of your neck firmly, he smirked. “i want to touch you” he spoke into your ear.
now.. you bit down on your lip, drawing blood, trying your hardest to stifle any sounds. he gripped your hand, “don’t do that. i wanna hear it, i wanna hear you..” he kissed and nipped his way up to your lips, removing your hand. you’d never seen that face on him before, one of amusement and lust.. needy in those eyes, glasses fogged up-some of your slick still on them. “this is a trip..” you whimper, words muffled as he licks up the blood on your lips, tongue chasing yours in hot heady kisses.
“why do you say that? is it so crazy that i want you.” your heart thudded fast like a day ago. your body heated as he drew his fingers out of you, spreading them and smiling at the wetness stuck to em. “i always wondered..” he put them in his mouth and sucked.. eyes closing to savor the taste. “holy shit.” you muttered breathy, insanely turned on. iida made his way back to your lips, making out wetly. you chased his mouth as he drew up to strip his shirt off and push his glasses up with a finger. “you taste good..little salty and-“ “shut up!” you cut him off embarrassed “i don’t need a rundown of my—where did u learn to do that anyway.. i thought u were a virgin??” he smiled devilishly “who said im not? i simply did my research.” before you could question it he bent back to down to mouth at your chest.
“iida..” you temebled as he grinded against you. “tenya. use my first name, please.” there’s that polite good guy you knew. he ate you out with so much fervor it was like he was making out with your core. your legs shook as he licked right up the middle and nose nudged your clit left and right. “i-i need to..fuck i need to pee wait p-please” those blood red eyes only grew more excited as he doubled down. “do it. i don’t care, in fact i fucking need it” he growled into your pussy.
“t-tenya..!” you couldn’t hold it any longer and came hard, he happily licked it all up, kissing everywhere along you. he dug his tongue in you, almost reaching that spongy spot as his glasses pressed indents into you. he lapped up every drop as you came down from that peak, all the while his hips never stopped grinding into the mattress. with a guttural groan he finally pulled off you. the sight was so sexy you almost came again. his lips and face were flushed a cute pink, lips and face up to his eyes sweaty and slicked. then you realize..
“did you just..from giving me head??” you would’ve laughed if you had the fucking energy. his body loomed over yours as he sat up on his knees. he tugged his sweats down a bit and sighed at the sticky mess. “don’t judge. it’s your fault anyhow.” “hahah…” you caught your breath for a minute as he rubbed your hips, placing a shirt over you and cleaning up with a towel. those crimson eyes never left you.
you noticed he was hard again, iida follows your stare “i’ll deal with it.” you grabbed his hand “wait..i can do it for you.. if you want?” you crawled over towards him, back arched. hands on his sweats. he grit his teeth “yeah i want it, so fucking bad.”
You're slipping on an earring when Atsumu bullies his way into the bathroom.
"Girl's night, huh?" he gripes. "Are you sure I can't go?"
You scoff. That doesn't dignify an answer. You just keep adjusting yourself in the mirror, tugging a bit at the material, swiping at your fallen mascara.
"I can't believe-- holy shit."
"What?" you ask.
"Your fuckin' body." Atsumu is suddenly glued to your side. "Holy shit. This fucking dress. I'm rock hard."
He grips your hips and jerks you sideways, right into his hips. You can feel it through his thin athletic shorts-- his cock is pulsing.
"See? I'm fully bricked up." Hunched over, he ruts his hips into yours, at first jokingly, but then the motion doesn't stop. "God, you putting on the red lipstick too?"
"-tsumu," you chide, but it does nothing. No, he humps you like a dog, arms wrapping around you easily.
"Tsumu-"
"Mmm, fuck-" he awkwardly props a keg up, trapping you against the sink. He huffs and grunts and whines, hands qeapped around your head.
"Do not fuck up my hair!"
"God, you're so hot. Gotta wear those stilettos too. God, those little black ones-"
a/n: i’ve been genuinely terrified to write for him
your knees are on either side of eren’s face and his fingers are digging harshly into your hips trying to yank you down, succeeding only with a couple centimeters. he smacks your thigh and you jerk forward but still hold off on doing what he wants.
“god damnit i said sit down.” spank!
“hey!” you grab onto his wrist and dig your nails in.
“shut the fuck up.” a bite to your thigh. “food doesn’t talk.” he yanks you the rest of the way down.
he nips at your clit pulling a gasp from your perfect lips before he sucks it into his mouth. his tongue lashes against it, laughing into you when your legs tremble.
“‘s what i fuckin thought.” he licks down to your pussy.
he pushes his tongue in only to lick back up to your clit and tease the sensitive bud. “fuck!” you lean forward grasping at the headboard. “fuck just- ngh! do something right!” you grind against his face.
he groans and sucks are on your clit harder, fingers digging into your hips so hard you wince. he lifts a hand just for you to hear the smack! of him spanking you before you feel the sting. he spanks your other cheek making you rut against his mouth.
“s- stop playing with your food!” you reach down and dig your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer to your cunt.
his cock throbs at your words, hips jerking up into the air as he pulls you closer down on his mouth, sucking and licking at you, your juices dripping down his chin now. he moans into you, licking down and finally shoving his tongue in your wet heat.
he fucks you slowly, lifting his hand and spanking you again, alternating his hands, groaning at the way you pussy is contracting around his tongue. you rock against his face, pushing closer when you feel his nose rubbing against your clit.
“eren!” your head drops and you fully start riding his face.
you chase your pleasure, whining out his name, not caring what you sound like knowing he’s gonna give you shit for it either way. he lets you ride his face and tongue, getting harder at each sound that comes from your parted lips. he looks up at you and his eyes roll back a little at the sight of you.
“fuckfuckfuck!” your tummy clenches and you cum, rutting against his face, toes curling as he groans into you. “jus- hah! eren just a- nghh!” he won’t let go until you’re almost pulling his hair out.
“‘m gonna cum stop.” he pants, grabbing your wrist.
“yeah?” you let out a breathy chuckle. “gonna cum in your pants like some loser?” you push his forehead back into the bed.
spank! then he has you flipped over on you back before you can even blink.
izuku letting katsuki fuck his girlfriend ⭑.ᐟ mdni ᭝ threesome, unprotected p in v, creampie, brief cum play, lots of praise from izuku in the cuck chair
your cheek's pressed into the sheets, hands fisting in the fabric as katsuki fucks into you from behind. low grunts under his breath, jaw tight, pace relentless. his hands are rough on your hips, dragging you back into each thrust, hard enough so you feel every inch, every grind, every low, deep press of his cock as he fucks into that same aching spot over and over again.
izuku's curled close, lying on his side just... watching. one hand resting light on your thigh, the other tucked under his head, soft eyes flicking between your face and down to where katsuki's cock keeps disappearing into you.
"you're taking him so well," he murmurs, thumb brushing a little higher, just grazing the edge of your ass, the curve of your hip. his voice is soft, too soft for how filthy it makes you feel. "look at you, angel... you're so full, he's stretching you out so pretty."
you nod meekly, eyes glinting as a sharp gasp slips past your lips when katsuki fucks into you harder, as if he's punishing you for forgetting who's inside you.
izuku hums, dark eyes flicking to katsuki's before returning to yours, smiling. "i know, sweetheart... it's too much, huh?"
katsuki growls low behind you. a quiet, "shut the fuck up," as he slides a hand up to the back of your neck, palm warm against your skin as he presses in so deep you let out a choked, ah— katsuki
"that's it," izuku coos, completely unfazed. "just breathe through it. you're doing so good."
his hand smooths up your back, soothing and warm like he's trying to calm you down while he let's katsuki fuck you stupid right in front of him. like he's not hard under his sweats, cock pressed tight, precum spotting the fabric as he bites the inside of his cheek every time you moan.
"he's so mean, isn't he?" izuku murmurs, low near your ear. "but he always gives you exactly what you need. you should say thank you, baby," he encourages, lips pressing to the side of your neck. "go on, tell kacchan how thankful you are."
katsuki's cock twitches inside you with every word as you stutter out a quiet "t-thank you."
he lets out a curse under his breath as he drags his cock out, eyes focused on your slick coating him before he slams back in—hips flush to yours.
"you're gonna make him cum," izuku says sweetly, sliding one hand down between your thighs, fingers gentle and warm as they dip past where katsuki's cock is still fucking into you, slow just for a moment so neither of them miss the way you jerk when izuku touches you there—firm pressure pressing into you, brushing past katsuki's cock where it's stretching you out, slick and messy and so tender it makes you cry out.
"that's it," izuku murmurs, thumb catching right over your clit, a teasing flick, "there you go. we've got you."
katsuki groans as he lifts your hips a little more to angle deeper. "shit—" he bites out, "she's squeezin' me so tight."
you sob into the sheets. izuku's hand doesn't let up, while katsuki's pace stutters hard, hips snapping into you.
"keep talkin' to her like that, she's gonna cum. can feel it... keeps clenching every time you talk." katsuki mutters, eyes fixated on his cock glistening every time he pulls back just to hear you beg for more.
izuku just hums, "she wants to," he says, his own fingers coated in your slick as they keep moving slow against your clit now. "she's being so good for you kacchan. letting you fuck her that deep, letting me touch— being so brave, don't you think?"
katsuki drags you back onto him, hard, and it knocks a broken little sob out of your chest. "you hear that, baby?" katsuki grits, leaning in, mouth hot against your spine. "you're our good fuckin' girl, yeah?"
"y-yeah," you gasp, voice trembling as izuku presses a little firmer against your clit. "wanna be good for you both..."
"we know, sweetheart," izuku coos, soft and breathless, curling a little closer to you, nose bumping into your cheek as he presses soft kisses there. "you're doing so good. we know it's a lot."
"is it too much for you?" katsuki mumbles, pressing his own lips against your skin, "or you just like whinin' for us?"
you shake your head fast, fingers fisting tighter into the sheets, "no! don't stop, please... i-i'm gonna—"
"yeah?" he growls, fucking you through it harder. "you gonna cum all over my cock, baby? gonna let me feel it?"
"she's right there," izuku whispers beside you. "let it happen. we've got you."
it hits hard—blinding heat sparking deep and low as your body goes rigid, pussy clenching around katsuki so hard he swears, stutters, and slams in once, choking on a groan as he cums with you.
"fuck— i'm cummin'—" katsuki gasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips twitch, cock pressing deep and grinding through it as he spills into you in warm thick pulses.
izuku hums beside you, his fingers wet with your release coming up to stroke your thigh, before pressing a kiss to your temple and muttering, "that's it... that's our girl."
katsuki's grip trembles against your hips when he exhales against your skin. chest rising and falling against your back, hands smoothing up and down your sides before he pulls out.
still braced as he drags his cock free—covered in your release, flushed, and still twitching a little. he watches the way your pussy flutters from the loss. watches how wet and ruined you are. how his cum spills out of you, dripping past your thighs and pooling where your legs are still spread.
"fuckin' hell..." katsuki mutters, fingers reaching down to drag through the mess, smiling when your body twitches from the sensitivity.
izuku's fingers are still brushing lightly over your skin. "she looks pretty, huh?"
you try to hide your face in the sheets, body still too shaky to move, still panting—and izuku leans in to press another gentle kiss to your cheek, "did so good for us," he whispers.
"too good," katsuki mutters, rubbing a hand over your ass and squeezing gently, watching another thick drip slide down and groaning under his breath. "fuck, look at this mess..."
your body twitches again at the roughness in his voice, involuntarily, over-sensitive, and izuku just watches it happen—eyes dragging slow between your thighs where katsuki's cum still glistens across your pussy and drips out of you in lazy trails.
he hums, thoughtfully. before shifting closer. lowering himself a little. hands gentle as they slide over your thighs to ease them apart again, despite the way they tremble in protest. despite the soft noise you make when the cool air hits.
katsuki catches the movement from the corner of his eyes and snorts, still breathless, "you're such a fuckin' perv."
izuku just smiles, pretty and flushed and way too focused on the mess. "mhmm," he hums, breath ghosting low, just before he leans in, "i'm just cleaning it up."
you barely have time to register the first warm press of his tongue—slow and gentle, licking a stripe through the slick mess between your thighs of both yours and his best friends' release, the tip of his tongue brushing your clit—before he hums low in his throat, hands tightening around your hips like he's settling in, like he's not stopping until there's nothing left.
a/n a repost from my old & inactive blog eikyuunimain (mariinktg) so if it looks familiar, that's why! likes and reblogs are much appreciated! | mha masterlist
sukuna knows women. he knows how to please them. how to make them moan, whine, cry. but knowing how to please a woman doesn’t mean he knows women. aka a woman’s cycle. in simple terms, sukuna has mainly grown up with men, his gramps, his brothers, toji — all he knows is a girl has a period, but he has never bothered to stay with a girl long enough to actually address her period.
well until his fuck buddy, you, open your door for him.
his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you towards his chest, lips locking with yours in moments. “Mmm,” he groans, tongue pushing past your lips, just to feel you press a hand to his chest. your lips break, air filling his lungs in disdain, eyes narrowing at you for pushing him away.
“you didn’t text me, dude,” you say, letting him pull away to drop his backbag on the floor, plastic bag in hand as he kicks his shoes off.
“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.
you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.
“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“
you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“
“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“
“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”
….
a silent beat passes.
then.
FUCK!
sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.
you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.
“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.
“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.
“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.
you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.
you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—
“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.
your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.
that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.
it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.
that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.
but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.
this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…
and yet, you won’t stop moving!
at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.
“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.
“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”
his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!
“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.
however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.
what’s going on?
“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.
your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”
“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”
sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.
his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.
usually when your friends stop by to ramble you have the curiosity to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—
“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.
finally, some peace and quiet in the library.
…shift…
well, it could only last so long.
his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—
tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?
sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…
“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.
“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.
his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…
he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.
what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!
it didn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.
“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.
his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”
you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—
“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.
“huh?”
sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.
your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…
“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words that you here before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”
“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.
“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“
“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—
“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”
your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”
the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it was the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…
but he blinked. once. twice—
“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—
“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.
by now, he knows that look.
you wanna fuck.
“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”
he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“
“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”
shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?
“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”
your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.
“what’s different about today?”
he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—
“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.
his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”
your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.
his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”
you nod, immediately.
he doesn’t wait.
two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.
“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“
but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?
“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.
your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”
fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.
"ry—aa-haah!"
shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"
"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"
unbelievable.
and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.
“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”
he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”
“you okay with how we fucked?”
you don’t blink, “yeah.”
yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.
all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.
the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.
sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.
he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon like it was made for you. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.
he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.
nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”
sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together when he doesn’t have all the pieces yet. “it’s not random.”
nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”
sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”
nanami raises a brow. “into what.”
sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.
nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”
“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”
“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”
there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”
nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”
nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”
sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“
nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.
“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.
geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey! the love of god,” he mutters, loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time.”
gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”
sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.
“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he crack his neck.
“you wish,” gojo shoots back.
people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.
and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, like something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.
sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.
your clit throbs.
“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”
you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.
the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.
his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.
something about that makes his brow twitch.
because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked, heavy, almost… expectant.
it lingers a second too long. then—
“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten— no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking!”
“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.
sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.
the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls moved out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.
gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.
and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a drunk frat game.
“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.
“gojo! spike that shit!”
water slaps against tile. everything is moving fast, bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts. but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun, messy, loud, and heated.
and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.
sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.
a winning point. a cheer explodes. and when he lands, water dripping down his shoulders, he glances at you, canines on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.
something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.
on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.
but sukuna, is too locked into the game to notice.
the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.
you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you wanted to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—
your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving like a blur that you don’t focus on another moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.
your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.
“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“
your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.
it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.
even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”
sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.
“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…
the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.
sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.
you’re suddenly ripped away.
“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.
“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”
“LET’S GO!”
“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…
something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.
“damn!”
sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.
the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”
he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.
“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.
sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”
the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”
“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.
the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.
“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.
“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.
you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.
“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.
gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”
people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…
“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”
it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.
sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.
the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.
sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.
you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.
utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.
and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.
it irritates him, fast.
sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.
his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.
the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.
“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.
utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.
“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .
your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.
“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.
“oh my god I remember!”
your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”
sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.
gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.
and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.
but people are looking. they always are now.
they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.
he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.
you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.
and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.
his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.
“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”
utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”
“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”
a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”
you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”
sukuna catches it.
the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,
by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.
sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”
they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.
gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”
and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.
“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.
“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.
you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.
“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.
“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“
“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”
gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.
sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.
you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.
“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.
sukuna tenses. breath hitching.
his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.
“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.
“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“
“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”
his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?
you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.
it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.
“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.
to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.
“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.
“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.
he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.
“yeah baby.”
a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tube’s edge.
“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”
unbelievable.
sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.
“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.
“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”
your brain short circuits. face burning hot.
“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tube water touch your heated pussy.
“you’re gettin on top of me—“
“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.
“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”
you blink. once.
sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”
ah fuck.
“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.
you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”
his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”
“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.
your flush with embarrassment, lips petting as your eyes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”
unbelievable.
his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.
as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!
“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.
fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.
gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”
geto elbows him. “idiot!”
gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.
“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.
“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.
a beat passes.
then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”
“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“
“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”
geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”
gojo nods, “yeah…”
your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.
his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.
you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”
“and?”
your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“
“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.
you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.
your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”
your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately rush the heat down into his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.
sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now rubbing you’re humping his cock like you can even feel something with the water’s friction.
all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.
“shit.”
you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”
your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.
but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the you can’t even stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.
“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.
you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.
his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.
you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”
that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.
“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”
you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away with panting at him through glossy lidded eyes.
and then sukuna notices.
the shift.
your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.
his grip tightens instinctively.
your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change his cock twitching uncontrollably.
your brows pinch, then your body tenses, then softens, like a wave hitting and pulling back all at once. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.
and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. because now he knows. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes—like something wired wrong in his brain just flipped on. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—
absolutely the fuck not.
but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.
and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfied settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”
his lips ghost over you.
then he feels it…the eyes.
his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they. witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.
“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”
his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.
“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.
“no.”
his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.
“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips for yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”
you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”
that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
and people notice.
of course they do.
your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it almost burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”
“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.
your stomach twists. uncomfortable. sharp. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you no claim, no say, no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and it’s like they’re in on something they’re not supposed to be. they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.
your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.
your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.
“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.
sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”
“people are staring,” you grit.
your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.
“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.
his head tips back in defeat.
unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.
“can you walk faster,” you mutter.
sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.
“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer. closer. until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you.
hard.
it’s sudden. messy. all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.
and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are pockets, small ones, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.
but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.
he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.
he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.
“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist like he’s grounding himself. “you taste so good.”
your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.
“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”
there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follow inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.
and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.
“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discard them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“
your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.
“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as the slick that lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”
“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.
the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”
fuck you. seriously.
his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.
his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.
“look like a fuckin’ porn star in top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing yours tits. “fucking brat—“
his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.
it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…
“cu—uh—cum.”
an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.
“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”
“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.
“you can keep going?”
you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.
“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.
you mewl against his lips, earning a hard spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he doesn’t that for god know how long, and when you finally spasm around his digits, he’s flipping you over and easily getting on top.
“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out. he must know his voice’s affects on you.
you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your pussy. “what dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.
“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over these last two days.
he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“
“hot tub.”
“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”
“pleaseee,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with his hard your dick was.”
sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”
you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”
“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!
you raise a brow at him, relaxing back against the pillows and headrest, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”
sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”
“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.
“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.
“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”
“because I’m touching you?”
you nod.
“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels like it’s leaving a trail across your body.
you nod.
his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy. turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.
“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”
your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.
“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.
you nod.
his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bend beside you. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”
you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.
his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.
you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ been horny these past few days.”
your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”
something dark and electric flashing through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it—just heat, thick and immediate, his grip on your hand tightening to the point it almost borders on rough.
“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, like he’s grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”
“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds.
“keep going,” he husks.
your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. use me. cum in me.”
“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”
your lips are glossed with spit as presses his lips against them. swallowing your moans as he snaps his hips into a mean thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.
and you love it.
the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside the windows is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the strobe lights outside, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.
“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside you poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, won’t make me stop.”
and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. harder than usual because he knows he’ll get away with it just a bit more when you’re ovulating. and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight behind each thrust — you don’t push him away.
“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy humps. the rasp in his throat has you holding him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is.
and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.
“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters.
“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”
he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, yeah you definitely smell good.”
your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“
“you humped me in the hot tub.”
your brows scrunch together. “so?”
he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.
he smirks.
of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you’re stuffed with loads of his cum.
“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, and your face burn, and heart skip a beat…you don’t comment about it. you don’t address. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.
and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.
more frat!kuna here
a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!
and thank you for the wait. I really put most of my free time into this so I can’t tell u when I’ll finish the next chapter of the series, so bare with me for another possible week of agony :’(
Summary: a story in which the demon that gets sent to you ends up being more charming than he is scary, resulting in a strange bond that makes you question your sanity.
Content/Warnings: explicit smut, profanity, porn w/ plot, some angst/comfort, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, aphrodisiacs (sukuna can fill the air w/ it), oddly wholesome
Notes: there was this one scene that ended up being pretty cute, so i just gave them a happy ending LMAO it's more on the fantasy side of things. anyways, enjoy
You never understood the drama between neighbors until you had a horror story of your own.
Quite literally.
Living in the apartment right under Nishimiya’s was hell. The worst being her stomping throughout her apartment. You’ve baked her cookies, you've tried talking to her, you’ve tried yelling at her— just 10 minutes ago you were on a stepping stool, beating on the ceiling with a broom like a psychopath.
And what does the little brat do? She stomps back, which was enough to pause your morning and confront her. Again.
“Nishimiya!” You call out for the second time, incessantly knock on her door. “I can hear you in there, can you just please answer the door. I can’t take this anymore!”
The door eventually swings open and you're met with the little brats usual scowl, acting as if she were the one that has been ripped out of her sleep, consistently, for nearly 2 months now. It smells like she’s been burning herbs or something all morning.
“God– what is it now?” She groans.
“I really need you to quit stomping around so much in the morning– I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
“Seriously?” She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “This is what you came to me for?”
“Yes! This is insane. Not even the last tenant before you made this much noise!”
“Well get over it,” She responds rudely. “You’re not the only one who pays to live here.”
And with that, she slams the door in your face. You can hear her mumbling something on the other side of the door, and you’re pretty sure she called you a bitch.
What you didn’t see was her walking up to the small altar in the corner of her living room, picking up one of the older books that’s been passed down to her. And by old, that thing’s ancient. Pages and pages filled with spells written in latin, along with extra notes scribbled in them that were just as faded and the original print itself.
“I’ll give you something to complain about.”
Except, for as talented as she is, she’s still a baby witch, and the chill that ran down her spine immediately after doing her spell made her realize she had no idea what she had sent you.
—
You’ve been running for hours. Out of breath. Legs heavy. No matter how fast or how far you think you’ve gotten from him, he’s constantly 2 steps behind you.
What's worse is you just know he would’ve caught you already if he wanted. But what he truly wants is this— watching you run.
It’s in that cruel, menacing laugh of his, hearing the pure enjoyment rumbling out of him as he watches you scream and cry for your life— trying so damn hard to lose him. Yet in the end, he always ends up right in your ear.
“Got you.”
It’s been weeks since the night terrors have started. Every morning’s the same, waking up terrified and drenched in your own sweat, accompanied by the irritating noise of Nishimiya’s footsteps. Except now you’re too busy feeling unsettled in the mornings to even care about them.
Life’s been off. The apartment’s been colder. Quieter. Nothing helps. Not even opening all the windows and balcony doors to let some fresh air in gets rid of the dread that manages to cling to each and every corner of your space.
Something watches you.
You’re not the superstitious kind, but you can just feel something’s there. Looming over you. Following you. Messing with you. One minute you're tearing apart your living room, trying to look for the T.V remote, the next you’re opening one of your cabinets to find it placed dead center on a stack of plates.
You walk away from the microwave to go do something, and when you come back, it’s paused, even though you know you hit start. You even watched it the first 30 seconds of warming up.
Ignoring it didn’t work. All that did was escalate things. It went from chasing you in your dreams to pining you to your bed, murmuring the craziest shit in the shell of your ear.
“Did you miss me, Princess?”
“Do you really think pretending I’m not here will make me go away?”
“Come on, just talk to me— I don’t bite.”
“Wow. Not even a ‘leave me alone’ or ‘fuck you’. How about this, give me 5 minutes and I’ll tell you where I hid your favorite panties.”
You’re ashamed to say that last one is what broke your silent streak.
Over the next few weeks, you learn some things about him. He is in fact a demon— something he actually got incredibly offended at, by the way.
He preferred the term incubus.
He also dislikes being called a sex demon, something you called him because you wanted to offend him some more, thinking maybe that would make him leave.
It didn’t. He just gave you another night terror. One that had an extra kick to it— making you swim from him in the murkiest water you’ve ever seen, instead of the usual drill, chasing you through the woods.
He thought it was hilarious.
You never called him that again.
Unfortunately, being a literal demon isn’t the worst part about him. It’s the fact that he never shuts up. He goes back and forth between flirting with you and ragebaiting you, all fucking day. You’ve tried to get rid of him. You’ve even gone back to Nishimiya and begged her to remove whatever she put on you.
At first she denied summoning him, acting like she didn’t know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until a moment of weakness, when you genuinely broke down in front of her, did she attempt to cut whatever string it was that tied him to you.
Except it wasn’t a string that tied him to you, it was more like a chain with how he threatened to curse her entire family for eternity if she went through with it.
Now she won’t even look at you, let alone speak to you. The stomping even came to an end, and you wish you could be happy about it, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when it traded itself for another problem that was substantially worse..
You never knew what it felt like to feel truly defeated until that day. It wasn’t even Nishimiya who told you that the deal was off. It was him. Laughing in your room at 1:00 am, telling you how you should’ve just made a deal with him.
That was a hard pass. You’ve never even seen him. It didn’t even make sense, you were trying to get rid of him, not get more involved.
It wasn’t just your day that was ruined, it was your entire week. Work did a number on you, which just added to all of the problems you already had from your apartment. The weekend went by way too short, the following Monday went by way too long, and by the time you got home, you wanted to scream out into the world until your lungs ruptured.
Your final straw was finding the remote in the kitchen cabinet.
Again.
“It’s a remote. Why are you so obsessed with it?!” you snapped at literally nobody, because the thing you had a problem with wasn’t even visible.
You didn’t bother putting the remote back where it belonged. You threw it at the couch, and ended up getting mad that it didn’t slip out of your hand mid throw, hit the wall, and break into a million pieces. The deep breath you took before walking back to the kitchen didn’t help your mood at all either.
Had it been a good day, you definitely would’ve been terrified of the reflection you saw on the glassdoor of your microwave.
But on a bad day…
“Oh for fucks sake— what is the point in hiding if you’re just gonna stand there and wait for me to catch you?! You want to be seen so bad!! Just fucking show yourself already!”
The change in the air was instant. You found yourself instantly regretting blowing up on the ominous shadow figure that tormented you for a living. But, you made your bed, so you stayed and faced whatever was lingering in the room.
It wasn’t as startling as you thought it’d be. He slowly materialized into the room until he was solid, like everything else around him. The only thing that was unnerving about it was having a complete stranger in your home.
“Happy?” he asks, as if he were fed up with your shit.
You don’t answer at first. You couldn’t. And it’s not like you’re scared, you’re just… shocked. In your head, he was some disgusting, slimy monster with shark teeth— he’s not. He’s tall and nothing but pure muscle, covered in thick tattoos. Pink hair, striking red eyes, and god, his face. You stared at it for longer than you should have.
“...I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself,” you end up saying, silently kicking yourself for how apologetic you sounded.
“So you just blurt out a bunch of shit when you’re mad without thinking?” he condescendingly asks, before mouthing ‘wow’ to himself.
“I– I’m in my house right now,” you sputter, in complete disbelief over how judgemental he is. “You shouldn’t even be here!”
“Good thing laws don’t apply to me,” he responds arrogantly, then changes the subject. “You should be more careful with what you invite to your space.”
“Last time I checked it was you who chose to start haunting me.”
“Last time I checked, it was blondie who summoned me.” He continued to argue with you as he made himself at home, taking a seat on the couch like he’s done a million times before.
“A fucking demon of all things,” you mumble to yourself, forgetting he didn’t like to be called that in the process.
He gives you the side eye, but you’re too busy being pissed off at Nishimiya all over again to even notice, so he lets it slide. “It’s Sukuna, by the way.”
“What?”
“My name?” he responds as if you're stupid, clearly not too fond of repeating himself even though you don’t remember asking for it in the first place.
“Oh.”
“Mhm. You should say it,” he smirks.
You weren’t sure if it was some form of power play or if he was just some horny freak that loved hearing his own name. Either way, you don’t say his name for him.
“So remind me again why you won’t let Bigfoot undo her little spell,” you cut to chase, not bothering to explain who that is. He should already know who she is by now given how much you’ve complained about her by yourself. “What are you even getting out of this?”
“Entertainment,” he casually says with a shrug.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I love watching people have breakdowns after work.” The little dig earns him a glare. “Also, Bigfoot’s not strong enough to reverse the spell she did. Only reason she was able to summon me was because I let her,” he mentions, clearly looking to continue the conversation.
You find yourself processing that for longer than you should, wondering if you even heard him correctly. “Can I ask why you let her summon you and then send you to someone else's home?”
“I dunno. Guess I just wanted to see what would happen.”
He talks about it like it’s some experiment and you’re reminded of how unlucky you are to be one of the casualties in it.
“Sounds like you have a lot of power, or whatever,” you murmur, crossing your arms and taking a seat on the couch armrest. “You can’t just go?”
“I can,” he says, as if you were undermining him. All that goes through your head is how messed up his priorities must be if that's something he gets defensive over. “Kinda bound myself to you though, so I’d rather not.”
You felt the blood drain from your face.
Then it got worse.
He wouldn’t even fully explain what a binding was. You only know he did it because he liked how quiet your apartment was. No spouse or children. No pets either. And yes, he does leave to go “feed” and fuck with peoples lives, he just does that while you’re at work.
You suggested he could go do that while you’re home, so he doesn’t bother you, and he refused— without bothering to explain, again.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just go do all that when I’m home,” you continue to argue with him, but no amount of explaining will make him budge— not until you accused him of wanting something from you.
“Well?” you say impatiently, mentally preparing yourself to listen to him list a bunch of things.
He didn’t have to think twice. “We could fuc—“
You hold a hand out, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence. “Something that doesn’t have anything to do with my mind, body, or soul.”
“Fine.” He clicks his tongue, looking at you like you had just ruined all his fun. “I want you to acknowledge me— and not just when you’re running through an imaginary forest, acting like you’re about to die or something. I want it when you’re awake, like right now.”
Your jaw really shouldn’t be on the floor right now. He’s a fucking demon, of course he’d be this insensitive to other peoples struggles.
“Did you really just invalidate weeks worth of nightmares and sleep deprivation?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Did you blatantly ignore me for weeks?” he counters, proving that he really did have an answer for everything.
“I didn’t choose this,” you remind him.
“And that’s no one else's fault but bigfoots,” he redirects the blame, trying to make it seem like you two were on the same team or something, after spending weeks chipping away at your sanity, all in the name of entertainment.
It’s un-fucking-believable. You end up taking a deep breath, trying to remember what you were even talking about in the first place. Not to mention that you needed to calm down. Something about him sent your blood pressure levels skyrocketing.
You guess one good thing about him was that he didn’t rush you or try to fill the silence, something you probably would’ve thanked him for had it been something you noticed way sooner.
“So you want acknowledgement?” you ask in a more relaxed tone, trying to meet the guy half way.
He noticed that, along with how tired you looked, and started to feel a little bad. Enough to try to match your energy at least. “Mhm. In return, no more night terrors.”
You wanted nothing more. But you also weren’t in the mood to get your hopes up with this guy. “...Didn’t you just say that you found stuff like that entertaining?"
“Oh, I do,” he says reassuringly. “You just don’t have the same amount of fear as you used to. You don’t run as fast anymore either. Takes the fun out of it.”
Well. At least he stays true to himself.
“I see.” You nod, acting as if you totally understood where he was coming from.
You were a shitty actress though, and realized he wasn’t going to let you get away with the dry tone when you saw the little smile on his face.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like being chased a little.”
The laugh that came out of you was the kind an overworked employee gives their boss the day after they've started applying for new jobs.
“I really didn’t.”
With how crazy that laugh was, he believed you. He also looked at the clock, hoping it was an appropriate time for someone to sleep. You needed it.
“Nine’s is a good time to go to bed, no?” he casually asks, but you knew what he was doing.
It was a relief, honestly. “It is. I think I might just sleep early.” You probably looked a little rude getting up as fast as you did, but you were starting to feel crazy just talking to him. A full night’s rest might fix that, but if it doesn’t, at least you’ll actually be rested. “So you just… want me to say hi whenever I see you?”
“No.” He doesn’t bother to hide how much he hated the idea. “Just stop acting like I don’t exist.”
“Ok.” Easy enough. He’ll probably be invisible or whatever most of the time anyways, so it wouldn’t be an issue. Right before you walk away, you ask one last question. “You won’t be whispering weird things to me anymore either, right?”
He snorts, “you think that’s as bad as the night terrors?”
There’s a bit of hesitation on your end when you realize he thinks you’re joking. It’s not until you stop and give him a concerned look when he realizes you’re dead serious.
“I do… that’s why I was wondering if those will come to an end, too.” It sounded so awkward coming out of you. You hoped Sukuna would say something in return that would smooth it out, but he made it ten times worse. It was a yes or no question, he didn’t have to drag the time out for as long as he did.
It’s not until you decide to show signs of your growing impatience through an exasperated sigh when he finally says something.
“Only if you say my name.”
“That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want.” He wasn’t smug about it this time, if anything he sounded awfully sincere. “Let me hear you say it once and I’ll leave your sleep alone.”
Even if he didn’t have the smirk he had on earlier, you were still reluctant to say it. It’s the second time he’s asked in under an hour. “Why do you want me to say it so bad though?”
“You said you’d acknowledge me more, didn’t you?”
“Yeah...”
“Then say it for me.”
—
He drove you insane at first.
That was the goal, to annoy you so much that you’d break and beg him to stop. Seeing people in mental agony was just something he liked. Not that he ever does, he just brings up what you could do to get him to stop.
He pitches it like it’s a sale. From romanticizing what he does, to promising that he’d make you feel really good, he never ran out of reasons as to why you should just give into him. You remember staring at him for a few seconds. Dumbfounded and struggling to wrap your head around what just came out of his mouth.
“I’m not going to let you feed from me.”
His pause was much longer. Not that the rejection left him offended or anything. It was worse, he was confused. Concerned, even— looking at you like there was genuinely something wrong with you.
“You—” He paused again, scratching the back of his head as a little laugh escaped him, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m not letting you feed from me,” you repeated yourself, sounding more irritated that time around. “Do you not realize how draining it is to be bound to someone? Let me enjoy what’s left of my sanity.”
All he hears is you complaining about having to be around him and scoffs. He wasn’t that bad to be around.
“It doesn't even work like that.”
“No?” You turn and ask, getting his hopes up for a moment, thinking you’d give him a chance to explain. Then you let out a disappointed sigh. “Actually— don’t even answer that.”
He dropped the subject, but that wasn’t the end of it.
But it didn’t bother you as much as it should’ve. It probably would’ve if he had stayed more mysterious, hiding in the shadows and all. But not now. No longer the unnerving monster in your dream, he was your annoying, unwanted roommate.
And maybe that’s where you fucked up— you stopped seeing him as the boogeyman. Now he’s just… there. He was wanted too. You grew to enjoy having him around.
Even when he’d randomly pop up outside of your apartment.
“Another bag of apples?” He begins to scold you in the middle of the grocery store. Nobody can hear or see him, just you. “Just go grab 2 or 3 of them. You’ve already wasted the last 2 bags.”
An irritated sigh leaves your lips as you set them down. You hated whenever he was right.
“Everyone’s gonna think you’re a brat if you keep pouting like that.”
No, they’re actually gonna think you’re psychotic for the way you’ll sometimes murmur and laugh to yourself. And for all the times you’ve looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with nothing. You could tell them who you were talking to, but the ones who would believe you would be healthcare workers, but they’d probably start asking if you’ve been feeling like someone's been out to get you on most days.
“The coffee you get is on sale by the way,” he mentions, trailing right behind you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to be nice and all, but it never usually gets you anywhere.
“You look like a freak whispering to yourself like that.”
“Fuck off.”
“Arguing with yourself makes you look even worse.” He laughs at his own little joke, his favorite part was that nobody else could hear him except for you.
There were the occasional, and gifted, individuals out there who could see him. It’s usually the ones that look at you like you're walking around with a machete in public. You can’t really blame them, he looks out of place in grocery stores and coffee shops.
It must be odd to see him trail behind you, but it’s mainly you getting judged at that point. I mean, come on. There surely must be something wrong with you if you choose to be around him.
Do you not have any real friends?
The ones that your cashier can see. The ones that you can talk to as you set your produce down on the conveyor belt. The ones you can turn to and ask for spare change if you want to hold on to an extra bill.
“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” the said cashier asks.
You smile and say, “yeah.”
She’ll never know how hard it was for you to keep a straight face when Sukuna started to mess with you, muttering, “she never does,” in your ear, acting as if he was tired of you making people think you had your life together.
Wouldn’t he still count since it was all meant to put a smile on you?
Shouldn’t that be enough?
—
He thought you were dead once.
Between the way he felt about you and the fact that he thought human beings were weak, it could’ve been an overreaction, but that didn’t matter. He still felt it— all of that dread, just tearing through his chest.
It started off as a small cold and falling asleep on the couch. Then the next couple days all morphed into one big, blurry memory. The only things you remembered were that you were cold and tired.
So fucking tired.
Not even falling off the damn couch woke you up. It was Sukuna, who had been shaking you for what felt like forever for him, that finally pulled a mumble out of you. The only reason why you hadn’t woken up sooner was because he wasn’t trying to give you whiplash.
He was getting there though.
“Hey.” His voice faded in and out at first, but you heard the desperation. The anger. “Fucking get up already— Hey!”
You eventually whined. Had the nerve to be all pouty, and that pissed him off, but that was better than whatever he was just a minute ago. He didn’t say anything at first, just tried to catch his breath.
“Scared the shit out of me.” His chest continued to rise and fall, in disbelief over how bad that was. How bad he felt. The way he was starting to fucking lose it.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyes not even open.
“You,” he scoffed, still holding on to your upper half. “Thought your dumbass fell and hit your head.”
“M’fine— just cold,” you mumbled, barely registering the ache in your bones. Or how worried he was. “Think I’m sick.”
“No shit,” he snapped, then continued to curse under his breath as he scooped you up into his arms.
You tried arguing something, but the words just came out all groggy and incoherent, and were met with silence as he carried you back into your room. The only time you weren’t was when he heard a little, “so mean,” but it was just to laugh.
There was only one blanket on your bed when he finally set you down. The rest were still in your living room. He was back before you even realized he left and soon had all of them layered on top of you, which wasn’t enough apparently since the shivering didn’t come to a complete stop.
“Still cold?”
“No.”
“You’re still shivering.”
No answer. He didn’t care to pull one out of you either, and decided to just get in bed with you. He thought there’d be some resistance when he pulled you on top of him, but you practically clung to him and tucked your face into the crook of his neck.
“Better?”
You let out a hum, nodding against him. It wasn’t weird. It didn’t feel wrong. Not even when he wrapped his arms around you and slowly rubbed your back. The shivering stopped shortly after, letting you finally relax against him.
“Sukuna?”
His name sounded so sweet coming from you. He almost entertained it, especially when you never ask for him like that. A palm circled over your back to show he was still okay with how you two were laying.
And then he decided he was fine with never knowing what you were going to say, especially with how delirious you were earlier.
“Go to sleep.”
You two don’t talk about that day, even when things between you were normal after.
There wasn’t any change, no weird tension. You were still comfortable around him, he still acted his usual way around you. It’s just not something you two talk about.
That’s just how it went when things that were out of the ordinary happened, which started happening a lot.
Like that one time you learned he can sense when people are “in need”.
It drove him up the wall. He was quick with you at first, harsher than usual, up until he couldn’t take it anymore and through an exhausted sigh, said, “you gotta take care of that.”
You froze and turned to see him running a hand down his face, looking incredibly pained. “Take care of what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he groaned, as if he were over you playing dumb.
A conversation that ended with your back hitting your mattress and his head finding itself in between your thighs. You were falling apart just seconds after burying his face in your cunt like he was fucking starving. You were a sobbing mess— knees pinned to your chest, squirming under him as he continued to obscenely eat you out.
“Oh my god–” you whined, feeling the grip on the backs of your thighs grow tighter, “Sukuna— f-fuck–”
“That’s it— keep crying my name like that,” he groaned against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
As if he didn’t already know from the labored breathing or the way your thighs trembled under his hold. Or the way your back arched off the bed whenever he’d suck your clit. He was shameless in the way he just wanted to make you cum over and over again.
You’re still surprised at how things went back to normal after something so intense, but it did. For the most part.
You thought about it more than you should. There were times where you’d even be overcome with guilt— it was something so wrong yet it felt so good.
You never brought it up.
He never tried again.
Sometimes you wonder if it’s because he knew that’s how you felt, and that he didn’t want to be told his existence was wrong again. It was easy for you to tell him that in the beginning, but then you went and wove him into your reality. Now you catch yourself before mentioning him when people ask how your life has been— every single time.
You remind yourself he’s not real.
Then you go home and forget all over again.
—
You stopped remembering your dreams after Sukuna stopped the night terrors. It’s something you don’t bring up, and chalk it up to being some sort of side effect. You don’t even know if you have them anymore, which was fine— can’t be a problem if it didn’t actually exist.
Until it started to seep into reality.
You started to feel off in the mornings. Unusually warm, feeling most of the heat in your cheeks. Your heart would be pounding in your chest, yet not one anxious thought in your head. You felt out of place, disoriented— like someone rearranged your brain in your sleep without telling you.
It went downhill fast.
One morning turned into several, feeling more feverish than the day before. Your breaking point was waking up in a pool of your own slick one morning— feeling so needy that it hurt, but too sensitive to move, leaving you with no other choice but to wait for it to pass.
You wanted to cry, but then Sukuna decided that he was going to appear at the worst time ever, so you sucked it up.
You had a feeling that whatever was happening to you was his fault, you just had no way to prove it. You didn’t want to prove it either. Knowing how smug he’d be from seeing how pathetic you look right now, talking to him at all was the last thing you wanted to do.
Instead of acknowledging him, you turn away— curling up and holding a pillow.
He lets out a laugh, then appears right back in front of you, laying on the empty side of bed while propping himself up with an elbow.
“Rough morning?” he asks rather innocently, pretending to care as he eyes traced over your body.
“Fuck off.”
“Rude,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s no way to talk to a concerned friend.”
“Not when the said friend is at fault,” you murmur back.
“That’s quite an accusation.” He lets out a low laugh, leaving you even more suspicious of him. “And what did I do exactly?”
“You got me sick with something.” The complaint ends up coming out as a whine, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into, avoiding looking at him completely.
“Did I now?”
“Mhm.”
“We both know you’re not sick, princess. Yeah, your skin’s feeling all hot right now, but let’s not act like you haven’t spent the whole morning squeezing your thighs together,” he smirks at the way your eyes widen, reaching forward to run the back of his finger down your cheek. “Kinda hate to break it to ‘ya, but a lot of this is you.”
“What does that even mean?” As irritated as you are at the moment, you just sound like you want to cry, which was fair with how vague his answer was.
He takes a moment to come up with an explanation, one that would make you less mad at him since he did have part in it. Trying to find another way to say ‘I planted the tiniest idea in your head and you made it so much fucking worse’, but also wanting it to make enough sense so you don’t ask a bunch of questions.
He’s really not in the mood for that right now.
“I got bored and entered one of your dreams— nothing crazy. Just wanted to say hi, fuck with you a little bit,” he starts to admit, and to your surprise, you actually believe him. “But then you went and made it weird after you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me.”
“I did not,” you finally look at him, but it’s a glare.
He looks you dead in the eyes. “You did.”
To his surprise, you didn’t try to argue with him on it. You seemed too worried about your little problem.
Two things come to mind— you must have it really bad right now if you’re too tired to have an attitude, and that there’s probably a lot that he can get away with saying to you right now, so it’s probably best to tell the truth now.
Even though it was really fucking hard.
“Anyways, you were being really sweet. Like really fucking sweet. So I thought, ‘this is new, I’ll stick around for a little longer,’ so I did.”
You don’t react to that much either aside from an eye roll, so he goes on to tell you more.
“You were being all giggly and shit— talking about… whatever you were talking about. I just sat there and listened. You were sitting on my lap by the way,” he casually adds, figuring it wouldn’t be the truth if he left out little details like that. You’re looking at him like he’s a dumbass for letting that happen, and in hindsight, he absolutely was. “You were super touchy too, like rubbing on my chest and kissing on my neck—”
You cut him off, “what the fuck?”
“I thought the same thing,” he says in defense, acting just as apalled as you. It doesn’t do much.
“Why would you let that happen?!”
Did you not just hear him? He was having the time of his fucking life in there. He doesn’t say that though, and instead points at you. “It was your dream. I can’t control what you do in there.”
You're massaging the side of your temple at this point, more disappointed than embarrassed, hoping that's the worst of it.
“Anyways, I ended saying a couple things to you and all hell broke loose from there.”
That immediately makes your stomach drop. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. He knows he fucked up, it’s practically written all over his face. “...what did you say to me?”
Apparently he wasn’t thinking straight, and ended up out-slutting you by talking about all the things he wanted to do to you. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he stopped at that, but he didn’t, and accidentally sealed the deal by asking, “I bet you’d like that, huh?”
And you said yes, like a dumbass.
It didn’t just plant the idea in your head either. He was so descriptive with his words that it also ended up putting an image of you two fucking in your head, and it’s been playing over and over again in your subconscious ever since.
That really wasn’t his intention. He brushed it off at first, thinking it wasn’t going to do much— he was wrong.
It was so fucking bad.
It wasn’t just you that got affected, it got him too. He has been going through it. There’s a part of you that likes the idea a little too much and it keeps reaching out and pulling at him. You weren’t doing it on purpose, you didn’t even know, so he fights it. Every time you tug at his senses, he ignores it. It’s the worst when you’re asleep, hence the issues you’ve been waking up with.
“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” As expected, you were annoyed. Not fuming though, which came as a surprise to him.
“It was a mistake,” he swears, holding off on saying that it was more your fault than his. He did not expect you to think about his dick this much.
“Can you reverse it or something?”
He snorts at the question and it almost sends you spiraling. It wasn’t because he found it funny, but because he’s already tried. It usually works in most cases, just not this one, because whether you want to believe it or not, you really like him.
“You can’t, but it’ll wear off over time.” Not that he’s planning on letting it fully wear off on its own, he’s reversing it the moment it starts to weaken.
“So I just have to suffer through this until then?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he grumbles, trying to hide the irritation he suddenly felt. It wouldn’t be that bad if there was some part of you that wanted him, yet you continue to ignore it— your thoughts and desires, even your fears.
He knows all about your fears.
He knows how you stay up sometimes, questioning your own sanity, if you’re just crazy and he’s one of the symptoms. That you think of him as the imaginary friend and how you fucking hate that. You hate how you can’t tell others about him too. He sees the way you look at him, he already knows how much you wish he was real. Maybe then you’d stop feeling guilty for choosing him over going out.
He understands and knows he doesn’t have the right to be mad, but he’s getting there from having to fight off the urges you send to him.
“Staying away from each other would probably work.”
It catches you off guard.
You weren’t expecting it to hit you as hard as it did. You find yourself having to pretend like it didn’t after realizing he wasn’t taking it back.
He sees the hesitation in your face. The confusion. The biggest of all was the disappointment— like you’re wondering why did he have to go and say that.
He doesn’t know why, but still, he doesn’t take it back. You never got to have a say when he bound himself to you, maybe one day you’ll realize this was him apologizing in the only way he knew he could by giving you the choice.
“How much would it help?”
“Enough. You wouldn’t be spending your entire morning in bed,” he says, trying to sound optimistic about it. Not that it works. He keeps trying to meet your eyes and there’s a dull look in them telling him that you’ve mostly left by now— an attempt to protect what he hasn’t hurt in the last 5 minutes.
There was a lump in your throat and the only way to get rid of it was to look past him.
The choice was obvious, but you still think about it harder than you should. Trying to find a way to agree with him. Looking for reasons to justify an answer that was already right. It was logical.
You somehow ended up in fantasy land some time ago, you had your fun, now it was time to go home. It’s harder than you think— telling yourself that none of this was actually real, that there’s nothing to be sad about, that you knew this day would eventually come.
It’s okay to not want this to end, but it was going to happen.
Don’t be dumb.
Just do it already.
“We should just do that then,” you quietly say.
“Alright,” he hums, not showing you much aside from the fact that it’s something that he’ll accept.
Making the right choice doesn’t make you feel any better. The ache in your chest continues to build. You hated how you wanted more than just a simple “alright.” You wanted to know what he thought, how he felt. Why was that so easy for him?
He wasn’t supposed to matter this much.
Sukuna wasn’t in a hurry to leave and lays on the bed with you a little longer. You’re still curled up on your side, and he doesn’t think you’re aware of how unhappy you look as you start to zone out, probably beating yourself up over it.
He’s not happy about this either. He wasn’t sure how this conversation would end when he decided he was going to tell you what happened, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He didn’t think he’d be the one to make the suggestion either, let alone that he’d stick with it. But there ended up being a good reason for it in the end, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel very guilty about it.
It’s okay if it ends like this.
He reaches over and gently rests his hand on your head, pulling you out of whatever train of thought you were having. The stoic face he had on before was gone when you finally looked back at him.
He looks satisfied.
“Not a lot of people get to wiggle their way out of bindings, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood by poking some fun at you one last time. “Especially mine.”
“What an honor,” you murmur, clearly not in the mood.
“The highest.” His lips twitch into a smile— can’t say he’s mad about someone feeling sad about seeing him leave for once. The cheesy response doesn’t put a smile on you or anything, but it makes you ease up on the sulking. It was enough for him.
He doesn’t say anything else after that. He just keeps his eyes on you, etching all the little details about you into his memory, knowing this will be the last time he’ll get to do it. It’s not just your face and features that he tries to remember, but also how you let him stay around a little longer so he could do this.
There’s certain things that Sukuna just doesn’t do, and he’s accepted that he’s not as fixed as he thinks he is. It was easy for you to move him after making him remember that he was a human at one point too— a fact that he had forgotten long ago until you made him feel like one again.
He has no regrets, despite his time being cut short with you. It was bittersweet, but he was satisfied.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head as his final goodbye, and when you opened your eyes, he was gone.
—
A month has gone by since you parted ways.
You tried to enjoy it at first— the stillness, the uninterrupted silence. Then after a couple days, you started wondering if the apartment had always felt empty as it did. If it had always felt as cold as it did. You tried to ignore it, and blamed it on your miserable mornings.
A week passed by. The side effects were still there, but they no longer got in the way of your life. You couldn’t place the blame on them anymore when you realized you still didn’t feel any better. Everything was still stale and lifeless.
It didn’t feel like sadness, just exhaustion. You found it hard to bring yourself to do the little things like walking to the store or answering the phone. It felt like everything you came into contact with just took from you, sleep was the only break you had.
If you had to be honest with yourself, there was a part of you that thought he’d come back at first. He was stubborn, never listened. Even if he didn’t have a good reason to come back, he’d make one up.
Then you realized you were waiting for something that was never promised, and wished it didn’t take as long as it did. You needed to get over it and move on, but you had no idea where to start. It wasn’t like you could talk about it.
I miss the ghost that used to haunt my apartment, people would look at you like you were fucking crazy. You doubt a therapist would cut it either. It was hard enough to find one that you clicked with, let alone one that wouldn’t lie about believing you.
Writing in a journal hasn’t worked— you swear it makes it worse. You had a pen in hand, ready to write, only for 30 minutes to go by and realize nothing’s been written down. You just stared at the blank page and started zoning out.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” a familiar voice grumbles.
You turn around and immediately freeze.
It’s Sukuna.
He’s here, standing in your kitchen with a scowl. He’s irritated— rubbing his eyes at first, and when that wasn’t enough, he slid his hands down his face, nearly ripping his skin off in the process.
“You have got to stop thinking about me so much— it’s driving me fucking nuts. How the hell do you get worse after a month?”
“Wait— what?” you breathe, still trying to process that he was here.
“Your thoughts, I can feel them. My fucking head hurts,” he throws his arms out as he continues to complain, as if he never left. “And christ— the fucking daydreams— what the hell does that help, huh?”
You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head. “I don’t—”
“They’re never normal,” he rudely cuts you off. “You made me die in a car crash once and started crying like you didn’t have control over that shit!”
You open your mouth to explain, but you quickly close it after realizing that you look crazy either way.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he grumbles out, ending his rant right there since he’s gotten enough off his chest. “You’re life's normal now, you’re supposed to be happy— that’s why I left.”
“...I’m sorry,” you say barely above a whisper, still shocked at his return.
He scoffs as he walks towards you. An apology wasn’t going to fix a headache that lasted for an entire month.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” he mutters, reaching out to you and pulling you into his arms. The hug catches you off guard, yet you still accept it, and wrap your arms around him. Once your head leans against his chest, you practically melt into him and let yourself relax.
“I missed you.” It was more of a complaint coming from you, as if you never wanted to go through the awful experience of missing him again.
“No shit,” he mutters back, resting his head on top of yours.
You stay like that with him for a while, but eventually go back to the room. Neither of you say much for the first hour. After you raged war on Sukuna’s mind for an entire month, he seemed more than fine with laying down in silence, mindlessly tracing your back while you laid your head on his chest.
You talk a little bit about what you’ve been up to, mainly complaints, but he still listened, figuring it was fair since you listened to him earlier. And then it naturally led to the conversation that you should’ve had last month.
“Are you staying?” you're not very shy when you ask, it sounded like you were expecting a yes from him.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” he says, having to hold back a laugh from the look you shot at him for making a joke at the wrong time. You clearly wanted reassurance, which is hilarious given how you're already clinging to him like a koala, but he gives you some more anyways. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You smile at him and he thinks that’s the end of the questions. He was wrong, but they were good ones.
“I still think this is kind of weird though— being with you and all,” you say, not sounding too concerned at the point. It's more just casual talk for now. “Are you just gonna watch me get old?”
“If you want,” he responds, not too concerned either. “You don’t have to grow old though, there’s rituals for that.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“What kind of rituals?” You sit up and rest your chin on your palm, curious to learn more.
“Messy ones,” he grins, wondering if he should even go into detail just yet with how gory some of them are. “Can’t remember any exact ones right now, but there’s always some blood and broken bones involved.”
You point at yourself, “my blood and broken bones?”
“Maybe,” he says casually, running his finger across your jaw. “I doubt you’d have to though, you’ll probably turn into one over time.”
“Wait, so… no gory ritual?”
“No gore,” he lazily says, his mood changes fast from just thinking about it. “This one’s fun. Easy too.”
“Yeah right.” You stifle a laugh, already getting what he means by that— though you still don’t think it’s as easy as he makes it out to be. “Everybody would’ve done it by now it was.”
“It’s the slowest way since you gotta do it a bunch of times, but I swear it’s easy. Especially for you,” he casually says, despite the air starting to thicken between you.
He’s the one who’s doing it.
Your heart starts to pick up, getting louder by the second. You feel his hand sliding down your back until it’s on your ass, then pulls you up closer to him, all while the familiar feeling of heat starts to surge through your veins.
“Let me show you.”
It takes him a few minutes to turn you into a whining mess.
He manipulates the air and floods your senses, bringing you back to that same feverish state you were in over a month ago. It’s just as unbearable as last time, almost making you question why this is something you agreed to.
Then he starts to fill the room with the obscene sounds of him fucking you.
“Look at you— makin’ a mess already.” He’s got your back pressed against his chest, holding you in place as he pounded into you. He’s right next to your ear, being as filthy as ever, as if he didn’t already have you reeling from the way he kept hitting your sweet spot every time he drove his hips forward.
“Feels good, huh?” he taunts you, you can feel him smiling against the shell of your ear. “Told you this was fun”
“So fucking good,” you whine, clinging on to the arm that’s keeping you up while taking every inch he gives you. Your skin’s burning hot, there’s chills running through your body, slick running down your thighs. The stretch is insane, and his cock just slides in and out of you like it’s nothing.
Sukuna nudges your legs further apart so he can fuck deeper into you, soothing that ache you feel in your core. There’s a wet schlik every time he draws his hips back and each thrust grows louder, messier. Your moans start to pick up and he lets out a low, breathy laugh. “Is that where you want me, princess? That makin’ you feel better?”
“Yeah, need you right there.” You’re as desperate as you sound. Everything’s so intense, yet you can never reach full relief, he just keeps you right at the edge of it.
And he loves it, how fucked out and helpless you are, how the only thing you want right now is his cock stuffed inside of you.
He’s still drilling into you when you feel a hand start to snake down your belly. Your breath hitches as it gets lower and lower, until the pads of his fingers find your clit, making you fucking lose it when he starts rubbing.
He lets out a low groan when you start squeezing around him. “Fuck, that’s it, let me hear you scream for me.”
And you do, overwhelmed by the pressure that starts to build up— fast. Your legs tremble and vision starts to blur, nearly going limp from the way he begins to work the orgasm out of you. He’s still in your ear, talking you through it in that rough voice of his. “Can feel how how fuckin’ close you are. Go ahead— let go and cum for me.”
It only takes a few more thrusts for it to hit you so hard that it rips a cry out of you. You start gushing around him, and he continues to ride you through it while his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier, just hammering through your walls as he chases his own release. Guttural groans leaving his lips as he starts filling you up with so much cum that it starts to spill out.
Everything goes quiet after. You’re still trembling, struggling to catch your breath as you slowly start to come back to reality. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel Sukuna lean back and slowly pull out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a satisfied look on his face.
“You’ll be just like me in no time.”
notes: i know nothing about incubus' and just went off random stuff i found on google
･ ⟢ ⋮ synopsis . . . you go over to your best friend yuji’s house for dinner… only to find his older brother sukuna is home from college for the first time in a few years. taller, tattooed, pierced, and annoyingly unreadable, he looks nothing like the boy you grew up with—and he won’t stop staring at you like you’ve changed too.
tags .ᐟ 7.1k. reader & sukuna are both in college. nsfw. best friend's other brother. oral m & f. dry hump lol. unprotected sex. creampie. missionary. size kink. dirty talk. light dom. praise kink. teasing. arm pinning. post sex teasing. kinda possessive behavior? unedited per usual, cause we don't believe in that over here !!
you’ve been in their house since you were old enough to walk. same backyard. same childhood summers. same loud dinners where yuji talked with his mouth full and sukuna pretended he wasn’t listening even though he always was.
yuji was your best friend before you even understood what best friends were. sukuna was the older one—a few grades ahead, always taller, always heavier-footed, always lurking on the edges of things like he’d been born allergic to attention.
the three of you were tangled together in that inevitable, you-grew-up-next-door kind of way. not siblings, not cousins, not childhood sweethearts. just that messy, familiar constellation of people you simply belonged to.
and then sukuna left.
not dramatically. not with some sentimental goodbye. he just packed up after graduation and went off to college out of state—far, far away—leaving you and yuji to finish growing up without him.
you didn’t think about him much after that. or at least you told yourself you didn’t.
until today.
you walk into yuji’s house the same way you always do—kicking off your shoes, calling out that you brought notes for the class he skipped again—and then you freeze.
because someone else is standing at the end of the hallway.
sukuna's home.
and looking at you like the past few years didn’t exist at all—like he just stepped out for a minute instead of vanishing into adulthood and coming back built like a warning sign.
you freeze.
because he isn’t the same person who left. not even close.
he’s taller now—like he grew an extra inch or two just to spite you. broad shoulders filling out the doorway, chest built in the intimidating way that says hours in the gym, not a single selfie to prove it. his hoodie clings to his arms in a way it never used to, sleeves shoved up to reveal thick forearms covered in black ink that wasn’t there before. sharp lines trailing up his veins and disappearing beneath cotton.
and his face—god.
there’s a new weight to it. a grown-man kind of sharpness. jawline hard enough to cut your breath in half. cheekbones more defined. his mouth softer than it should be on someone who looks like this.
plus the metal.
an eyebrow piercing splits the dark line above his left eye—subtle, but impossible to ignore. a thin silver hoop sits snug on his bottom lip, glinting every time he shifts his expression. a couple more studs line his ear, climbing the curve of cartilage in a way that draws your eyes before you can stop yourself.
he went from “yuji’s older brother who never talks” to “the man you’d cross the street for, just to look at again.”
he doesn’t say hi. doesn’t smile.
he just tilts his head a fraction, eyes dragging over you in one slow pass that feels too intimate to be accidental—like he’s comparing you to old versions in his head and finding the differences one by one.
“you got taller,” he mutters, voice deeper now, rougher around the edges.
your pulse spikes. “no i didn’t,” you say too quickly, heat crawling up your throat.
his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, right behind the silver hoop in his lip, and the faint sound he makes could be a laugh or a warning. you can’t tell which.
he steps closer. slowly.
the hallway shrinks around him like the walls are trying to pull away first. he’s buffer now—thick chest, defined arms, long legs moving with that confidence he never had when he was younger. his presence alone makes the air feel heavier.
“sure you didn’t,” he says, voice dropping into something low enough to curl at the base of your spine. “go on and lie to me.”
you swallow hard. “is... yuji inside?”
his eyes don’t leave yours—not even for a second. “kitchen. he’s been whining that you’re late.”
you try to step past him, but sukuna doesn’t move.
not an inch.
he stands there like a wall you’re meant to run into. like he’s doing it on purpose. like he wants to feel you brush against him, just to see what you’d do.
he’s always been like this—annoyingly still, annoyingly composed, annoyingly aware of how much space he takes up.
but now?
he’s all that, plus the tattoos, plus the muscle, plus the piercings, plus the kind of grown-man weight that makes your breath hitch.
you barely manage to slip past sukuna—your shoulder brushing his chest as you squeeze through the hallway. he doesn’t move, doesn’t step aside, doesn’t even pretend to give you space. he just watches you go, silent and heavy-eyed, like he’s cataloguing the way your breath stutters when you pass him.
you pretend you don’t notice. you pretend a lot of things. you step into the kitchen with a too-bright smile, dropping your bag onto the counter.
“ok,” you exhale, forcing lightness into your voice, “lecture notes time.”
yuji lights up like you just handed him free money. “finally! dude, this professor hates me, i swear.”
you snort. “he doesn’t hate you, he just knows you don’t shut up in class.”
yuji splutters, offended, and launches into a rant about how the classroom was “way too quiet” without him and how he’s basically “providing a public service.” you roll your eyes. you’ve missed this.
you spread out your notebooks on the table, walking him through everything he missed—slides, examples, the weird tangent your professor went on about life choices and statistics. yuji listens, nodding furiously, asking questions in the loudest voice anyone has ever used in a kitchen.
it’s normal. comfortable. easy.
but your head?
not easy. not comfortable.
because you can’t stop thinking about the man standing in the hallway.
the way sukuna looked at you like he was trying to match this version of you to the one he left behind.
the way he took up the entire hallway without trying. the way the metal in his lip caught the light. the tattoos. the build. the voice.
you try focusing on the material. you really do.
but yuji is halfway through copying something when you completely lose your train of thought, brain short-circuiting at the memory of sukuna stepping closer, the hallway shrinking around him, his arm brushing yours.
“uh… hello?” yuji waves a hand in front of your face. “earth to braincell.”
you blink. “sorry, i—just tired.”
“you should be! bro, you’ve been explaining this for like an hour.” yuji glances at the clock. “holy crap, it’s actually been an hour.”
you laugh, rubbing your eyes. it has gotten later than you thought. the sun’s gone down, the kitchen’s dimmer, warmer. the house feels too quiet.
yuji scratches his cheek and looks sheepish. “hey… uh… you wanna stay for dinner? i was gonna make something anyway, and it’s already late.”
stay.
the word sinks in. you open your mouth out of habit to decline—because you always do, because you have homework, because you’re busy—but you don’t say no.
because you know who else is here. who else you’ll end up near. who else is still lingering somewhere in this house with a pierced lip and a stare that won’t get out of your head.
you nod, biting back a smile as he rummages through the fridge.
you tell yourself it’s just dinner. just catching up. just a normal night. but your pulse tells a different story.
you don’t know what game sukuna’s playing now that he’s home…
…but you’re pretty sure he expects you to play it too.
yuji is humming to himself as he cooks—off-key, loud, cheerful in the way only he can be. pans clatter, spices get overused, something sizzles a little too aggressively, but it’s comforting.
you sit at the kitchen table, chin resting on your hand, pretending to scroll your phone. pretending to be normal.
but your ears are tuned to the hallway.
and when you hear slow, heavy footsteps approaching, your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it.
you don’t need to look to know who it is.
sukuna enters the kitchen like he owns the space—tall, broad, tattooed arms visible where he shoved his sleeves up again. his lip ring catches the warm kitchen light as he presses his tongue against it, like he’s distracting himself from saying something.
or from staring.
he doesn’t say anything right away. he just pulls out a chair. right across from you, of course.
your heartbeat jumps. you’re grateful yuji is too busy murdering whatever’s in the frying pan to notice anything weird.
sukuna sits slowly, legs spread under the table like he’s claiming territory. his posture is relaxed—leaned back, arms loose—but his eyes?
fixed on you.
not soft nor nostalgic—but assessing and curious in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your arms.
you try to look away first. you don’t succeed.
he breaks the silence with a low, too-casual, “he’s really makin’ you do his classwork for him?”
you blink. “i’m not—i’m just helping him catch up.”
he hums under his breath, that amusement back in his voice, coating every syllable in something mocking. “helpin’ him, huh. you always were too nice.”
“am not,” you mutter.
“yeah,” he says, leaning forward just a little. “you are.”
your stomach flips in a way you refuse to acknowledge.
before you can snap back, yuji turns around with triumph in his eyes and a plate in each hand.
“dinner is SERVED,” he declares proudly.
you and sukuna both watch the plate hit the table with a little too much force.
“you didn’t burn anything this time,” sukuna notes.
“shut up, bro,” yuji grins.
bro.
right. they’re brothers. the kind with the same house and the same history but completely different worlds carved out inside them.
yuji sits beside you—your usual seating arrangement—leaving sukuna directly across from you.
it’s torture.
you try to focus on dinner, but the food tastes like nothing. you’re too aware of the man in front of you. of the way his hand dwarfs his fork. of the tattoos that crawl up his veins, ink meeting sinew. of the metal on his face catching light every time he shifts. of the quiet way he eats—unlike yuji, who practically inhales his food.
at some point, sukuna leans back, eyes still on you, elbow resting on the back of his chair. he doesn’t speak. doesn’t interrupt yuji’s excited retelling of a stupid class story.
he just watches you. until you squirm.
you hate that he sees it. you drop your gaze to your plate.
but then, under the table—something brushes your ankle. you jolt subtly, knee bumping the underside of the table.
yuji doesn’t notice, but sukuna smiles. a slow smile that feels like it’s meant to unravel you one string at a time.
he doesn’t pull away.
his foot stays there—resting against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you try to move your foot back. he follows. pressing gently.
your breath stutters. your fork pauses mid-air.
“you okay?” yuji asks through a mouthful of food.
“fine,” you choke.
sukuna’s eyes drop to your throat, watching it move as you swallow. then he tilts his head and mouths something silently—so only you can see it.
don’t run.
your heart slams. you force yourself to finish your meal, though you don’t taste a damn thing.
yuji finally exhales loudly, rubbing his stomach. “okay, i’m gonna grab the drinks—don’t eat my dessert while i’m gone.”
he gets up and disappears into the fridge.
the moment he’s out of earshot, the tension in the room snaps tight.
sukuna leans forward just slightly, voice low enough that it feels like a touch on your skin.
“you’re real bad at hiding shit,” he murmurs.
you grip your fork. “hiding what?”
he raises a brow. “the way you’ve been lookin’ at me since you walked in.”
your breath falters.
he smiles. “didn’t look at me like that when i left.”
you want to deny it. you want to throw something at him. you want to run.
instead, all you manage is a tiny, pathetic, “…shut up.”
his eyes soften for half a second—amusement, victory, something else you can’t name—and then he drags his foot lightly up your calf under the table.
your pulse jumps.
yuji returns a moment later, completely oblivious, carrying three drinks like he’s hosting a banquet.
“okay! i got—hey, why are you two so quiet?”
you choke. “no reason.”
sukuna doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.
yuji doesn’t even make it to dessert.
one minute he’s talking through a mouthful of food, and the next he’s curled sideways on the couch in the living room, face pressed into a pillow, snoring softly like someone unplugged him mid-sentence.
you stare at him for a second and sigh. “…he lasted longer than usual.”
from behind you, sukuna’s voice is low and way too entertained.
“don’t give him that much credit.”
you ignore the way your stomach flutters and start clearing the plates, stacking yours on top of yuji’s, gathering forks, pushing crumbs into your palm. it feels safer to have your hands busy—something to do besides think about sukuna or how his eyes followed you all dinner.
the kitchen is dimmer now, warm under the stove light. quiet except for the clink of dishes. yuji’s muffled snoring drifts in from the living room. the air feels thick, heavy with end-of-night softness.
you bend over to load the dishwasher, reaching for a plate on the bottom rack…
…and that’s when you hear them.
slow footsteps behind you.
you feel him before he speaks—heat at your back, the faint brush of air as he exhales, the subtle shift of the room around someone as big as him.
“you really doing the dishes?” he says, voice low enough to curl behind your ear. “yuji’s not even awake to witness it.”
you roll your eyes at the plate in your hand. “i’m being nice.”
“you always were.”
your stomach dips.
you reach farther into the dishwasher, bending a little more, muttering, “it’s fine, i don’t mind—”
that’s when it happens.
you feel it—a slow nudge at your backside. a hip bump. not subtle. nowhere near being accidental. you gasp and straighten halfway before you even think about it.
“the fuck—?”
you turn, and sukuna is standing right behind you, way too close, one eyebrow piercing lifting as he drags his hips back a couple inches…
only to roll them forward again—slow, exaggerated, mocking in the rudest possible way.
a fucking air-hump. right into your ass.
you choke on your own breath. “what—what are you doing?” you hiss, eyes wide, hands still gripping a fork like you’re about to duel him with it.
“correcting your form,” he says casually, gesturing at the dishwasher. “you’re bendin’ like you want attention.”
“i was not bending like that,” you whisper harshly.
he steps forward half an inch—just enough to feel the heat of him against your back.
“you kinda were,” he murmurs.
your pulse hits dangerous levels.
you turn to shove him away—at least that’s the plan—but he catches your wrist, grip firm but not tight, eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before flicking back up like he didn’t mean to.
“relax,” he says, voice dropping into something warm, amused, and infuriatingly soft. “if i wanted to actually fuck with you, sweetheart… you’d know.”
your knees nearly give out. you pretend they don’t.
you rip your hand back. “yuji’s in the next room.”
sukuna lifts a brow. “and?”
you glare. “so don’t be an asshole.”
“can’t help it.” he leans closer, voice brushing your neck. “you bring it outta me.”
you swallow hard, turning back to the dishwasher because looking at him is dangerous.
he watches you for a moment with a silent, heavy gaze, dragging across your back as you finish stacking plates.
then you feel his breath near your ear again. “finish up,” he murmurs, something darker slipping into his tone. “i’m not done with you.”
you grip the dishwasher door until your knuckles ache. and yuji keeps snoring, completely unaware that his older brother is behind you, smirking like he knows exactly how fast your heart is pounding.
you wipe your hands on the dish towel, fingers still slightly trembling from whatever the hell that “airhump” was supposed to be. you tell yourself it was stupid, meaningless, not worth thinking about—and then your stomach twists, proving you wrong immediately.
yuji is passed out on the couch, one arm over his face, snores muffled by the pillow he stole from your house. his soft breathing fills the otherwise quiet house, the kind of nighttime silence that makes everything else feel louder. heavier.
you sling your bag over your shoulder, take a steadying breath, and tell yourself you’re fine. you survived dinner. you survived sukuna staring at you like he was trying to decide whether to devour you or laugh at you. you can survive saying a polite goodnight.
you move down the hallway, footsteps soft on the carpet. you pass the bathroom, the closet, the familiar creak in the floorboard near yuji’s door, and then—you reach sukuna’s room.
you only mean to look in. just a glance. just a “later” or a “bye.”
you don’t even get that far.
a hand wraps around your wrist and yanks—not painfully, but efficiently, like he’s practiced the motion a thousand times. you stumble forward, and before you can catch your balance, he pulls you into his room and shuts the door with a quiet, final click.
your back hits the wall. not hard. just enough that you gasp, the shock traveling all the way to your knees. when you blink up, sukuna is standing inches from you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still loosely around your wrist as if waiting to see if you’ll run.
his room smells like soap and darker elements—cedar, smoke, warm skin. it hits you all at once, settling under your ribs, making it far too hard to breathe normally.
“you were really gonna leave without saying anything to me?” he asks, voice almost amused.
“i—i didn’t wanna wake yuji,” you manage, even though you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you can’t look him in the eyes without feeling too much.
“that so?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly. “’cause you walked past my door real fast. almost like you were trying to escape.”
you try to step to the side, but he shifts with you, blocking the one direction you might’ve slipped away. his body doesn’t press into you, but it hangs close enough that you feel the heat of him, the quiet intensity that wasn’t there when he was younger. everything about him feels deliberate now. intentional.
“i wasn’t escaping,” you say softly. “i was leaving.”
“mm.” he tilts his head just a little, eyes dragging over your face. “and here i thought you’d at least say bye before running.”
“i wasn’t runni—”
“you were.” the faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he adds, “you still do that.”
you swallow hard. “do what?”
sukuna’s gaze slides from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. “get shy.”
the breath you take isn’t steady. not even close. he notices—of course he notices—and his fingers release your wrist only to settle at your waist instead, warm and sending a rush of awareness straight through your core.
“i’m not shy,” you whisper, even though your whole body betrays you.
his smile grows—not cocky, but like he just solved some puzzle that only he was working on. “yeah,” he says, voice dropping, lips brushing the edge of your cheekbone as he speaks, “you are.”
his hand slides up your hip, light but purposeful, guiding you just the slightest bit closer until his chest nearly touches yours. only an inch of air separates your bodies, and it’s unbearable.
“you didn’t look at me like that when i left,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your jaw.
“like what?” it comes out barely audible.
“like you want me to kiss you.”
your stomach drops. your face heats. your throat tightens with something impossible to name. you almost deny it—you should deny it—but the words won’t come.
and something in your silence tells him everything.
sukuna’s thumb traces the line of your jaw, slow enough to make your breath catch. “say it,” he whispers.
you shake your head. your heart is pounding too fast to speak.
“didn’t think so,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “good thing i don’t need you to.”
before you can react, he closes the distance—letting you feel every second of it. his mouth brushes yours once, soft, testing. your breath rises sharply. he waits, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away.
you don’t.
your fingers curl into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer without thinking, and that’s all it takes. sukuna kisses you fully then—deep, warm, devastatingly slow. the kind of kiss that feels like it’s been many years overdue. the kind that steals your breath so quietly you don’t notice until you’re gasping into him.
he hums against your mouth, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, tipping your head the way he wants, his lips moving against yours with ease that makes your knees weak.
when he finally breaks the kiss, he stays close, forehead brushing yours, breaths mingling. “there you go,” he murmurs, voice roughened by restraint. “finally got you to stop pretending.”
your eyes flutter open.
his are already on you, hungry for the next bite.
“you should’ve said goodbye earlier,” he adds softly. “i wouldn’t have let you leave.”
the first kiss is nothing compared to the second.
the moment he hears your breath hitch right against his mouth—sukuna cups the side of your neck, fingers sliding under your jaw, and pulls you back into him. no hesitation this time. no testing. he kisses you like he’s been denying himself the thought of it for years and finally gave in.
your back presses harder into the wall as his mouth moves against yours—slow at first, savoring, learning every tiny sound you make. his lips part just enough to taste you, and when your tongue brushes his, something low and electric shoots through both of you.
he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. you feel it more than hear it.
his free hand slides to your waist, then your hip, then down to the curve of your thigh, gripping just enough to pull you up into his kiss. your hands rise on instinct, fists curling in the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him like you’re afraid you’ll fall.
you don’t even realize you’re trembling until he notices.
“easy,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low, impossibly gentle for someone who looks like him. “breathe.”
you try. you fail.
and he clearly likes it.
he catches your wrists when you try to pull him closer, fingers wrapping around both, guiding your hands up over your head and pressing them into the wall above you. the movement is slow, controlled, the kind you could fight if you wanted to… but you don’t.
you let him pin you there, wrists held in one of his hands, bodies flush, heat rolling between you in waves.
“that’s better,” he whispers, lips brushing your cheekbone as he drags a kiss down to your jaw. “keep ’em there.”
your breath stutters again, a soft, pathetic little exhale you can’t swallow down fast enough. he hears it. he smiles against your skin.
“knew you’d be like this,” he whispers. “knew it.”
he kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—then dips lower, to the side of your neck. his lips are warm at first, barely pressure, barely there… and then he sucks.
your knees threaten to buckle. he feels it, and pushes his thigh between yours—not hard, just enough to keep you standing, enough to drag a shaky breath out of you.
“still shy?” he asks against your throat.
you shake your head, even though you definitely are.
he laughs quietly, the sound rumbling into your skin, before kissing lower—along the line of your neck, down your shoulder, back up again like he’s mapping you with his mouth.
your hands flex uselessly against the wall, wrists pinned in his grip. you can’t touch him. can’t pull him closer. can’t do anything except feel him.
and he takes full advantage.
he kisses up the column of your neck, slow and unhurried, until he reaches your ear.
his breath is warm when he speaks. “come here.”
he lets go of your wrists only so he can slip his hands around your waist and lift you—not fully off the ground, just enough that your balance shatters. he turns you easily, guiding you away from the wall and toward the bed behind him.
your back hits the mattress before you fully process the movement. sukuna stands over you for a moment, chest rising and falling, eyes dark, pupils blown.
you’ve never seen him look at anything the way he’s looking at you now. he leans down, bracing one knee on the bed, caging you in with his body.
“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek before kissing you again—deeper this time, slower. “the way you looked at me… the way you kept pretending you weren’t.”
your fingers finally find his hoodie, grabbing it, pulling him down until he’s almost on top of you.
his hand slides up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, leaving heat everywhere he touches.
your breath is shaky, your heart out of control.
“just say it,” he whispers against your mouth. “say you want me.”
you don’t say it, but you kiss him like you do. and he takes that as an answer.
his hoodie comes off first.
you don’t even realize you’re tugging at it until he shifts, helping you peel it up over his head, revealing a solid, cut chest inked in black—tattoos wrapping his torso like armor, crawling up his sides and disappearing into the shadows of his collarbone.
he looks unreal in the low light, all sharp lines and sculpted heat, muscle flexing as he braces his hands on either side of you.
your eyes trail down without permission. the slope of his chest, the flex in his abs when he exhales, the deep cut of his hips narrowing into the waistband of his sweats. his lip glints when he smiles—barely there, cocky, knowing.
“that look better than you imagined?”
your breath catches. “shut up.”
his smile widens. “you didn’t say no.”
he leans down again—kisses you slow. your hands map over his chest now, feeling the warmth of him, the weight, the way he moves under your palms. he groans low when your nails scrape lightly across his abs.
“you tryna kill me, sweetheart?”
you grin against his mouth. “maybe.”
he chuckles. he kisses you again, this time harder, his tongue sliding against yours until you’re gasping. then his mouth moves down—neck, collarbone, sternum—lips dragging over skin like he’s starving for every inch.
his hands find the hem of your shirt. “this comes off,” he says, already tugging it up.
you arch slightly to help him. the shirt lands somewhere behind you. his eyes rake over your chest, and you swear he breathes deeper just looking at you.
“fuck,” he murmurs, mouth already lowering. “i missed a lot.”
he wraps his lips around the swell of your breast, tongue flicking once before he sucks. you jolt, hips twitching, a gasp spilling out of you before you can stop it. his teeth graze, soft but suggestive, before he switches sides—mouth worshiping, hands roaming your waist and hips like he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone.
“kuna—” your voice cracks. “s-stop teasing.”
he laughs against your skin. “thought you were shy.”
you shove at his shoulder. “not that shy.”
his eyes flash. “good.”
his hand slips down—under your waistband, fingers pressing between your thighs through your underwear. his touch is warm, rough, perfect.
you jolt. “oh my—”
“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours again as he starts to rub slow circles over the damp fabric. “been wondering how you’d sound.”
your fingers dig into his arm, your hips lifting instinctively, chasing the rhythm of his hand. he watches you—fascinated, like he’s trying to sear the image into memory.
he drags the fabric aside and sinks a finger in. your mouth drops open, a soft, choked sound escaping. he groans low in his chest, eyes darkening.
“fuck, you’re soaked.”
you can’t answer. can’t think. can barely breathe.
he pumps his finger slow, then adds another—stretching you just enough to burn, just enough to make you whimper and clutch the sheets.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “take it. knew you could.”
your hips stutter. he curls his fingers, and your whole body lights up.
“kuna—please—”
“what do you want, baby?” his mouth is at your ear again, tongue flicking the shell before he nips at it. “want me to keep playing with you? want more?”
you nod frantically. “yes—yes, more, i want—”
“say it.”
you whine, breathless. “i want you.”
he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, eyes locked on yours. “good girl.”
he shifts lower like he’s been waiting all night to get between your thighs.
your breath catches when he drags your pants down alongside your underwear, slow enough to make you feel every inch of the fabric leaving your skin. he tosses them somewhere behind him without looking—eyes locked, laser-focused, hungry in a way that makes your whole body throb.
he spreads your knees with two fingers hooked behind them, guiding you open until you feel exposed in a way that isn’t embarrassing—just intimate. like he’s letting you know he wants all of you, every inch, every tremble, every breath.
“look at you,” he whispers, voice dark with awe that he’d never say out loud. “fuck.”
his thumb drags up your inner thigh, slow, reverent, as if he’s got all the time in the world and he’s choosing to spend every second right here.
you feel the heat of his breath first—right where you want him—before you feel his mouth.
he kisses the inside of your thigh, once, twice, lips warm, breath shaky like he’s the one barely holding it together. his fingers press into your skin like he’s steadying himself.
“been thinking about this,” he murmurs, kissing closer, “since dinner.”
your toes curl. “k-kuna…”
“shh.” he smiles against your skin. “i’m getting there.”
he moves in slowly, purposefully, hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. the motion is smooth, easy—he’s strong enough that he barely has to try. your breath skips.
his thumbs spread you open. his eyes drop.
he groans. audibly. “fuck… you’re perfect.”
and then he lowers his head.
his tongue slides through your folds in a slow, deliberate lick that makes your whole body jolt off the bed. your hand flies to his hair without permission, fingers threading through the soft strands as you gasp.
he groans again, deeper this time, like the taste of you just punched the air out of his lungs.
“shit, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, voice muffled. “no wonder you were actin’ shy.”
he licks again—long, slow, savoring every inch—and you swear your vision fades at the edges.
you’re shaking. your thighs tense around his head instinctively, but he just smirks against you and presses them wider.
“keep ‘em open,” he murmurs, tongue dipping lower. “lemme eat.”
and then—then he really gets into it.
his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking gently, tongue flicking in a rhythm that feels too good too fast—your back arches, hands flying to the sheets.
“kuna—fuck—”
he moans like your voice is feeding him. the vibration makes your hips jerk.
he slides two fingers back inside you at the same time his tongue circles your clit—slow, curling right against that spot that makes your stomach twist.
your gasp turns into a broken whine.
“yeah,” he grunts softly, pumping his fingers deeper, “right there, huh? that’s where you start shaking?”
you whimper. that’s all it takes. he chuckles into you—a hot, smug, god of a sound—and curls his fingers harder.
your thighs tremble. “i’m—i’m gonna—”
“good,” he growls, dragging his tongue up before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “give it to me.”
your hand clamps around his hair. your whole body goes tight, and then you break.
your orgasm crashes through you so violently you cry out, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head. sukuna doesn’t pull away. he holds you there, mouth working you through every wave, swallowing every sound you make.
“that’s it,” he whispers when you finally slump back, breathless, shaky. “good fuckin’ girl.”
you’re panting, still trembling as he kisses the inside of your thigh again, slow and soft now, letting you come down.
but he doesn’t move away. he crawls up your body, mouth warm, breath hot, chest brushing yours as he hovers above you.
he grabs your jaw gently, thumb rubbing your lower lip as he leans in, lips ghosting yours but not kissing yet.
“think you’re done?” he murmurs.
you stare at him, flushed, breath shallow. “i—i don’t know—”
his mouth curls into a slow grin. “you’re nowhere fuckin’ close.”
he kisses you finally—letting you taste yourself on his tongue, letting you feel exactly what he plans to do to you next. his hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it up around his hip.
you feel him—hard and heavy against you through his sweats. your skin burns with it. he doesn’t even have to move and you’re already clenching around nothing.
“‘m not stopping,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low enough to vibrate in your chest. “til you beg.”
he catches your stare, eyes narrowing slightly like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. then he shifts back onto his heels and leans against the wall beside the bed, thighs spread wide, hand dragging down the front of his sweats.
your breath catches. he palms himself slow, watching you.
“c’mere,” he says, nodding down. “if you’re gonna be a brat about it, least you can do is put that mouth to use.”
your stomach flips.
you slide down to the floor, onto your knees between his legs, palms resting on his thighs. he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide, jaw tense like he’s holding himself back from saying something filthy.
you hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats and pull them down just enough to free him.
your mouth parts.
he’s thick. flushed and heavy at the tip, veins trailing up the length, a glisten of precum already beading at the head. He wraps a hand around the base and gives it one lazy stroke before tapping it against your lips.
“open up.”
you do. immediately.
you wrap your lips around the tip and suck—slow, dragging your tongue over the underside. his groan is immediate,.
“fuck, that’s it,” he grits. “take it slow—lemme feel that tongue.”
you do.
you move down, inch by inch, working him deeper. spit pools at the corner of your mouth, his cock stretching your lips, pressing hot against your tongue. your hand wraps around what you can’t fit, stroking in time with your mouth.
his hand slides into your hair, not forcing—just holding, thumb brushing your cheekbone every time you take him a little deeper.
“you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters, voice ragged. “mouth full of cock, eyes all glassy—shit.”
you moan around him, and he bucks, hips twitching.
“you like that, huh?” he pants. “like suckin’ me while your pussy’s still throbbing from bein’ teased?”
you nod, tongue flicking over the tip when you come up for air. your lips are swollen, your chin wet, your breath shallow.
he grunts, tightening his fist in your hair. “shit—gonna cum if you keep that up—” and then he pulls you off, panting.
you blink, confused, lips parted.
“no,” he rasps. “not yet.”
he drags you up by your arms, effortlessly. his mouth already finding yours again as he pushes you back onto the bed. his cock, still slick with your spit, presses against your inner thigh.
“wanna cum inside you,” he murmurs between kisses, “wanna watch your face when i do.”
your breath stutters.
he parts your thighs with both hands, wide and greedy, and settles between them, cock dragging over your entrance—just once, just enough to make you gasp.
then he pushes in. stretching you open inch by inch until he bottoms out, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged in your ear.
your back arches off the bed. your nails dig into his biceps. he’s so deep.
“fuck,” he groans. “this pussy—always meant to be mine.”
you gasp, hands scrambling to hold him closer.
his hand catches your jaw, tilting your head just slightly so he can see every shift in your expression.
“eyes on me,” he whispers. “wanna see you fall apart.”
and then he starts to move. his hips roll into yours with control that makes your toes curl—his cock dragging against every spot inside you, his mouth brushing yours every time he thrusts in.
“look at you,” he pants, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your mouth. “already fucked out and i haven’t even gotten started.”
you whimper, thighs shaking around his hips. “kuna—”
he hushes you with a kiss, and keeps fucking you through it, one hand curling around your waist, the other tangling in your hair.
“wanna see you cum like this,” he breathes. “right here, lookin’ at me. fallin’ apart on my cock.”
you’re already close. he knows.
his hips drag back just enough to make you whimper, then roll forward again, deep and heavy, grinding the base of his cock against your clit each time.
“you feel that?” he murmurs against your mouth. “feel how deep i am?”
you can’t answer. your eyes flutter. your thighs twitch. your breath keeps catching somewhere between your ribs and your throat.
he dips his head lower—kisses along your jaw, down your neck, tongue dragging lazily over your pulse.
“don’t go quiet now,” he growls. “wasn’t so shy with my cock in your mouth.”
your cheeks flush hotter. your hips buck up instinctively, chasing friction. he groans at the way you clench around him, hips stuttering.
“goddamn,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you. “you’re gonna cum just from this, huh? from me fuckin’ you slow and talkin’ to you?”
you nod, frantic, desperate, gasping when he changes the angle just slightly—grinding deeper, bottoming out again, your walls fluttering around him.
his hand slides down your side, firm and possessive. he grabs your thigh and pushes it up, folding you open even more, cock slipping in deeper than before.
your moan breaks right against his mouth.
“there,” he says—almost to himself. “that’s it. that’s where you like it.”
your hands clutch at his back, fingers sliding over warm skin, over shifting muscle, nails digging in when he thrusts just right again.
you feel it building. it coils low and hot, right behind your navel, pulsing with every drag of his cock, every filthy sound he makes in your ear.
he sees it too. his eyes lock on yours, dark and full of something you’ve never seen from him before—raw.
“close?” he asks, breathless.
you nod. “kuna—please—don’t stop—”
his forehead presses to yours, and he fucks you harder—still deep, but less controlled now, pace picking up.
“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants. “cum on my cock like a good girl?”
you nod again—choked, messy, right on the edge.
“look at me,” he growls. “when you cum, look at me.”
you do. and when he slams in one last time, angle perfect, pressure perfect—your whole body locks up.
the orgasm hits hard. your mouth falls open, breath shattering, eyes wide and glassy as you squeeze around him, wet and pulsing and uncontrollable.
“fuck—fuck,” he groans, losing rhythm. “that’s it—fuckin’ perfect—look at you—”
you cry out again, grabbing at him, trying to breathe, trying to stay conscious. he doesn’t stop moving—not until he’s right there with you.
“gonna cum inside you,” he mutters against your mouth. “want you full, dripping—”
you whimper, too far gone to answer. he thrusts once, twice—then buries himself deep and groans, low and animal, as he spills inside you.
he stays there, deep and still—chest heaving, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. your hands trail up his back, shaky and slow, fingertips ghosting over the ink there.
you’re both silent for a moment. just breathing. just existing. and then— “you really weren’t gonna say hi to me?” he whispers, nose brushing yours.
you blink up at him, lips swollen, voice nearly gone. “you didn’t say hi either.”
his mouth twitches. he kisses you again—softer now, longer. like he wants to keep tasting what he missed.
then he pulls out slowly, careful—and groans at the mess you’ve both made. his cum spills out of you, sticky and warm against your thighs.
he watches it. a little too long.
you shift beneath him, flushed and spent, and mumble, “you’re being weird.”
he doesn’t even look up. “you’re leaking. my work here is done.”
you slap his chest. weakly. “stop staring.”
“stop leaking.”
“kuna.”
he finally lifts his head, grinning—messy hair, flushed cheeks, smug as all hell. “don’t look at me like it’s my fault you can’t hold it in.”
you gape at him, mouth falling open. “i just got rearranged like damn ikea furniture—maybe give me five minutes?”
he laughs, head dropping to your shoulder. “you’re so dramatic,” he murmurs into your neck. “you loved it.”
you try to smack him again, but your arm flops back down instead. “shut up. i’m sore.”
“you’re gonna be more sore tomorrow.” he sounds pleased about it.
you groan, tossing your head back into the pillow. “you’re the worst.”
he hums. “mm. you came so hard you forgot your name. i think i’m the best.”
you glance down at him, raising a brow. “i did not forget my name.”
“you whimpered,” he says, kissing your collarbone. “like five times.”
“not the same thing.”
he snorts. “sounded like you were glitching.”
“i hate you.”
“you sucked my soul out through my dick twenty minutes ago.”
“okay first of all—”
“it was an honor,” he says, hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. “salute.”
you burst into laughter, and so does he.
he collapses beside you, both of you a mess—sweaty, flushed, glowing in the aftershocks and still tangled in the sheets. the room smells like sex and sweat.
his hand finds yours between the blankets.
you go quiet for a moment. breathing. existing. then—
“…so do we tell yuji or just make it weird forever?”
he groans and throws a pillow over his face. “my god, just kill me now.”
