Your hand curls around what should have been Sukuna's arm but instead flexes against air, eyes still closed, you pat around the bed feeling absolutely no one.
The other side of the bed is cold.
Not empty-cold, not abandoned-cold. Just cold enough to tell you he’s been gone for a while.
For a moment you consider rolling over and going back to sleep.
Then you glance at the monitor.
The nursery light is on.
A small square of blue glow and a large shadow by the crib.
You push yourself out of bed.
The hardwood floor is cool beneath your feet.
Your body still aches in strange places. Recovery has been slower than you expected. Motherhood has been more beautiful and more terrifying than anyone managed to explain.
The nursery door is cracked open when you reach it.
You stop before stepping inside.
Sukuna is crouched beside the crib.
Not standing.
Not leaning.
Crouched.
As though getting any closer might somehow disturb the tiny sleeping boy in front of him.
The nightlight paints the room with deep hazy blue little white stars speckling the ceiling.
Your son’s fists are curled near his face. His chest rises and falls in tiny, steady breaths.
And Sukuna is staring at him.
Not with pride.
Not even with wonder.
With fear.
Real fear.
The kind you’ve almost never seen on him.
You don’t announce yourself right away, you just stay in the doorway watching with the kind of wonder people usually reserve for seeing an endangered species.
But the sight in front of you almost feels the same.
His forearms rest on his knees.
His head is slightly bowed.
For a long moment he says nothing.
Then quietly,
“You’re so small.”
His voice sounds rough.
Unused.
Like he hasn’t spoken in hours.
The baby sighs in his sleep.
Sukuna’s gaze follows every movement.
Every breath.
Every twitch.
As if he’s making sure he’s still there.
“I keep waiting for it.”
You frown.
Something twists in your chest.
“Waiting for what?”
The word leaves before you mean to speak.
His shoulders tense.
Not because he’s startled.
Because he’s been caught.
For a second he doesn’t look at you.
Doesn’t move.
Then he exhales.
“The other shoe.”
You step into the room.
Slowly.
The floor creaks beneath your feet.
“He looks like me.”
The confession is quiet.
You glance toward the crib.
Your son has his eyes.
The same sharp brows though faint.
The same shape to his mouth.
You know exactly what Sukuna sees when he looks at him.
Not a baby.
A reflection.
“I know.”
He laughs once.
There’s no humor in it.
“That’s the problem.”
The room falls silent.
You watch his jaw tighten.
Watch him stare at the sleeping child.
Watch a man who has never been afraid of much suddenly look terrified of something he can’t fight.
“What if he gets the worst of me?”
The question hangs there heavy and wrong.
“I know what I was like.”
His eyes never leave the crib.
“What I am.”
You hate hearing him talk like that.
Not because it’s untrue.
Not because it’s true.
Because you know exactly how long he’s carried it.
The list of things he regrets.
The parts of himself he’s spent years trying to outrun.
“What if he’s angry like me?”
His voice is barely above a whisper now.
“What if he’s cruel?”
“What if I teach him something wrong without realizing it?”
Your throat tightens.
“What if one day he looks at someone the way I used to look at people?”
“What if he becomes the kind of man I wouldn’t have wanted around you?”
For a moment neither of you speak like maybe he’s out of what if’s.
The nursery hums softly around you.
The monitor light blinks.
Outside, the world keeps moving slowly starting to wake up.
But inside, everything narrows to the space between your husband and your sleeping son.
You move closer.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to smell the soap on his skin.
Then you squat down with him and rest your chin on his shoulder.
His body goes still.
Not because he doesn’t expect affection.
Because he doesn’t expect comfort.
Not when he’s talking about things he’d rather hide.
You look into the crib with him.
At your son.
At the tiny human who has no idea how fiercely he’s already loved.
“No.”
Sukuna doesn’t answer, but you feel him listening in the way his body slows his harsh breaths.
“No, he’s probably going to get the worst parts of both of us.”
That earns the smallest snort.
“He’s going to inherit my stubbornness,”
“My tendency to make terrible decisions,”
“Your inability to ask for help.”
His shoulder shifts slightly beneath your chin.
“And our combined talent for being difficult.”
That one almost makes him smile.
Almost.
The tension in the room eases by a fraction.
Just enough.
You slide your hand over his shoulder.
Lace your fingers together across his chest.
“But he’s also going to get the best parts.”
Sukuna is quiet.
“I don’t know if there are any.”
You squeeze his hand.
Hard.
“There are.”
His eyes close briefly.
You keep talking before he can argue.
“He’s going to be brave.”
You glance at the crib.
“He’s going to be loyal.”
Your voice softens.
“He’s going to love hard.”
And then, because it’s the thing Sukuna never sees when he looks at himself—
“He’s going to be protective.”
You feel him swallow.
“He’ll get that from you.”
For a long moment he says nothing.
The baby shifts in his sleep.
Makes a tiny noise.
Immediately Sukuna’s attention snaps back to him, instant, instinctive, protective over something as meaningless as a sound.
You watch it happen.
Watch the concern appear before he even realizes it.
And something inside you aches.
“There.”
You nod toward the crib.
Toward your son.
Toward the man crouched beside him.
“That’s what he’ll learn.”
Sukuna’s eyes stay fixed on the baby.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
You rest your chin against the top of his head.
“But I know you.”
Silence.
Then a whisper so quiet you almost miss it,
“I really don’t want to fail him.”
Your eyes sting.
Because for all his fear.
For all his flaws.
For all the ghosts he keeps expecting to find in himself—
Bad fathers don’t sit awake in the middle of the night worrying about becoming bad fathers.
Bad fathers don’t crouch beside cribs.
Bad fathers don’t spend hours staring at their sleeping sons, terrified of passing on their mistakes.
੭꣒ ˖ ❛ bf!suguru who loves to babytalk you while sex.
c.ws :: mdni , smut , daddy kink , babytalk , a lot of praise , spooning sex , size kink , overstimulation , creampies , body worship , dacryphilia.
“aww, my little princess… look at you, all needy and squirmy for me, huh?”
suguru’s voice is a warm, teasing murmur right against your ear as he spoons you from behind, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. his other hand gropes your soft breast gently at first, then firmer, kneading the flesh like dough while his thumb circles your nipple, making it pebble under his touch. you’re already so sensitive, every little pinch sending jolts straight to your core, where his thick cock is nestled snugly between your thighs, teasing your slick folds.
“s-sugu… please…” you whine, arching back into him, your hips wiggling desperately for more.
“shh, shh, babygirl,” he coos, nuzzling into your neck, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “daddy’s got you, okay? gonna make my sweet little thing feel so good. you’re so sensitive today, aren’t you? my sweet girl…”
he shifts slightly, guiding the fat head of his cock to your entrance, pushing in slow and steady, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep inside your fluttering walls. you gasp, trembling as he fills you completely, stretching you just right, his girth making your tummy clench with that delicious fullness.
“there we go… oh, look at that, princess. takin’ me so well… feels good, doesn’t it? yeah? tell daddy how good it feels.”
“m-move—! ngh!” your voice came out as a mewl, turning quickly into a content sight as soon as he starts to move, his hips rolling in lazy, deep thrusts that have him grinding against that sweet spot inside you. his hand slides down from your breast to grip your hip, digging his fingers in possessively while he spoons you tighter.
“fuck— you’re all creamy and wet already. listen to that—hear how squishy you are? that’s your pretty cunt talkin’, huh? beggin’ for more.”
he picked up the pace, thrusting harder now, the wet smack of his hips against your ass echoing in the room in an obscene squelch, but his touches remained oh-so-fucking-gentle—his lips brushing your ear, whispering sweet nothings, his free hand roaming to caress your thighs, your belly, anywhere he can spoil you with affection.
your body feels on fire, every drag of his cock making stars burst behind your eyes, your walls clenching around him so hard he almost hisses under his breath. it’s too much, too fucking intense. tears start to prick your lashes as the pleasure builds, your needy cries turning into sobs.
“you’re shakin’, baby… too much? no? want more? okay, okay, daddy’ll give you everything. gonna fuck my sweet princess nice and deep, fill you up with all my love.”
“mmph! suguru—! i’m… i’m so close, please!” your hips meet his in desperate attempts to get more of him, chasing a high that promises to leave you so deliciously fucked out.
“yeah, just like that… let go, angel. cum for daddy… that’s it, let go. cream all over me, show me how much you love it.” his voice is a loving croon, even as he pounds into you relentlessly, kneading your breast again, pinching just enough to push you over.
you shatter with a wail, your pussy creaming around his shaft, milking him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. suguru follows with a low groan, thrusting deep one last time before spilling inside, thick ropes of seed breeding your walls, leaking out around where you’re joined as he holds you still, spoiling you with kisses along your neck.
“there’s my good girl… so perfect, all filled up and happy. i love you so much, baby.” he stays wrapped around you, lazily grinding through the aftershocks, until you’re boneless and giggling in his arms, utterly loved.
piercer boyfriend touya who insists that he'll stay home while you go out with your friends and will stay up (despite your protests) for you to come home and help you get ready for bed.
he's expecting you to get home drunk. messy drunk. he's known you long enough to know that "just two drinks," is never. just. two. drinks.
he couldn't give less of a fuck about you sleeping in your makeup or wearing your outside clothes in bed, but trust that he will be cleaning those semi-healed piercings that he had done for you when you first started seeing each other.
tonight he's having trouble keeping you still.
"i wanna go to bed," you drunkenly mumble, squirming on the seat of the toilet and pulling away from his touch.
"not yet." touya responds, keeping your head steady with a gentle grip on your jaw, and with his other hand, dabbing a wound wash solution soaked q-tip across the shell of your ear.
your eyes trail down to where his hand makes contact with your face. you were an inch away from being able to bite down on the skin between his thumb and index finger and you knew it wouldn't be a proper night out if you didn't mildly annoy touya at least once.
"don't think about being a little shit right now," he breaks the silence.
you groan, "i still have to take off my makeup. just leave it, i'll clean them in the morning."
"who told you to get 3 piercings within a week?"
"stop it." you pout. "that was when i was blinded by love, i couldn't help it."
touya's focus turns to you, slightly tilting your head up to face him where you see a smirk grow on his lips.
"so it was love at first sight, huh?" he inches closer to you, almost grazing his lips against yours.
"or maybe it was the free piercings?"
a flash of annoyance crosses his face as he rolls his eyes, but the smirk doesn't leave. he closes the gap between you and firmly press his lips against yours. his hand slides down to the column of your neck. it pushes you back against the tank of the toilet, it takes the air out of you, and it leaves you feeling dizzy.
he pulls away and you're breathless for a moment as he presses a quicker and gentler kiss to your forehead and tilt your head to the side, finishing up with your right ear.
"can you help me take off my makeup too? and help me change into jammies?" you quietly murmur as the tip of your ears grow red.
"uh huh. anything else?" he breathes out a chuckle.
"never leave me and love me forever?"
touya would never admit it, but he loves it when you get like this after a few drinks. you're syrupy sweet, clingy, and knows exactly what you want. he can't help but feel a bit weak.
dabi's got a smart mouth, but he's dumb as rocks when he's nestled inside of you. completely lovesick, his cock is twitching and leaking as he fucks into you slowly, trying to savor every time you clench around him. you know that the shit he says when he's balls-deep is spur of the moment, drunken nonsense.
"so fucking good to me, so good," he babbles, eyes heavy and glossed over. his arms are under you, holding you up like you're weightless, hands burning against your hips. "you take me so well, you'd think you were made for me". his teeth nip against your throat, his head buried into your hair, huffing with every drag. "you're mine, yeah? you're mine?"
you nod, but it's not enough for him. he grabs your jaw, making sure you make eye contact when he speaks next. "you're never gonna leave me, you're all mine, you can't leave me."
"mm-mm" you shake your head, parting your lips so he can press his thumb to your tongue. another steady roll of his hips has you moaning against his hand.
"that's right," his eyes flutter shut, but re-open, that chilling blue drowning you. "cause i'd die for you, i would fucking kill for you baby, you know?".
you can usually tell the point where dabi's completely fucking lost in it when he starts rambling like this, cause he would never actually admit these things to you in casual conversation. no, when he's not buried to the hilt he actually doesn't like to show really any sort of emotion other than pissed off. maybe with you he's marginally nicer, but he doesn't do "that sappy shit" as he so brazenly calls it. he doesn't coddle you, or call you baby, or pretty, or anything of the sort unless he's 1. about to die or 2. about to cum. either one of those situations feels dire enough for him to actually let you in on the big "secret" that is his brain.
it's not a bad thing necessarily, it was never something you nitpicked about because, like anyone else who knows him for more than a second, you're smart enough to know that dabi is a grenade without a pin. he can show his affection for you in whatever feels comfortable for him— that's what you had agreed on when you started fucking him in the first place.
you feel loved right now, for sure. pierced cock soaking inside of you, his rough thumb pressed against your clit and circling with just enough pressure you can feel it in your toes. his lips are still pressing sloppy kisses to the connecting point of your throat and shoulder, and everything unsaid is loud enough from the way he knows your body. "'m gonna fill you up, ruin you for anyone else so you can never fucking leave—"
it comes as a bit of a shock this time around when he snaps half-way and moans into your ear, "i fucking love you".
not very dabi-like to admit he actually feels more than terrifyingly obsessed in a moment like this, but it's real enough that you're clenched around him like a vise and cumming with his name in your mouth like a stolen thought. you try to chock it up to pussy-drunk, until he spills inside of you and doubles down, repeating it over and over as he comes down from his high.
"i love you, im not joking around with you".
"okay, yeah, i believe you".
"no you don't. you don't, but i love you," he's slipping out of you slowly, and he's sweating and heaving but maybe there is some truth to him.
"i love you," you repeat back to him, and he nods, licking sweat from your temple.
ryōmen sukuna sat in his room staring at nothing in particular.
suddenly, his child tugged at his sleeve—well, one of them considering he had four.
“papa.”
sukuna didn’t look up immediately. he was slumped lazily on his tatami mat, one leg stretched out, the other bent, long fingers drumming against polished, glossy wood flooring. the late afternoon sun cast sharp shadows across his body, highlighting the dark ink-like markings that sat atop his skin.
”speak,” he said flatly.
the child huffed, small hands planted on his hips. “you said you would train me today.”
a pause.
then, slowly, sukuna’s lower right hand reached down and flicked the child’s forehead.
“impatience is weakness.”
your son, now holding his now aching forehead he stated, “it’s been three days.”
“that is nothing.”
“to you,” the child muttered.
that earned them a look—two sets of eyes narrowing slightly. dangerous. heavy. dark.
then both his mouths curled, just barely.
“bold.”
the child didn’t flinch. didn’t bow. didn’t apologize. just glared at his father.
sukuna found that, amusing. like something he’d recognized. he looked down at his son but what he saw wasn’t truly his son. he saw a mirror image of you— his stubborn and determined wife.
you watched from the doorway, arms folded into your sleeves.
“are you going to keep tormenting him,” you asked calmly, “or actually follow through on your promise?”
“stop undermining my parenting. im trying to teach him a lesson,” sukuna growled, scowling at you.
“ive did nothing of such. just asked a question.” you say fully relaxed, shrugging.
sukuna clicked his tongue.
for a moment, the air shifted—heavy, charged. the kind of tension that had made grown men collapse under its weight.
but you didn’t move.
didn’t bow.
didn’t break eye contact.
after all, you were the only one who had ever spoken to him like this and lived.
then sukuna exhaled sharply through his nose, pushing himself to stand.
“jesus fuck woman— loosen up would’ya?” sukuna gruffs out, gripping your thighs tightly as he fucks you relentlessly in missionary, music blaring in the level below as it’s a typical friday night.
“i would if you’d slow the fuck down—ngh!!” you moan. sukuna laughs.
“yeah right. you like it rough. your pussy’s a dead giveaway, brat.” sukuna says as he leans down. he nips at your neck as he pummels into your squelching cunt.
“i swear if you leave any marks on my neck, i’m going to slap you when i see you next— shit you’re so deep!” you scratch at his back as you moan loudly.
“you know i get turned on when you’re angry with me baby” sukuna lets out a breathy laugh, followed by a groan.
“i’m serious kuna! spring breaks— fuck— coming up. i’m going home to see family!” you moan, your hands moving to shove at his tattooed pecs.
“fucking fine woman.” sukuna sighs and moves his biting mouth down to between your tits and nips at the skin.
“you don’t need to literally eat me kuna just fuck me” you sigh.
“aww but you’re too pretty not to. just a little nibble baby” sukuna teases with a devilish smirk on his devastatingly handsome face.
“you’re a nuisance sukuna. fucking annoying” you breathe, the end of your sentence coming out as a whine.
“yeah? my dick annoying too or just me?” sukuna chuckles, fucking you deeper out of spite.
“just you. hate you.” you moan, gripping his shoulders as he leans over you. “oh fuck..right there kuna that feels fucking amazing” you breathe out, followed by a pornographic moan.
“yeah? fuckin’ pretty when you moan like that f’me. gonna come? make a mess?” sukuna asks, keeping at it to continue hitting that spot.
“ohhh fuck! kuna just like that!” you say, throwing your head back.
“mmmhhmmm shit—squeezin’ me, woman” sukuna folds over on top of you, hiding in your neck.
“ohhmygodddd—i’m—” you cut yourself off as your eyes roll back and your back arches. your cunt gushing around sukuna.
“fuckin’ waterworks baby” sukuna laughs which quickly turns into a groan. “y’want it inside baby?”
“yesyesyes!!” you moan, legs quivering. sukuna holds you down as he finishes inside with the sexiest groan you’ve ever heard.
you both sigh when you’re finished riding out your highs. he slumps against your neck, his big, muscular frame just engulfing you. you scratch his scalp gently, causing him to melt into you.
“you’ve ruined me for other women” sukuna sighs against your neck.
“good” you smirk. he then gets up, lifting you up with him and walks you both to his bathroom to clean up.
your loser ex has your name tattooed on his chest. and he isn’t above begging to get you back.
you stared at your tv, a tub of ice cream in hand while watching the ridiculous boxing match play on the screen. and just like clockwork, the pink haired man won, pumping his fists into the air while everyone cheered him on.
sukuna fucking ryomen.
your pathetic ex, the sad sloppy excuse of a man (or so you liked to tell yourself), the self centred prick who still thrived off of the chaos and adrenaline of a good fight, was unfortunately still as hot as ever. sweat slicked down his back, his tattoos catching the lights around the ring while he was declared the winner. it was all the same until you noticed the fresh letters carved onto his chest.
pretty letters that unmistakably spelled out your name. and knowing his body and every inch of it, you knew that that wasn’t there before. this fucking loser. had you permanently etched on your skin. and just as you were about to frantically dial his number to give him an earful, he looked riiight at the camera—
“hey y/n. i know you’re watching this. stop ignoring my calls, baby.”
oh he was dead fucking meat.
you knew that it’d be mere minutes before he showed up at your doorstep—the same cycle of him begging to have you back, only to go back to his theatrically crafted suave persona.
and just like clockwork, about an hour later—riiiing!
you opened the door only to find sukuna, still drenched in sweat, standing at your doorway with a comically large bouquet in hand.
“are you fucking insane?”
“i take it that you saw my tattoo.”
you eyed him up and down, barely hiding your distaste—until he dropped to his knees before you.
“what the fuck are you doing. GET UP.”
“please, baby please i’ll do anything to get you back.”
he was down on the ground, your neighbours whispering while the renowned boxer hugged your legs, his head buried in your thighs, the bouquet he got long forgotten on the floor.
“please.”
he was begging now, kneeling before you while his eyes brimmed with tears. and a sick sick part of you made your heart skip a beat.
he was desperate, your name etched on his chest, on his knees, hugging your legs as if that’d ground you to him.
“is this because no one wants to fuck you anymore?” you snorted and he looks at you almost as if you slapped him across the face.
“c’mon doll, you know that’s not true.”
“pathetic.” you spat out, his face flushing a deep shade the moment you said it.
“you still have they repressed degradation kink i see. stupid fucking masochist.”
fuck.
“please—.”
“your begging needs improvement. we’ll see how good you do when i have you gagged and sobbing.” you cooed and you swore you could see his sweats tent just the slightest.
you were going to turn the boxing ring’s forbidden ryomen sukuna, into your pathetic, whiny little slut. and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
GRAAH. i like pathetic men. hehe. @yoonsucks @yorikae @rosiestrudel
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
the new ballet season is upcoming and you've been selected to play both the pure white swan and the lustful black swan. you were the perfect white swan. pristine, pure, perfect. but when your strict ballet instructor guides you down a tainted path to fulfill your dual role as the black swan— just how far are you willing to go to gain his approval? how deep are you willing to let him drag you into hell for the sake of perfection? and most of all: how desperate are you to keep his attention on only you?
⌗ wc :: 1.8k
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. ballet au :: angst :: smut :: toxic dynamics :: age gap ( 40s / 20s ) :: violence :: blood :: murder :: corruption :: purity fixation :: unhealthy beauty standards :: obsession :: manipulation :: jealousy :: f.masturbation :: semi-public sex :: fingering :: rough sex :: degradation :: choking :: sukuna is very touchy & creepy :: rival!yorozu :: inspired by 2010's black swan
♡ ₊˚‧ sweetheart. this series was commissioned by @delicatedahlias <3 thank you cutie!
What were you, if not perfect?
It's the thought you went to bed with. The thought you woke up with. The word that haunted you as you sat at your table and picked at the slices of fruit you called a meal.
Perfection was discipline. Dedication. And by god, were you both.
Not a hair out of place. Not a crease in your clothes. You even walked between the cracks of tiles in the dim ballet studio.
Many said this was the place where dreams died.
But this, oh, this was where you soared.
Your feathers pristine. Your wings wide. You glided through the air and swayed to the music with an elegance most likened to an angel.
Pure, pristine, and above all:
Perfect.
Well, until he came along.
"You call that an Arabesque?"
A gruff voice maced through the cold studio air. Your feet fell flat on the floors. Dejected.
Your newest ballet instructor didn't think of you as an angel at all.
Hulking arms crossed over a broad chest. The black material of his shirt strained around his biceps. Chin raised high like his standards. Pink hair chaotic, yet controlled. Maroon eyes a burning fire of cold coals.
Ryomen Sukuna was notorious for his methods. As strict as he was severe. Said to weed out perfection from the pores of poor ballerinas with bloodied tweezers if he had to.
That's why the studio hired him. Bankruptcy threatened, and they were desperate. If anyone could fix this place, Sukuna could.
The first day he walked in, he pointed out everyone's flaws. Extended practice hours. Chastised even the smallest mistakes.
Especially yours.
His problem with you?
"You're too perfect," he barked. The ground and knees of other ballerinas trembled as he approached.
You stood stiff. Straight. But not tall, never tall. You were such a timid thing. A sweet little girl, just as your mother always wanted.
"Excuse me?" You meeked, daring to look up. The white spandex bit into your skin. Taunting you with tight failure.
"Your performance as Odette," he stopped before you. Stared into your soul until it wished to shrivel up.
"It's perfect. Not a flaw."
You blinked. Breath hitching as he circled you. A predator sizing up whether or not you were worthy prey.
You didn't voice your confusion.
As far as you were concerned, you didn't have a voice. Not in his presence. Not when searching for his approval.
His height cast a shadow over you. Swallowing you in his criticism. The studio tilted under the weight of his presence.
Auditions were always harsh. Especially for roles in Swan Lake. A classic should be treated with respect, every ballerina knew that. It was why you stepped up with your head held high and your eyes set on the Swan Queen role.
As the tale went, Odette, a virgin girl, pure and sweet, is trapped in the body of a white swan. She desires freedom but only true love can break her curse. Her wish is nearly granted in the form of a prince, but before he can declare his love— her lustful twin, Odile: the black swan, tricks and seduces him. In the end, devastated, the white swan leaps off a cliff and in death, she finds freedom.
Sukuna insisted that both white and black swans should be played by the same ballerina. And so, here you were.
Failing.
"But you're not just the white swan, are you?" He said, voice glass. "Your performance as the black swan is putrid."
It cut you, as it always did.
Your nails itched to dig into your wrists. Instead, you cupped your hands.
"What are you corrections, Mister Ryomen?" You asked, soft and sweet.
He only scoffed. Brushing past you as he left you with the scorn of your reflection.
"The black swan is chaos where there's control. Intense, violent."
His stare sliced through your confidence as he sat back down. "What would a timid little princess know about anything like that?"
Your throat tightened.
He shoved the radio back on and snapped his palms together. Rattling your ribcage as he barked out another: "again. This time with bite."
You tried.
"Again."
And you tried.
"Again."
And you. Tried.
"Again!"
Until your feet cramped. Your nails dug into your shoes. And the glint of his steeled, stern glare in the mirror was all you knew.
Along with your horrid reflection.
The office was an encyclopedia of everything you couldn't be: perfection.
The hardwood desk aligned with the floor window behind it. Shelves lined with rows of books in descending order. The wooden floors crisp. Clean. Tiles too small for you to stand between the cracks of.
Sukuna had taken the former instructor's office and moulded it into a dark, stark palace.
But he was no prince. No king. No saving grace.
Not to you.
Not yet, you thought.
"Are you here to disappoint me again?" His voice rumbled from behind the desk. Paging through a file that looked tiny in his large arms.
Would you be tiny, too? Pretty for him?
You shook the thought away. Cleared your throat and cupped your hands. Sickeningly polite as always.
"You asked to see me." You remind. A part of you wished that you didn't when his maroon glare struck at you over his shoulder.
The file snapped shut. The sound tore through your nerves and urged your spine straighter.
He sighed, raked a hand through his pink hair that boasted his years in grey roots. "I'm giving you the role as the Swan Queen."
Your heart soared—
"Regrettably."
— plummeted.
You weren't used to the word regret stitched across your back like an open wound. Your shoulders itched again. Craved your nails.
Your palms felt their indents instead.
As always, your voice froze into a crystal in your throat. Silencing your questions. But they shone in your doe eyes.
He clicked his tongue in reply.
Tossed the file to his desk and circled around it. His presence needling the hairs on your arms and soaking anxiety into your pores.
Oh, you would look so tiny in his arms.
"No one else in this studio has potential like you do. But you waste it." His words burned harsher than your numbing feet from the hours you wasted away this afternoon. Grappling for perfection. For his attention.
"I'm sorry." The apology was instinctive. So innately you.
"That's the problem." He sneered, and stepped closer. Zeroing in to your personal space and zapping the oxygen out from between the both of you.
Your breath thinned. Eyes flickered. Unable to hold his stare.
A thumb brushed your cheekbone.
Calloused on your soft, smooth skin. He nudged your chin up. Rough. As he leaned over you.
Close. Closer than sweet little girls should allow.
"You're a good girl, aren't you?" His voice, always so sharp and stinging— now a low drag that tickled your heart.
"I'm. . . what?" You whispered. Scared to shatter this moment. His attention.
Maroon eyes convicted your body. Frozen you into a perfect, porcelain doll under his touch.
"A good girl," Sukuna repeated. "Pure, sweet. The perfect white swan."
His thumb traced your cheekbone. Trailed to your chin and raised it further. Forcing you to maintain his gaze.
"But that's what makes you so weak."
A blunt nail dug into your chin, and you gasped. Quiet, even in your pain.
Sukuna shook your face. Aggressive. Broad fingers caging your jaw as the split second of tenderness fractured into an ugly, criticising stare.
"Let go of your inhibitions. Free yourself. You gotta take what you want. Bite. Release your black swan or else,"
His face thrust into yours. Eyes daggering into your soul. Tearing into your pores with tweezers ready weed out all of your flaws.
Acrid. Cutting. Blading, was his sneer.
"You'll never be perfect."
Within these four, quiet walls, you were perfect.
The perfect girl that your mother raised.
Her pure, pristine, sweet little daughter.
You saw her eyes when you looked into the mirror. Your entire home had been decked in reflective glass. So that you were always aware of yourself.
So that you could always see her.
"He gave me the role, mama."
You smile at yourself. Because maybe, just maybe. In this dim bedroom. In your clothes that were once hers.
You could imagine for a second. A fracturing, fleeting second: that it was her smiling back at you.
A mother's love was unmatched. That was what everyone said. That was what you wanted to believe. That her love for you outweighed her love for alcohol and men.
Outweighed her love for your perfection.
She was perfect once, too. A ballerina, just like you. Pristine, and pure. A paragon. Your pillar. Your pinnacle.
It was why she strove for you to be the same. Disciplined you in all the ways a loving mother would. Perfected you into the flawless angel you were, now.
You set your hair. Fixing strands into place and watching your every move in the glass.
If you squinted, perhaps you could imagine her sitting in her favourite chair behind you. Watching you, as she always did.
"But he says I'm. . . too perfect. Nonsense, right?" You scoffed. At least, you tried to.
You were never capable of being anything other than sweet and soft.
Another thing that made her proud.
"He's strict. And mean. But I can handle it." You stretched. Stepped back. Took a bow.
When you faced the mirror again, your mother's eyes looked a lot like Sukuna's.
Strict, stern. Beckoning you to hold their hand and let them forge you into their definition of perfection.
You shook your head. Looked away. Opting to focus on your childhood bedroom.
Old stuffies lined your bedsheets. White, and pink. The bedframe was lithe, elegant. Most of your room was. A place for a princess, as your mother claimed.
You hadn't changed much of it after she died.
She always set your bed. Tidied your room. Fashioned it to what was perfect for you. As she did most things in your life.
"I promise," you eyed the mirror again. Stretching your legs that ached from the hours you committed to tonight. "I'll make you proud. Be the Swan Queen, just like you were."
You approached the white vanity at your bed and twined the music box. Her music box. With a little, plastic ballerina at the centre. Twirling in a perfect pirouette.
Mesmerised, you watched for a small moment. Frozen in time. To a different time. Of your mother, on the stage. Pristine, pure. White.
She smiled at you, then. Little you in the crowd as she effortlessly performed her croisé.
You mirrored the memory. Stood with your legs crossed to the reflection. Arms posed.
the new ballet season is upcoming and you've been selected to play both the pure white swan and the lustful black swan. you were the perfect white swan. pristine, pure, perfect. but when your strict ballet instructor guides you down a tainted path to fulfill your dual role as the black swan— just how far are you willing to go to gain his approval? how deep are you willing to let him drag you into hell for the sake of perfection? and most of all: how desperate are you to keep his attention on only you?
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. ballet au :: angst :: smut :: toxic dynamics :: age gap ( 40s / 20s ) :: violence :: blood :: murder :: corruption :: purity fixation :: unhealthy beauty standards :: obsession :: manipulation :: jealousy :: f.masturbation :: semi-public sex :: fingering :: rough sex :: degradation :: choking :: sukuna is very touchy & creepy :: rival!yorozu :: inspired by 2010's black swan
♡ ₊˚‧ sweetheart. this series was commissioned by @delicatedahlias <3 thank you cutie!
╰┈➤ four - i know its over. sukuna x reader smau. masterlist!!
゛tags : sukuna x reader, bf!choso, choso is lowk a dick, strangers to friends to lovers, heartbreak, sexual jokes/references, mentions of drugs/alcohol, swearing, everyone is adults!, + more.
゛synopsis : you and choso have been dating for a while, the said "sweetheart" with a pure soul. its only until you meet his older brother that you start to rethink your options, and what to do when things take a turn.
despite you loving the environment of a party; especially satoru's, you couldn't seem to get choso out of your mind. the fact he hadn't even messaged you, not even your usual good morning and goodnight texts, frustrated you. however, despite his odd behaviour, you just put it down as him being a man child.
you roll your eyes, swatting satoru away after listening him talk your ear off for 20 minutes. your aim was to find choso, and have some heavenly make-up sex. so, three drinks deep, you wander your way through gojo's apartment to find the bathroom hidden around a corner.
after being told choso was in the bathroom, you wonder why on earth he left the door open. your brows furrow, pushing the door open slowly.
"anyone in here..?" a loud shuffle and a zip is heard before you take a glance at the sight before you, choso and yuki.
his posture straightens, "YN! uh, its not what it looks like.." choso stammers, going from what looked like to be eating yuki's mouth off, to reaching for your hand. "yn babe, listen!" yuki butts in.
tears fill your eyes, the past shots of vodka blurring your vision. you quickly slam the door shut, almost as if to push away the fact that he could possibly do something like that to you.
you stumble, your legs feeling like jelly as you speed-walk away from the bathroom. wiping away your tears, you rapidly try to fix yourself before you make a big deal out of everything; but as your eyes are closed, you come to a stop as you bump into what feels like a softer, brick wall.
"woah woah, woah." the wall steps back, holding both your shoulders to keep you balanced.
turns out, as you look up, its not a muscly brick wall, but rather sukuna.
"oh, im sorry! i didnt- i didnt see you there" you whimper, wiping your eyes frantically. how embarrassing - bumping into your now ex-boyfriends much hotter brother.
"'s alright, whats happened?" his tone is sharp and hard, but surprisingly comforting. he lowers the pressure on how he was holding your shoulders.
"choso.. he- he is kissing yuki in the bathroom," you sob "but, its okay. i knew it'd- it'd happen."
"he.. what?" sukunas brows furrow quickly, his grip intensifying as he silently scolds his brother, whilst you continue to cry.
sukuna softens for a second, seeing your sorry state. "its fine.. uh- y/n. let me get someone to take you home." he stated, unsure on how to help in any other way but beating choso black and blue.
he taught his brother better than that, he took over the rule of parent for yuji and choso, raising them throughout his own childhood. sukuna's anger channeled throughout his body, this poor girl sobbing over his brother who clearly doesn't deserve her. no, choso didn't deserve someone as pretty as you.
゛a/n : written segment! how we feeling about it?? should i continue writing or is it buns TwT. im quite proud of this part and im sure this is what a lot of you guys where waiting for. next part coming soon!!
╰┈➤ taglist : closed for now! (some @ didnt work, so i removed you from it im sorry!!)
╰┈➤ intro: 2swag2gag. sukuna x reader smau - masterlist!!
゛tags : sukuna x reader, bf!choso, choso is lowk a dick, strangers to friends to lovers, heartbreak, sexual jokes/references, mentions of drugs/alcohol, swearing, everyone is adults!, + more.
゛synopsis : you and choso have been dating for a while, the said "sweetheart" with a pure soul. its only until you meet his older brother that you start to rethink your options, and what to do when things take a turn.
゛a/n: this is just an intro to all the chars in this lovely series, im going to do the others in my next post. hopefully this isnt too boring! chapter three is in the works rn xD
╰┈➤ taglist : might have to close the taglist soon!
It had been several weeks since Sukuna had gone, the only contact you’ve had with him was a quick call informing you he had arrived safely to his destination. It lasted less than a minute but you cherished it not knowing when you would get to talk to him again.
“This is Sukuna Ryomen. I have arrived safely at the base. Do not send any food or other supplies. I will contact you in about 10 days with a postcard with my new mailing address. Thank you for all your support. I love you” his voice was hard and controlled.
Sure enough you did get your postcard, you had already begin writing to him as soon as you got the call making sure to call his family so they could do the same. You quickly sent all letters to him as quick as possible, and you waited a long time for a reply back but you hadn’t received one just yet.
Sukuna was living in hell right now.
This basic training course was bullshit, first they cut his hair which he was completely fine with that until these fat assholes were yelling in his ear the whole time.
Sukuna hated his commanding officer naoya, he hated him so much he never remembered his name always calling him commander fat head. He didn’t respect him cause he knew all he talked was bullshit, everyone around the base knew that the commander had never even seen the frontlines before like he said he has.
Not only was sukuna already smarter than everyone around him but he was easy to train, so they plucked sukuna out of training earlier than normal and put him into special training. They knew they could turn this young man into a weapon so that’s exactly what they planned to do, they were going to do it slowly. He hadn’t been on the battlefield yet but he was going through extensive physical training everyday, lightly breaking his mental as he went on.
10 weeks in and Sukuna had been going strong, he had looked like a completely new person but he tried not to let the constant torture put upon him by his higher ups let them mess up his mind. Finally they gave him phone service, naturally, his first call went to you. He was anxious as the phone rang, listening to that familiar chime until finally it stopped and he heard the voice he thought about every second he was here.
~ring~ ~ring~ ~ring——————
“Hello..?” the number was unrecognizable to you but you knew you could get a phone call any second. you desperately waited for any type of communication you could get with him.
“Baby.. i missed your voice so much” it was sukuna! his voice was much raspier than usual it sounded like he was constantly straining it. you couldn’t help the overflow of emotions as you started crying.
“Sukuna i missed you too… uh how is everything over there?” you didn’t really know what to ask because you didn’t want to seem insensitive.
“It’s a hellhole here. they’re-“ he wasn’t sure if he should be telling you they were specifically training him differently than the others but also there was too many people around him. “They’re really strict over here” he says lightly and then lets out a sigh.
“I miss you so much and i think abou-“ he was cut off
“Man stop hogging the fucking phone” commanding officer, naoya/fathead, was yelling behind him.
Sukuna tried to keep his cool and let out a sigh telling you he had to go and that he would try to call you again.
“Hey pretty boy! be ready cause tomorrow you’re on watch tomorrow” naoya annoyingly calls out to sukuna as he’s walking away, sukuna’s felt weird knowing he would be away from the safety of the base but he wasn’t scared.
“You think im pretty?” Sukuna asked naoya teasingly, that had the whole room laughing at that asshole, and sukuna left it at that leaving to his bunk so he could sleep before the next day.
Eight long months pass and Sukuna is just as miserable as before but at least he’s gotten himself familiar with the people around him, he got really close with the man he shared a bunk with named Toji who willingly joined the military to get some cash for his pregnant wife and one of the medics named uraume. He knew everyone in the building but he didn’t get as close to them.
he knows he’s stuck here for another 14 months.(he’s mandated to serve 2 years and he’s only 10 months in) so might as well make himself at home.
Fuck does he miss home, he misses his grandpa and his brother but more importantly he misses you so much. He misses you so fucking much, gosh he misses the way you smelled, your soft lips on his, the softness of your skin, and god he hates to be a perv but he misses fucking you. He jerks himself off to the thought of you in the small-ass porter-potties because that’s the only space he has alone time but this is his life for a long time so he gets used to it.
Right now he’s up in a watch tower with toji asleep by his side, it’s dark as fuck and they could barely see anything aside from the occasional AFV/MFV passing by. It’s peaceful out here, for now, he gazes up at the stars thinking about you. He wonders if you’re watching the sky he is right now, he looks up at the moon and holds his hand up to it, do you think the moon is as beautiful as he does right now?
looks like the frat!sweetheart can’t put fratboy!sukuna in his place after all…
art creds @/hunnismoker
MDNI 18+ cw!! p in v, unprotected, eating out, choking, hair pulling, name calling, praise, degrading, ever so slighttt exhibitionism, edging, casual sex, rough sex, they’re both kinda mean lols.
☆ this is my first time writing smut sorry if it sucks balls HA just had to make a part 2
no one could put you in your place better than this provoking man.
especially when you attempted to put him in his place earlier in the day, for almost fucking up the frat party plan.
wet, nasty, sounds bounce off the walls of his frat bedroom, alongside the muffled bass of whatever song satoru insisted was played in the party downstairs. you could almost hear him arguing with suguru if it wasn’t for the primal grunts in your ear.
everyone knew that you were the only girl who sukuna actually listens to. the only one who could clap back at his comments and ‘put him in his place’. he lets you run that pretty mouth in public, but you both knew the truth.
sukuna has you in reverse cow girl, that pretty, black, backless dress with the low scoop neckline bunched up, sticking around your sweaty waist.
your heels lasted about 30 minutes on your feet, before being tossed on his bedroom floor. your thick thighs straddled around his muscular ones, pressing up against that ass sukuna could never get off his mind.
gold bangles jangling as his large, veiny, calloused hand is wrapped around that pretty ponytail, painfully yanking your head back towards him. he’s tilted it back only enough for you to see those little silver snake bite piercings glint against that smug grin, behind your blurry tearful eyes.
strong, hard, thighs thick and steady as he drives his hips harsh into your plush thighs and ass. deeep. mean. punishing.
“kuna— f-fuck- i said i’m so—sorry” you hiccup, cunt shamelessly creaming around the base of his shaft. tits bouncing at every snap of his hips. his dick wasn’t just thick, but stupidly long. no wonder he was always so cocky. (get it)
this had become a routine for you guys. you shout at him, he puts you in your place. simple. but this time he had somewhat of an evil glint in his eye.
“sorry ain’t gonna fix it this time princess- h-haah- you cussed out my- fuuck- whole frat huh?”
his hips drove into you again and again, seemingly splitting you open, hitting that spot deeeep that made your legs feel like they could give out at any moment, earning him the neediest whimper from you.
“kunaaa— y’know i was s-stressed and- oh my fuck right there- and you guys- a-ah!” you blabber into your hand you muffled your moans with. the party downstairs is momentarily forgotten—or ignored.
“i know i was being a brat—i jus—“
“you could’ve been a good girl f’me” he cuts you off harshly with a sharp smack! of your plush ass.
he finally lets go of your hair, but instead wraps his hand around that pretty little neck, fingertips brushing that gold dainty birthstone necklace he bought you after one of your bigger arguments.
“but instead y’wanna be a fucking slut, prancing around in those tight ass tracksuits with your tits out- shittt- then shouting at my bros? huh? answer me princess” he pants out.
“m’sorry sukuna- please“ you gasp as he squeezes your throat just that bit tighter—he knows you can take it.
he was obssessed with this. with you. with the attitude and back chat you give him, then the sounds you made when you got all needy and apologetic. he watches your ass bounce on his lower torso, memorising every jiggle. you guys fucked all the time. it still didn’t mean he ever got sick of listening to you repeatedly moaning out that little nickname—“kuna”, as well as the whiny “sorry’s” and whimpers when he rolleddd his hips ever so slightly brushing against that needy clit he refused to touch.
so fucking mean.
the squelching of skin sliding and smacking against each other manages to get obscenely louder. his dick hitting that same spot repeatedly, and your not sure you’re making it out of his room alive.
“please what? told ya to use your words f’me doll, didn’t i?” he torments.
“p-please let me come” you whine as your legs begin to tremble, threatening to collapse in his lap altogether. the familiar pressure starting to build up. hot. intense. eye rolling.
he pulls out with a slick *fwop*. “ah-ah pretty girl”.
oh he was so fucking mean.
“kuna- w-what are u doing i said m’sorry—god ur such a fucking dick” you furrow your brows.
he grabs the small of your waist and fully manhandles you. effortlessly flipping you over like a ragdoll, so you’re on all fours. he shoves your head allll the way down, arching your back, just enough for your face to be smushed against those duck feather pillows you meet on the regular.
“say sorry like you mean it”. he says dangerously low.
you look back at him, ass still in the air. “i’m sorry sukuna. i promise i won’t be a brat again.” a lie
he doesn’t believe it for a second. but he can’t leave you unsatisfied, no matter how pissed off he is.
“you look better like this, all arched just for me”
“shut the fuck up” you spit weakly.
he laughs. actually fucking laughs. you’re head down, ass up and he laughs. you glare back at him, swearing one day your actually going to choke him out.
he looks at your creamy pussy and you could swear you heard an actual growl. he licks a looong stripe of your pussy, using the very tip of his tongue, moaning at the taste.
sweet. pure addiction.
you writher under his touch. so so close. but so far.
“need ur tongue- mmph- please?”
“fuck you sound so pretty when you beg, princess”
he devours your pussy, sticking that pierced tongue soooo deep inside your mess of a cunt. you can feel the cool silver ball scraping against your gummy walls. sucking, slurping, clearly not a concern in the world for the party downstairs. almost like he wanted them to hear who really puts who in place.
you feel him moan against your pussy, the vibrations earning yet another needy whimper muffled by his pillow.
that familiar red hot feeling stirs in your stomach once again. you desperately grab onto the damp pillow- were you crying? (gojo reference) only to be abruptly cut short by a sharp slap! of your ass.
sooo mean.
before you can protest, he straightens up and shoves his bare dick deep down that needy hole of yours (he “doesn’t believe” in condoms), before slowly, torturously, pulling almost all the way out. his large palm pressing your head impossibly deeper into his grey pillow.
“thaaats it. you can take it. gooood girl. feel so fuckin’ good around me”
brutally pounded into his frat bed, knowing that if someone pressed their ear to his bedroom door, they would hear everything.
between muffled moans and whimpers you manage to spit out “kuna oh fuuuck- g’na come- please??” you whine out.
“come on my dick, beautiful girl”
with that you finally let go, after all the mean edging he put you through, it only made this orgasm harder, making your head spin. alongside the courage shots you drank before you even said hi to him earlier at the party.
he pulls out, and shoots his hot load down your arched back with a broken groan, painting it with wet, creamy splatters. panting out something that sounded like “fuckin’ brat”, before you collapse into the slightly damp bed, closing your eyes in long awaited satisfaction.
“you gonna be a good girl f’me next time?” he coos with a kiss to your shoulder, acting like he didn’t just rearrange your literal guts.
no. “yes kuna” you mumble with a broken whine, looking up at him, fluttering those oh so innocent eyes.
more thoughts of ryomen sukuna, your rockstar boyfriend and what your life is like before something big happens.
↳ 1.2k
↳ cw: mention of intimate photos, self-masturbation, implied p in v, implied video sex, general nsfw content, slightly soft sukuna.
💋 diary entries 💋 | 🎸 part 1 | 🎸 part 3
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at every given opportunity, will use samples of you in his music - voice, video, photos? you better check it off the list. after all, he wants to show you off to the world - especially with photos that leave little to the imagination while protecting your dignity, knowing he's the only one who gets to see you like that.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who always has a space for you on his tour bus and vice versa. fuck what his bandmates had to say, he wanted you beside him whenever one of you wasn’t touring. he was addicted.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at every given opportunity, will take photos and videos of you, be that of you writing your band's next hit song or when the two of you are cuddled up in bed after fucking, and every moment in between.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, while fucking you in the nastiest positions you could imagine, marks you in a way he knows everyone out there will see. the thought of everyone seeing exactly who you belong to gets him off, causing him to rut his hips into you more.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who spends more time backstage at your concerts, that much so that it would be considered weird if he wasn’t dating you. not that he would care what those losers would say, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who doesn’t show it but he misses you so goddamn much whenever you’re both touring at the same time. he hates spending time apart from you as everything feels so empty.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who makes the most of the private album he has on his phone in times like that. an album that’s full of the dirtiest pictures and videos of you. that one picture of you looking completely fucked out after he had you in a mating press? that video of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at an alarming rate? that audio of you moaning out his name as you begged him to let you come? he’s got those and more. after all, he needs to make sure he remembers you in every way possible.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who will occasionally video call you when he’s pumping his cock just so he can see your reaction when he moans out your name, growling that he’ll be back soon enough and you can make up for all the lost time he’s had fuck his fist.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who also video calls you when you’re both touring, so he can keep you company when you’re feeling a little down from being in another country to him. who lets you fall asleep while on call as he knows it’s the only way you’ll get a good sleep and wake up feeling more refreshed. who's counting down the days until you're back home in his arms.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who’s waiting at the airport for your band to land when your tour finally ended. he said it was purely so he could keep the paparazzi off you but in reality, he wanted to be the first person you saw when you stepped through the doors. big smile on your face as you wrap your arms around him, whispers of how much you've missed him, making him smile softly.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, despite your protests, takes you out for a meal that night, being sure to wine and dine you because he missed the fuck out of you. who’s also buttering you up so he can be head first and cock first in between your legs when he gets you back through the front door of his apartment.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who might look like someone who doesn’t even know the meaning of the word soft, but clearly he does, especially when he has you pinned down under him. who thrusts into you soft and slow despite wanting to ruin you again. soft kisses and words as he silences you with kisses. after all, you need to rest your voice after such a long tour. you'll be the only one who will see this side of him, no one else and you love it as much as you love him.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, despite never thinking he’d ever find someone to love cause he truly believed the whole thing was bullshit, cuddles your closer to him, not wanting to let you go. arms wrapped around you and hand stroking your hair as you rested your hand on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart, possibly inspiring a new song knowing you.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who has to make sure everything is perfect, not being on the stage while planning something this big made him more nervous than he expected. give him a big audience and his bad-boy persona - that was a walk in the park compared to this.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who waits for you to come back from shopping before you head over to his place, helping you make some food before you both sit down on the sofa with a notebook in your hand. ideas bouncing off each other as his leg bounced in anxiety. he had to pick the right time.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at the moment you ask him what should go in this verse last mine, blurts out “you gonna marry me or what woman?” before taking in your bewildered expression, eyes wide.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who’s suddenly become full-blown nervous as he looks at you, throat drying up and heart pounding so erratically it could burst from his chest. who feels like the seconds have begun to drag as he waits for you to respond, that’s if you ever did.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, for probably the first time in his life, becomes deflated and quickly removes his hand from his pocket trying to distract himself, not paying attention to the huge smile on your face before pouncing on top of him with a laugh, arms wrapping around him and you muttered back “I think the new line of the chorus should be of course i’ll marry you, you fucking idiot”.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who looks at you confused as you smile brightly, cupping his face and placing a loving kiss on his lips. who’s still just as confused as you pull back, thumbs rubbing his cheeks as you hum out a quick “i said of course i’ll marry you”.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who becomes rockstar fiancé! sukuna when he finally slips the ring onto your finger, taking a moment to admire the fact that you’re one step closer to not only being with him for the rest of your lives but taking his name as yours.
rockstar fiancé! sukuna who, a few days later, posts to his public insta account for the first time in a good few months, with a photo of you and him, hands up showing off the ring you wore while doing your signature poses with your other hand. “who wouldn’t say no to me? future mrs r.s. coming soon @/itsherduh”.
rockstar fiancé! sukuna who smirks at the comments that ping through his phone as he glances over to you lying on the bed, quickly snapping a soft photo of you, this one being posted to his private insta this time with the caption “here’s to the rest of eternity together, my dove”.
The thing about Sukuna's Prince Albert piercing was that it looked fucking cool, felt incredible, and—as you were currently discovering—could apparently stage a hostile takeover of your sex life.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he groaned, not in the same good way he'd been groaning approximately thirty seconds ago.
"What?" You looked up at him, still flushed and breathless, your hair a mess across his pillow. "What's wrong?"
"Don't move." Sukuna's voice came out sharp. He was buried deep inside you, one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, and you could feel exactly where the problem was—something wasn't right. The curved barbell of his piercing had somehow—horrifyingly—caught on something inside. "I'm serious. Don't fucking move."
"Sukuna, what—"
"My piercing's stuck." He bit the words out, jaw clenched tight. You watched sweat break out across his forehead, his crimson eyes shifting in a panic from where you were connected to your face.
There was a beat of silence while your brain processed his words.
"What do you mean stuck?"
"What you think I mean? It's caught, hooked, my dick is stuck." He tried to pull back experimentally, just a fraction of an inch, and you both gasped. You from the sharp, strange tug inside you, him from what looked like an unwanted jolt of pleasure that made his eyes squeeze shut. "Fuck—okay, not good."
Oh god. Oh god. This was not how this was supposed to go. Twenty minutes ago, he'd been all cocky grins and smooth moves. You'd been into it, he'd been into it, and the piercing had been doing exactly what it was supposed to do—making your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his shoulders from the drag of it against your walls.
Now? Now he was stuck inside you like some kind of depraved Chinese finger trap.
"Okay, okay." You tried to stay calm. "Can you just... pull out slowly?"
"What an idea!" Sukuna snapped, frustration bleeding into his voice with clear sarcasm. "It's hooked on something, your cervix, or—I don't fucking know the anatomy here—"
"Oh my god." You dropped your head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. This could not be happening.
And the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that despite the panic written all over his face, you could feel him still rock-hard inside you. Every little bit of friction, every breath that shifted you both even slightly made the metal of his piercing press against your inner walls in a steady, subtle beat. He twitched inside of you, his dick clearly enjoying itself despite the crisis.
"What if we—" You shifted your hips experimentally, trying to find an angle that might help.
"I said don't shit—" The movement made him throb inside you, the piercing tugging in a way that sent a confusing jolt of pleasure-pain through you. His breath hitched, his expression twisting between panic and unwanted pleasure. "Jesus Christ."
"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tightly. "Okay, new plan. What if you angle to the left?"
Sukuna's laugh came out bitter and sharp. "Oh sure, let me just—" He tried anyway, you could see him concentrating, feel him attempting to shift. But angling left just made the barbell catch on a different spot, the drag of metal against your inner walls made you gasp and clench around him involuntarily.
His whole body jerked, a groan tearing from his throat that sounded equal parts frustrated and aroused. You felt him pulse inside you, his cock apparently living in a completely different reality than his brain—one where being trapped inside you was the best thing that had ever happened to it.
"This is fucking ridiculous," he gritted out, and you could hear him losing his composure with every word. "This is—this shouldn't even be physically possible."
"Can you reach your phone?" you asked desperately. "Maybe we should—"
"And call who exactly?" Sukuna's voice went up half an octave. "Campus health services? 'Hi, yeah, my dick has taken a hostage, send help?'” He was holding his hand to his ear as if on the phone, “The guys would never let me live this down, they'd put it on my fucking tombstone."
You stared up at him, and despite everything, you couldn't help but notice the disconnect. His face was full of panic and frustration, his words getting sharper and more frantic, but his body? His body was still very much enjoying this. You could feel every twitch, every involuntary throb.
"Are you—" You hesitated. "Are you seriously still hard?"
"Think I don’t know?" Sukuna's face flushed darker. "That's not—my dick doesn't have thoughts, okay? It doesn't understand we're in a crisis—"
"There has to be something we can—" You tried to shift again, rolling your hips slightly.
"Stop moving!" But it was too late. The movement created a slow, torturous slide that hit nerve endings you didn't even know you had. His hips jerked forward, driving him deeper, and the sound he made was absolutely wrecked. "Fuuck—fuck—"
You stopped in your tracks, looking mortified, "Did I hurt you?" you asked, concerned despite everything.
"No," he bit out, he sounded almost angry about it. "No, it didn't hurt— just stop moving holy shit."
You stared at each other, and you watched realization dawn on his face with something like horror, the inevitable being to call for help.
"We are not doing that," Sukuna said firmly, even as you felt his cock twitch eagerly inside you, completely betraying his words. "We need to stay calm and figure out how to—oh fuck—" He'd shifted his weight without thinking, trying to get a better angle to assess the situation, the movement of dragging him in and out subtly, but just enough to get that friction his cock so desperately needed.
You watched his eyes go wide, then glaze over slightly at the edges, his jaw clenching so hard to keep a moan from coming out.
"Okay, okay," he panted, you could hear the desperation now. "I'm gonna try to twist—"
"No! No twisting!" The thought alone made you panic, the last attempt replaying in your head still.
"Then what the fuck do you suggest?" He was trying so hard to stay still, but every breath moved you both, every heartbeat pulsed through where you were joined at. "Because I'm kind of running out of options here and it's not cooperating—"
You shifted beneath him without meaning to, trying to get more comfortable somehow, but the movement rippled through your body in a wave that squeezed him which is something you definitely weren't trying to.
"Fuck—stop—" His voice cracked on the word. "Don't—" He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Don't move and don’t fucking clench like that."
"I'm not trying to!" But your body did it again anyway, completely involuntary, you could see the little control Sukuna had left crumble. His arms were shaking now, whether from holding himself up or from fighting his own body's response, you couldn't tell.
"This is—I can't—" He tried to pull back again, movements getting jerky and desperate, but the piercing held fast and you felt the friction, too much, too good. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing, and you could feel him getting close despite—or maybe because of—how utterly mortifying this was. "No, no, no—"
"Sukuna?" Your voice came out uncertain, almost dumbfounded by his audacity. "Are you seriously about to—"
"You keep moving," he choked out, he sounded genuinely distressed, frustrated beyond belief. "I'm trying not to—I can't stop it—fuck, I can't—"
You felt the moment his orgasm hit him, his whole body going rigid as he spilled inside you, still trapped, still absolutely losing his mind over it. He buried his face in your neck with something between a groan and a growl of pure frustration, and you felt him pulse inside you as he came harder than he probably ever wanted to in this situation, his hips rocking just the barest to ride off his orgasm.
He stayed there for a bit even after bring done, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing hard. You could practically feel the mortification radiating off him. Man were you happy to be on the pill right about now.
"You really—"
"Yes." His voice was muffled against your skin. "I fucking did. You happy?"
There was a pause while you processed this, still slightly stunned that his body had just completely overridden his brain. You were still laying there, hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life.
"Maybe you're... unstuck now?"
Sukuna looked back up at you, then he carefully, slowly, tried to pull back. The piercing released easily, like it had never been caught at all, there’s no way you were both gaslit by a shitty piercing for the last couple of minutes.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said to the universe at large, the sheer exasperation in his voice made you lose it.
You started laughing first—a slightly hysterical giggle that built into full-body laughter. After a long pause of him just staring at you, Sukuna joined in, because what else could either of you do in this type of situation?
"I'm taking this fucking thing out," he muttered, flopping onto his back beside you. "right now actually, stupid piece of garbage." He was already going at it, fiddling with the ball he just couldn’t seem get a hold of.
You grinned at him, sitting up to catch a better view of Sukuna and his struggle. "Most interesting hookup I've had this semester." You mocked, clearly searching for a reaction from him.
Sukuna looked at you and rolled his eyes with a groan and pulled a pillow over his face.
A sharp knock came at the door.
"Sukuna! Yo, you coming to the party or what?" Gojo's voice rang out from the hallway, annoyingly cheerful. "We've got beer and—"
"Fuck off," Sukuna called back, not moving from under the pillow.
"Come on, man. You've been MIA all night. The guys are asking—"
"I said fuck off, Satoru."
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh as you watched Sukuna's irritation spike. He was still half-tangled in the sheets, his hair a mess, and now he had to deal with this idiot.
"Dude, seriously?" Gojo's voice came through the door again, completely unbothered by the hostility, used to it actually. "At least tell me you're doing something fun. Please tell me you're not just jerking off in there alone—"
"Satoru."
There was a pause, “ooh you got a lady in there don’t you?" You could imagine him wiggling his eyebrows, he loved teasing the guy.
Sukuna's eye twitched visibly.
"Oh my god, look at you, getting it in!" Gojo's voice was dripping in mockery. "That's what I'm talking about! Good boy—"
"You fucking twat—"
"Ay woah, I'm leaving! My bad, my bad. You keep doing your thing king!" Footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by Gojo's distant laugh and what sounded like him telling the other guys that Sukuna was "a little busy”.
Sukuna groaned, a sound of pure suffering, and pulled the pillow tighter over his face in an attempt to suffocate himself.
You couldn't help it, you started laughing again at how badly life was treating him right about now.
After a moment of self pity, Sukuna sat up, brows forrowed with determination. He worked at the piercing with renewed focus, muttering a few curses under his breath. You watched as he finally—finally—managed to angle it just right, and with a sharp intake of breath, he got it free.
He sat there for a second, breathing hard, looking victorious with his canines showing through his grin despite the humiliation.
Then he turned to you, crimson eyes dark as he crawled back over you. "Alright," he said, his voice low with a low growl accentuating the end of the word. "Let me fuck you properly now."
here’s a quick little one I worked on a little bit ago while i finish the Nanami one shot I’ve got brewing<3
synopsis - what was supposed to be a shitty night sitting on the curb of a gas station convenience store, takes a turn when you meet someone you shouldn't be meeting. ryomen sukuna, your best friend's ex, offers you a ride to the biggest party of the year. who are you to say no?
tags/warnings - MDNI 18+, heavily inspired by nate n cassie s2 ep1 of euphoria, piv, short smut, afab!reader, plot with porn, sexual tension, lowkey cheating??, reader is highkey a bad bsf, dirty talk, kuna manhandles reader harshly, bad questionable moral choices from both sukuna and reader, toxic rls, author is from the uk, fanart by @/ryoza_za
wc - 3.4k
♫ now playing... Dead of Night - Orville Peck
The overhead lights were dizzying as your heels carried you through the convenience store. Nothing about this environment soothed the raging headache within you; your head seemingly having a heartbeat of its own.
The skimpy little blue bandage dress you wore was suffocating, and you wanted the gems that accompanied your makeup off in an instant. There were stacks of off-brand chips that filled the shelves, ones you knew would make you feel worse. You were only there for a sweet treat anyway.
Just a few blocks away from here was the most important party of the term: the New Year's party.
What made it so special was that Satoru Gojo, the ultimate asshole party thrower (the guy was the definition of any stereotypical jock you could imagine in a high school), spent his allowance on the largest fireworks in the neighbourhood.
On the way there, you and your sister had gotten into a fight. Something about how you shouldn't be pouring Absolut into your mouth like it's water on the way there, which didn't make any sense considering you weren't the one driving. Plus, who doesn't pre-game?
Screams were exchanged, and the alcohol in your system only made you say things you didn't really mean.
You were a lightweight. Which was also why in your group of friends, you were never the designated driver.
As you made your way through the candy aisle, you grabbed a purple lollipop which could be dipped in Pop Rocks. Stumbling on your heels, you quickly paid for it, pulling a few bills out from your push-up bra.
You made your way out, sitting on top of a parking stop. You felt pathetic. All of your friends were probably at the party at this moment, having the time of their lives, whilst you sat here on a dirty surface, eating a treat you haven't tasted since you were nine.
A black Jeep Gladiator pulled up to the front, its headlights almost blinding you.
You brought up a hand to cover the lights, yellow tint slipping through the spaces of your fingers. It was familiar, but not enough for you to be curious as to who was going into the store. You focused on the candy in your hand, your phone buzzing with calls from your sister.
Normally, you'd answer. You always pick up your phone when she rings, especially since you were older. But you were too upset, too drunk, and too embarrassed. So you didn't pick up, letting the phone vibrate against your thigh.
You shut your eyes, swirling the lollipop in your mouth and letting the sound of the pop rocks fill your ears and fizz on your tongue. It was warm behind your eyelids, and part of you was worried you'd end up falling asleep here.
The door buzzed, and you turned your head around to see none other than Ryomen Sukuna, the 6'4-tatted-up-God-of-Jujustsu-High standing before you, half his face illuminated by the lights that escaped through the windows of the store.
He was every girl's bedroom fantasy, and most importantly, your best friend's ex.
Maya and Sukuna were never a good match. But it was safe to say that they were obsessed with each other. Their relationship was infamous for being abusive, manipulative, and toxic.
They had all the issues of a house of cards. Perfect on the outside, but could be knocked over with the lightest little blow.
But he was gorgeous. He had tattoos that spread all the way to his face, defining his chiselled jaw even more. He had muscles that looked like they were carved by Michelangelo himself, and a smile that knew of its impact.
Now, here he was, standing in front of you with a pack of beer bottles in one hand.
A lopsided smirk crept its way along his face as he brought one of the beer bottles to his mouth, biting the cap off and spitting it out. "Need something to wash that down?"
"Thanks." You said softly, taking the lollipop out of your mouth and resting it between your index and middle fingers. Taking the bottle from his hand, your fingers brushed against his, which your brain tried to erase quickly. You had already finished the Pop Rocks, so why did it feel like it made its way to your brain?
"Shouldn't you be at Satoru's tonight?" He looked down at you, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"I was on the way there with my sister." You took a sip. "But we got into this huge fight, so like- I guess I'm here now."
"No boyfriend to take you there?"
You looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes and shaking your head. "Toji and I… we didn't really work out. We were just in different places."
"Hm." His lips pressed into a line, face unreadable. He gently took the bottle from your hands, taking a sip before giving it back. He smacked his lips, looking out onto the road before his eyes travelled to yours again.
Only, maybe it wasn't your eyes but your purple-coated tongue.
"So you're a relationship kind of girl, huh?" He teased, the corners of his lips once again returning to a smirk.
"'M trying not to be."
Your words sank in for a few seconds before you realised what you were unintentionally implying.
"N-not in that way," You continued, "Just that- I'm trying to uhm… focus on myself more. Instead of getting into a relationship every second."
"Why not?" He pressed, and the back of your neck suddenly prickled and felt hot.
You brought up a hand to weave your hands through your hair and toss it over your shoulder, exposing one side of your collarbone to the cold air.
"I just keep making mistakes and not learning from them."
You handed the beer back to him, throwing the now finished lollie stick onto the ground and kicking it into a storm drain.
He chuckles at your answer, shaking his head and taking a swift swig of the bottle, finishing it. "Do you need a ride to this party, then, Ms. commitment?"
You stare at your heels for a minute, rubbing your bare arms. This seems like a bad idea.
This is a bad idea.
What are you thinking? He's a manipulative piece of shit that ruined your best friend's life. Maybe he could ruin yours?
—
You don't know why you said yes, or how you even got into this situation in the first place. But here you are, in his car, both of you laughing like schoolgirls as he nurses another beer.
He gives it to you, under the guise of being "a responsible dude who can't get Maya's best friend into trouble."
It was meant to come across as a joke, but the reminder of Maya and the sound of her name on his tongue is enough to make the beer taste bitter. You giggle awkwardly, which he notices.
Of course, he notices. So as a distraction, he puts the windows down and turns the music up. You smile, putting your hand out the window and feeling the breeze push past your fingers. It's comforting. Way more comforting than it should be.
The car is silent, save for the music that blasts through the speakers and the sound that the wind makes blowing through your ears. He looks over at you and just smiles, watching you carefully nurse your drink.
You don't want to get too drunk.
You should still be cautious, being in a car with Sukuna of all people. But you're also pretty sure you're way past the point of sober.
Otherwise, you wouldn't be in this car at all. Instead, you'd be dancing with your friends, counting down the seconds till the new year and finding someone to share a New Year's kiss with.
Okay, maybe you were wrong about this whole thing being "comforting." You know you shouldn't be here. You knew this was a bad idea. And you knew that Maya scared the living crap out of you.
She was a beautiful girl, the reincarnation of a raven. While you were her complete opposite. You were kinder, gave people the benefit of the doubt more, and in turn, were more vulnerable. Naïve. Maya, however, wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Especially when it came to people whom she loved and trusted. Which is why you could never break her trust.
Maybe that's why she and Sukuna didn't work out. She wouldn't take his shit.
Sukuna noticed the nervousness and hesitation that lay behind your eyes, begging to be perceived with nonchalance. But he knew. He always knew how to get under people's skin. Especially to get what he wanted, he would stop at nothing.
So when he saw you sitting on the curb of that convenience store, sucking on a lollipop and looking ravishing, he knew what he wanted.
What he needed.
And when you opened that pretty little mouth of yours, tongue stained with purple? You were already under his spell the moment you locked eyes.
60, 79, 90, 103 mph.
He wasn't stopping, and each time the number increased on that monitor, your senses heightened in sync. And what made it worse was that he wasn't even looking at the road.
He was looking at you.
From your eyes, to your lips, to your neck, then your tits… You were aware.
He hit a speed bump, and you squealed, the forgotten bottle of beer spilling onto your lap as he laughed like it was his plan all along.
"Oh my days- what the hell, Kuna, you arse!" You hit his shoulder with the palm of your hand, unbuckling your seatbelt and placing the beer bottle into the cup holder. You wait for him to apologise, and when he doesn't, you look at his face only to see the smug smile that makes you want to straddle strangle him.
You can't help but laugh with him, before it dies down after a few seconds. Now he's just shamelessly staring into your mouth.
"If you're speeding like this, then you should be looking at the road. My dress is ruined." You interrupt the silence.
He ignores you. "Your tongue is purple. Y'know that?"
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." You let out a huff of amusement to mask the tremble in your voice. He doesn't buy it.
Silence. He turns up the AC to help you dry your dress.
Then, you do something really risky.
Something sober you never would do.
Something Maya could kill you over.
You reach under your dress, knowing his eyes are fixated on you. You pull down your lacy white panties—which can't even be classified as such if they're completely see-through—keeping your eyes on his to try and gauge his reaction.
He says nothing. His jaw goes slack, and he's not even trying to pretend he's looking at your face right now.
You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as you throw the undergarment in the back seat.
Now his eyes are glued to the road.
—
"Hey, have you seen my sister?"
The party was loud and crowded. A bunch of sweaty people smelling of alcohol and drugs packed into one house. Everyone was here; even seniors who had graduated 3 years ago.
People were stripping outside and jumping into the pool, each room filled with people either passing blunts or girls around, boys with egos way too big for their heads playing beer pong, and the sound of some God-awful karaoke mixed with DJ-ing filled every single crevice of the area.
It was impossible to escape.
Maya pushed past a couple making out to get to where your sister was standing. The two shot a glare towards her, but once they could see that the one responsible for the cock-block was none other than Maya Atsumu, their complaints died down.
"I thought both of you got here together?" Maya asked, turning to your sister.
Your sister was only a year younger than you and your friends, so in a way, they were friends as well.
Every time they came over to your place, she was always there. At first, this bothered you. Couldn't she have gotten friends of your own? But the idea was quick to warm up to you as you both grew older, and your bond grew stronger.
Your friends loved her as well, so that was good.
"She was, but for some reason, I can't find her. We got into a fight before she stormed off." Your sister raked a hand through her hair, looking around. "I assumed you guys would be together."
Her brows furrowed. "Have you tried calling?"
"I did, but it keeps going straight to voicemail." She bit the inside of her cheek.
"That's weird. She always picks up." Maya groaned, her bladder being on the brink of explosion. Her eyes that were once fixated on your sisters now roamed around the room, scanning for any toilets. "Fuck, I need to use the lav. I'll ring you if I see her, 'kay?"
She sighed before nodding and seeing Maya off.
—
Sukuna's cock pumps in and out of you, each thrust guaranteeing pleasure.
He knows he's good at this, but the feeling of a new pussy clamping around his shaft, taking him all the way in, is enough to turn him into a virgin again.
You're sucking him in like there's no tomorrow, dress bunched up at your waist, your bra long forgotten.
Your back is against the door of this random bathroom he pulled you into, legs wrapped around his hips.
You're sure that your thighs will have bruises you'll regret tomorrow morning, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about the future when his whole cock has you splitting in half and panting like a bitch in heat.
"Fuuuuuuuckkk… you feel so good…" Sukuna grits through his teeth, red eyes piercing through yours. He's eye fucking you.
"You're fucking perfect… God, I'm ruining you."
You can't say anything. You can't even whisper in his ear and praise him like the God he so desperately tries to be, because each time the sound of skin slapping hits your ears, you see streaks of white and your brain goes dead.
Wanton moans spill out of your mouth, your folds clenching tighter around him.
"Shit, you're so tight. Loosen up for me, baby. Let me in."
His words barely register in your head, but once they do, you fall completely apart, walls fluttering around him, allowing you to take in every inch of him, balls-deep.
At the height of your sensations, just as he's about to cum, there's pounding at the door, the knob rattling.
"Fuck off! I'm using this shit!" Sukuna yells, thrusting into you harder.
"Ryomen? Is that you?" Maya chuckles from the other side of the door. "What the fuck? Open this door, I need to piss."
Your eyes grow wide, and immediately, you are snapped out of your haze, the pleasure being completely wiped from your mind.
That was Maya's voice.
You almost scream, but he clamps his large palm over your mouth.
No, no, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. Maya can't find out. Who knows what she'll do? You're a dead woman by tomorrow.
The banging continues as you stand up properly and desperately try to pull your tangled dress back on. Gods, why did you have to wear such a tight ass dress?
"Sukuna! Open this bloody door right now. What the hell are you even doing in there?" Maya presses.
"Fuck off, Maya. I'm busy. Go piss outside or something!" Sukuna yells, pulling his jeans on hastily.
Tears prick at your eyes as you hyperventilate. You can't breathe. The walls are gonna close in on you, and Maya is going to open the door at any second. Hands shaking, you silently sob as you try to pull your bra and dress back on.
"Are you fucking crying?" Sukuna whispers, grabbing your face. His fingers dig into your cheeks, causing your lips to jut out. Reading you face, eyes travelling in circles, he eventually lets go with sigh.
He paces around the small area, trying to see if the windows open. They won't.
"Are you shitting at a party?" Maya laughs degradingly. "You've got to be kidding me, Ryomen. Open this door right now. I can literally smell you from outside."
Sukuna ignores her, running his hands through his hair, a string of curses escaping his mouth. "Stop crying- why are you even crying???"
"Sh-she's my best friend-" You sob, scrambling to put your dress back on. "I-its all tangled…"
He sighs, helping you tug your dress onto your body. The material scratches at your skin, irritating it, but you can't bring yourself to care when you look at Sukuna's face and see his pupils blown wide and his breathing ragged.
You aren't sure if it's from the sex earlier or because he's fucking terrified of Maya as well.
"Okay, look. There's nowhere else you can go. So you have no choice but to get in here."
He tugs the shower curtain open, gesturing to the bathtub.
"What?" You whisper-yell.
It feels like you're about to pass out from anxiety. Nope- you're going to puke. You're definitely going to puke. Every bit of alcohol you consumed this night feels like it's making its way up your throat, whilst your tears betray you, making you choke.
"Jesus Christ, I'll take care of this, all right? I'll come get you- or you'll escape or some shit. But we'll be fine. Just get in the fucking tub." He grips your wrist harshly, shoving you in.
You stumble a bit, putting a hand over your mouth, and lying down. He shuts the curtains and exits the bathroom.
Sliding down the bathroom wall, each memory of every bad decision you had made this night replays in your head like a broken record. The cold surface taunts you as you try to seek comfort.
The tub is cold, and your head is pounding nearly as much as the door was when Maya was banging on it. You can hear the muffled sounds of their arguing from outside, but in this very moment, you're too focused on what excuse you'll come up with if she finds you in here.
This was the worst idea you've had in your entire life. Even drunk-you is able to establish that.
It would be nice to say that this whole incident made you forget about how good it felt. How good the sex felt. How good his body felt pressed against yours, tip hitting every single crevice of your stomach, but you can't say it's erased. Because you want more.
You're addicted to Ryomen Sukuna, and he's addicted to you.
—
After a few minutes, you're able to keep yourself quiet. Maya walks into the bathroom, and you can hear the zipper of her dress going down.
You feel like you're about to puke all over again, but you force yourself to keep it in. You hear the stream of piss she's letting out, and you try your best not to freak out.
"For God's sake." She whispers under her breath.
There's no toilet paper. She looks around the toilet, before spotting one of those fancy washcloths you use to dry your hands neatly placed on one of the racks.
The rack is right next to the tub.
You pray, over and over, that she doesn't see you. That she doesn't pull back the curtains.
Her hand gets closer. You can see the outline of her body reaching for the flannel. Your eyes glue shut, and you're sure that this is how you die.
Finally, by some miracle, she takes it without spotting you. You let out the tiniest breath of relief, but it doesn't end there.
She throws it into the tub, the fabric landing on your face. Shit, you really are gonna puke. Using the tips of your nails, you shove it off your face and gag. Karma's a bitch.
She finally exits the bathroom after washing her hands, and you allow yourself to sit up and make some noise. You sniffle, wiping your tears away as you go to put your shoes and bra back on, stepping out of the tub.
You look at yourself in the mirror. Mascara dripping down your cheeks, glitter smudged everywhere.
Fucking hell.
Did Sukuna get any glitter on him? Never mind. That's one extra problem for that dick head.
As you desperately try to fix your dress, your makeup, and your hair, you know there's only one thing you can't fix.
Words you heard just a few hours ago ring through your ears again and again, haunting you for the rest of the night.
ellievsbear
baratheonpilled
kaledo-art
romaincrisis
