Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader , Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Genre: Angst
Warning: Slow-burn, Major character death, angst, Female reader, no happy ending, manipulation (kind of), self doubt, curses spirit, description of wound, reader is a grade one sorcerer, reader is a teacher at Jujutsu high, Yuji is Sukuna’s vessel, this story is NOT based on the canon, English is not my birth language!
Synopsis: You died protecting your students after a mission went wrong—one made worse by Gojo Satoru’s harshness and the distance that grew between you both, leaving you hurt, frustrated, and ultimately alone when it mattered most. In death, you became Sukuna’s vessel, not as a curse, but as something in-between. Carrying the King of Curses within you while the world marks you as a disaster. All the while, Satoru refused to accept your loss, desperately trying to save you from Sukuna, and the consequences of a fate he believes he helped set it motion.
Your life at a Jujutsu High was good in the same way that surviving a natural disaster every day could technically be considered “good.”
The campus itself had become strangely familiar over he years, the old wooden hallways creaking beneath your shoes, the faint scent of incense drifting from the administrative offices, distant arguments echoing from the dorms at ungodly hours of the night. There was comfort in the routine, even if that routine consisted mostly of near-death experiences and emotional exhaustion.
Still, it was also a living hell.
There was always paperwork stacked high on your desk after missions, endless reports written in painfully formal language about curses that had nearly ripped someone’s limps off thirty minutes ago. Yaga somehow always knew the exact moment you planned to avoid doing them too. There was no escape.
And then there were the students.
You cared about them more than you wanted to admit, which only made the responsibility heavier. Watching over reckless teenagers with terrifying amounts of cursed energy felt less like teaching and more like tying to prevent disasters before they happened.
Yuji threw himself into danger without thinking.
Nobara argued with literally everyone.
Megumi looked permanently one inconvenience away from giving up on society entirely.
And somehow, despite all of that… the one thing that could genuinely make you lose your mind was still a single person.
Gojo Satoru.
The strongest sorcerer alive.
An invincible menace personally sent into your life just to test your patience.
———
The training grounds behind Tokyo Jujutsu High looked like a battlefield after a small war.
Chunks of broken concrete littered the courtyard in uneven piles, dust still drifting lazily through the air from the force of cursed techniques colliding moments earlier. Deep scorch marks carved jagged paths across the stone walls, and one unfortunate training dummy had been reduced to something barely recognizable.
Somewhere off the side, Panda was loudly accusing Inumaki if cheating during a card game while Maki threatened violence if they didn’t shut up.
Completely normal afternoon.
You stood near the center of the destruction, breathing harder than you wanted to admit. Your shoulders tense as remnants of cursed energy sparked faintly around your fingertips. Sweat clung irritatingly to the back of your neck, and your muscles ached from maintaining output for so long.
Across from you, Satoru sighed dramatically like he had just witnessed the most disappointing performance of his life.
“Wow,” he said, shoving both hands into his pockets as he surveyed the damage with exaggerated disappointment. “That was actually kind of pathetic.”
Your eye twitched immediately.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m serious,” his grin widened beneath the blindfold, infuriatingly amused. “If that curse had been any slower, it probably would’ve died of old age before your attack landed.”
“You told me not to destroy the building.”
“And you interpreted that as move like a dying grandmother?”
“You—”
You stopped yourself before the insult fully escape. Mostly because the last time you snapped at him during training, Yaga had somehow heard about it within the hour and assigned both of you joint supervision duty as punishment.
Which had only mage everything worse.
Satoru laughed openly now, shoulders shaking slightly with genuine amusement as he stepped over a massive crack running through the ground. The late afternoon sunlight caught against his silver white hair, making him look almost unfairly untouchable.
The strongest sorcerer alive stood there completely unharmed, not a single scratch or even a dust on his uniform.
Meanwhile, you looked like you’d survived an explosion.
You hated him a little for that.
Actually no.
A lot.
“Aw,” Satoru mocked sympathetically, tilting his head. “Are you getting mad?”
“No,” you answered flatly.
“You have that vein thing happening.”
“There is no vein thing.”
“There it is again.”
You inhaled slowly through your nose, counting backward from ten before murder became a reasonable option. Behind you, Yuji leaned closer to Megumi and whispered nervously, “Should we stop them?”
Megumi didn’t even glance up from his phone.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this happen everyday.”
Nobara crossed her arms with the exhausted confidence of someone who had accepted this dynamic long ago.
“Honestly, at this point I think they just enjoy arguing.”
“I do not enjoy arguing with him,” you snapped instantly. Satoru hearing that, he placed his hand over his heart in mock offense.
“Ouch.”
“Shut up.”
“There’s the aggression again.”
“You are the aggression.”
Yuji looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a high-speed tennis rally that had completely stopped following any know rules. His eyes darting so fast it was almost impressive in it’s own right. The way you and Satoru kept clashing and syncing in the same breath made the whole scene feel less like a normal conversation and more like some kind of bizarre, tense routine he had accidentally walked into.
“This feels weirdly married,” he blurted out, the words coming out before he could properly think then through, as if his brain had briefly diconnected from his mouth and left no supervision behind.
The entire courtyard froze so abruptly it was almost comedic. Both you and Satoru slowly turned towards him at the exact same time.
“WHAT?” You both snapped in unison, your voice overlapping so cleanly it somehow reinforced his point instead of denying it. Yuji immediately looked like a man who had just realized he’d step on a landmine labeled ‘social consequences,’ his expression draining of confidence in real time.
“Ah,” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head with exaggerated nervousness while already shifting his weight backward. “Sorry. Sorry! That came out wrong. I’m just gonna—uh—go train now. Yeah. Training.”
Without waiting for permission or further reaction, he grabbed Nobara by the sleeve in desperate attempt to escape
“Hey!—what the hell? Don’t drag me into your panic exit!” She protested loudly, her voice echoing across the courtyard as she was pulled along like an unwilling luggage.
Megumi followed a few steps behind them without saying a single word, his shoulder slightly slumped and his expression carrying the tired resignation of someone who had witnessed this exact kind of chaos enough times that it no longer surprising, only inevitable.
Eventually, the three of them disappeared, living behind a silence that felt heavier than it should have been.
For a brief moment, only the wind moved through the room, courtyard starring loose dust and grid across the crack pavement in slow drifting patterns the aftermath of training still lingering in the air. Scuff ground, scattered debris, and the faint tension of unfinished sparing.
You bent down and retrieve your weapon from the crown, brushing it off with a short, controlled motion, as if trying to reset the atmosphere along with it.
“Your footwork improved,” Satoru said suddenly, his tone casual enough that it almost sounded like an afterthought that rather than a genuine observation.
You paused mid-motion.
The comment landed unexpectedly, enough that you looked back at him before you could stop yourself. Suspicion and curiosity briefly outweighing irritation.
“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly as if expecting a follow up insult to immediately follow.
He shrugged with effortless nonchalance, hands loosely at his sides, as though offering praise was something that only happened to slip out of hin when he wasn’t paying attention.
“You adjusted faster this time,” he continued, his voice easy but precise. “Stopped relying on the brute force halfway through. You actually strated thinking instead of just swinging through it.”
For a second, your irritation didn’t know where to land. It’s soften just slightly, caught off guard by the fact that he had actually noticed something specific rather than just mocking you.
“You’re still predictable, though.”
There it was, right on cue.
The earlier flickered of calm snapped right back into place as annoyance surged up again like it had never left.
“You know,” you muttered, brushing the dust of your sleeve a little harder than necessary, “normal people manage to compliment someone without immediately following it up with an insult.”
Satoru tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering that statement, before responding without missing a beat. “Normal people also can’t vaporize buildings.”
He smile lightly, the usual teasing curve returning to his lips—but there was something different beneath it this time. Something quieter, less performative. His gaze lingered on you are second longer than it usually did, like he was measuring something he didn’t often say out loud.
“You’ve gotten stronger,” he said again, slower this time, the words landing with less humor attached.
Your chest tightened before you could stop it. Not because of what he said exactly—but because for a fraction of a second, there was no joke layered underneath it. No sarcasm. Just a clean, unguarded observation.
And that made it harder to dismiss.
Praise from Satoru was already rare enough to feel like an anomaly, but sincere praise—unfiltered, unshielded, felt almost disorienting coming from someone who stood so far above everyone else it was difficult to even define the distance.
Then—
“But you’re still nowhere near my level.”
The moment shattered instantly, like glass dropped onto concrete. You scoffed loudly, forcing the tension out of your expression as you turned away from him before he could catch anything real on your face.
“Arrogant asshole,” you muttered under your breath, already walking past him.
“Aw, c’mon,” he called after you lazily, voice returning to its usual playful ease as if nothing had shifted at all. “If I don’t humble you occasionally, who will?”
You didn’t answer him, mostly because if you opened your mouth right now, there was a very real possibility that whatever came out would be less of a sentence and more of a threat with punctuation.
The hallway leading back into the school felt noticeably cooler than the shattered heat of the training grounds, the polished wooden floor reflecting faint light as your footsteps echoed in a steady rhythm that tried, and failed, to drown out what had just happened behind you.
But your annoyance didn’t stay behind. It followed. It practically walked beside you.
You heard footsteps approaching from behind a moment later and immediately resisted the urge to sigh so hard it turned into a resignation speech.
Of course he was following you.
“You know,” Satoru said casually, matching your pace with infuriating ease despite the fact that you had never once invited him to walk beside you, “most people would consider themselves lucky if I offered to help them train personally.”
His voice carried that same effortless confidence it always did, as thought the possibility of anyone refusing such an offer had simply never occured to him. It wasn’t boastful in the conventional sense—he wasn’t trying to convince you of his worth.
He simply assumed you already knew, and you didn’t even bother looking at him.
Instead, you kept your eyes fixed ahead, your footsteps remaining steady along the stone path that wound through the quiet campus, pretending that if you ignored him long enough, perhaps he would eventually grow tired of entertaining himself at your expense.
He didn’t.
“Most people don’t have to tolerate your personality while they’re doing it.” You replied after a beat, your voice perfectly flat.
“Ouch,” he sighed. “That actually hurts.”
“I was aiming for it.”
His grin widened instead of fading. It was genuinely irritating how impossible it was to discourage him. Every insult seemed to amuse him more than the last, as though verbal sparring wasn’t something to avoid but something he actively looked forward to.
You finally turned your head just enough to give him an unimpressed look.
“Why are you even following me?”
He tilted his head slightly, his expression hidden behind the black blindfold that never seems to leave his face, though somehow you could still imagine the playful smile waiting underneath it.
“I’m bored.” The answer came so quickly that it almost sounded rehearsed. You sighed.
“Go bother Nanami.”
“I tried, and he told me to go die yesterday.” He pouted and you didn’t hesitate to bite back.
“Smart guy.”
Satoru burst into laughter immediately. It was not forced or offended. Just bright, genuine laughter that echoed lightly through the otherwise peaceful walkway, as though your response had been the funniest thing he’d heard all day instead of a blatant insult directed at him.
You watched him from the corner of your eyes for a moment before looking away again.
Sometimes—no, most of the time, you wondered whether there was anything in the world capable of getting under his skin.
Every jab rolled of him. Every sarcastic remark was answered with another joke, and every attempt to annoy him somehow became entertainment instead.
Maybe that was simply what happened when you spent years being told you were untouchable.
Being the strongest came bundled together with an unbearable amount of confidence, an almost reckless disregard foe how other people perceived him, and what often seemed like a complete inability to treat anything with the level of seriousness it probably deserved.
At least, that’s what he let everyone see.
The version of Gojo Satoru that most people know laughed too loudly, smiled too easily. Hid behind humor so naturally that it was almost impossible to tell where the act ended and the real person began.
“You really hate me that much?” The question slipped into the conversation so unexpectedly that it almost didn’t register at first.
His tone remained light, almost playful. Just like every other question he had thrown your way. If someone had been listening from distance, they probably would’ve assumed he was still joking.
Maybe he was.
But there was something different about it. Something quieter beneath the humor, something that lingered just long enough to catch you off guard.
Without realizing it, your steps slowed ever so slightly before instinct kicked in and you forced yourself to keep walking, refusing to let him noticed even the smallest hesitation.
You looked away first, the trees lining the pathway suddenly seemed far more interesting than the conversation unfolding beside you.
“You make it very easy,” you answered eventually. The words came out dry, almost automatic, carrying the same sarcasm you always used whenever he tested your patience.
Satoru didn’t answer. The silence that followed stretched between the two of you in a way that felt unfamiliar. It wasn’t comfortable, not exactly. There was no tension demanding to be broken, no pressure hanging in the air.
It simply existed. Quiet. Still.
Long enough for you to become aware of the sound of your own footsteps against the floor, the distant rustling of leaves overhead as the afternoon breeze drifted lazily through the trees, and the faint chorus of insects humming somewhere beyond the training grounds.
It was strange. Satoru almost never let silence linger. He always filled empty space with another joke, another ridiculous comment, another attempt to get a reaction of whoever happened to be nearby.
But this time, you get nothing.
Curiosity got the better of you, almost reluctantly, you glanced sideways. And he was already looking at you.
The blindfold concealed his eyes as always, leaving nothing for you to read, and yet somehow his expression still felt impossible to decipher. The easy grin that usually came so naturally to him had softened into something quieter.
More thoughtful.
For just a fleeting second, he didn’t look like the loudest person in every room he entered. He simply looked…. Human.
The realization tightened something unexpectedly in your chest before yo could stop it. Then he spoke, voice softer than before.
“You still keep up with m though.”
That make you frowned immediately.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
A tiny smile returned to his lips, not nearly as smug as usual.
“Nothing.”
The answer was accompanied by the familiar carefree shrug that made it seem a though the previous moment had never happened at all.
And just like that, the brief crack in whatever wall he kept around himself disappeared, the teasing expression slipped back into place so naturally that you almost questioned whether you had imagined the change in the first place.
You exhaled slowly through your nose.
“God,” you muttered, shaking your head lightly. “You’re unbelievably annoying.”
“You still hanging out with me though.” He replied with entirely too much satisfaction. His grin spread wider, the kind that only appeared when he’d somehow won a conversation despite having accomplished absolutely nothing.
It was infuriating and ridiculous, making you rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt.
Yet… despite the endless arguments that somehow became a daily occurrence and the constant irritation that seemed to follow wherever he went. Neither of you ever noticed that your footsteps had unconsciously fallen into the exact same rhythm.
Your pace never once quickened enough to leave him behind.
And for all his complaining about boredom, he never made any attempt to walk ahead of you, either.
——————————————————————————————————
You didn’t know why Satoru enjoyed bothering you so much.
At first, you had assumed it was just his personality.
Satoru teased and annoyed everyone. He ignored personal boundaries like they were optional suggestion. But with you, it felt different somehow.
More persistent.
It was like he paid far too much attention to you for someone who constantly acted uninterested in everything around him. Sometimes it genuinely felt like he watched your every movement like a hawk circling overhead, waiting patiently for the exact moment you made a mistake.
And the second you did—he appeared immediately.
You could miss a single step during training, hesitate for half a second in combat, or accidentally choose the wrong strategy during a mission briefing, and somehow Satoru would materialize beside you out of nowhere just to point it out with that unbearably smug grin stretched across his face.
“You’re leaning too much on your right side.”
“That reaction time was slow.”
“You telegraphed that attack from a mile away.”
“You seriously thought that would work?”
Every. Single. Damn. Time.
It was exhausting.
You had started to wondering if he spent his free time specifically searching for opportunities to criticize you. Which honestly wouldn’t even surprise you anymore.
You hated the way he constantly compared you to himself as if standing beside the strongest sorcerer alive was somehow a fair standard for anyone to meet. And somehow, even worse than that, he compared you to the other sorcerers too.
Nanami’s precision, Mei Mei’s efficiency, Kusakabe’s defensive instincts.
There was always someone better. Always another flaw for him to point out.
It didn’t matter how hard you trained beforehand or how well the mission actually went. He always found something lacking.
Your stance was weak, your timing was weak, your reactions were weak.
Everything about you felt weak in his eyes.
And no matter how often you rolled your eyes or snapped back at him, it still stung every single time. Because unlike him, you had not been born special. You were not blessed with overwhelming power that made the world bend around your existence.
Everything you had now came from clawing your way upward through years of brutal training, failed missions, injuries, sleepless nights, and constant pressure to survive i a world where weakness got people killed.
Becoming a Grade 1 Sorcerer had not been easy.
People looked t the title now and assumed talent, but they didn’t see the exhaustion behind it. They didn’t see how many times you had pushed yourself past your limits just to stand beside stronger sorcerers without becoming dead weight.
You remembered missions where your hands shook afterward from adrenaline. Nights where you collapse into your bed, too exhausted to even remove your uniform properly. The terrifying realization that one mistake during a fight could mean never coming home again.
You had worked for it, fought for it, sacrificed pieces of yourself for it.
And yet, every time Satoru casually tore apart your techniques with effortless criticism, doubt crawled back into your chest all over again.
Maybe you really weren’t enough.
Maybe all your effort looked pathetic compared o someone like him.
Maybe no matter how hard you trained, there would always be an impossible gap separating you from people born naturally powerful.
The thought frustrated you more than anything else. Because part of you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. That was what made his words hurt. If his criticism had been completely baseless, maybe you could have ignored it more easily. But Satoru noticed everything.
Every hesitation, weakness, and a tiny flaw hidden beneath your fighting style.
And he pointed them out mercilessly.
Sometimes during training, you caught him watching you from afar with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, head tilted slightly as though analyzing every movement you made. Observing.
Those moments unsettled you the most.
Because beneath all the teasing and arrogance, he was terrifying perceptive.
You wondered if he pushed you this hard because he genuinely expected you to improve. The possibility irritated you almost as much as the insults themselves. Because if there was one thing worse than being underestimated by Gojo Satoru.
It was desperately wanting his approval anyway.
————————————————————————————————
Rain hammered violently against the windows of Jujutsu High by the time you finally returned.
The storm had swallowed the entire campus in darkness, heavy clouds blotting out the evening sky while distant thunder rolled low enough to shake the old wooden beams overhead. Water dripped steadily from the ends of your har onto the polished floor beneath your feet, your soaked uniform clinging uncomfortably to your skin with every exhausted step forward.
Your shoulder burned.
No, burning wasn’t even the right word anymore.
It felt like someone had carved molten metal directly into your arm and left it there to smolder beneath your skin.
The torn fabric hanging near your shoulder was stiff with drying blood, dark crimson spreading unevenly across navy cloth. Every movement pulled painfully against bruised muscles and cracked ribs, and the mission report crushed tightly in your hand had long since become wrinkled beyond recognition.
A mission that no one cared enough to go, had always been dump to you.
A Grade 1 curse. That’s what they had called it.
A manageable mission, nothing outside your capabilities.
Except the curse had adapted too quickly, moved too fast. This thing should be called a Special Grade, not Grade 1.
And for one horrifying moment—you genuinely thought you were going to die. The memory still clung to you in fragments as you walked.
Your cursed technique destabilizing mid-fight. Concrete shattering beneath your body after being thrown through an entire building. The sickening crack of something in your side giving out on impact and the taste of blood flooding your mouth so suddenly you nearly choked on it.
And worst of all—that awful moment where fear finally settled into your chest. Not a fear of pain, but the fear that you weren’t strong enough.
Again.
The hallway outside Principle Yaga’s office was quiet except for the distant rumble of thunder and the soft dripping of rainwater from your clothes onto the wooden floor.
You barely managed three more exhausted steps before a familiar voice cut cleanly through the silence.
Of fucking course he was here, but you didn’t stop walking.
“Go away.”
“Aww,” he replied mockingly. “No greeting? After I came all the way out there to save you?”
Your grip tightened painfully around the mission report, turning around to faced him and there he was.
Hands shoved casually into his pockets, blindfold slightly damp from the rain. Standing there like this was another normal conversation instead of one of the worst nights you’d had in months.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” you muttered quietly, and that makes him scoffed behind you.
“Right, because getting thrown through two buildings was clearly part of your strategy.”
You froze mid-step. The exhaustion vanished beneath a sudden wave of humiliation. The fluorescent hallway lights reflected faintly off the water dripping from his hair as he looked back at you with frustrating calmness.
“You were watching?”
“I arrived before you got yourself killed,” he answered easily. “So yeah.”
The casualness in his voice made something sharp twist violently in your chest. Because the moment he arrived replayed in your head with unbearable clarity.
You remembered collapsing against broken concrete, struggling to breathe while blood ran down our face. The curse towering over you, laughing in your face, at your weak stance.
You remembered trying to stand despite your body screaming at you to stop. And then he appeared.
Untouchable, effortless, and overwhelming.
The entire fight ended in seconds after that.
The curse that nearly killed you had barely managed to touch him before being erased completely from existence.
Just like always.
“You know,” Satoru continued, voice sharper now beneath the teasing tone, “there’s a difference between confidence and stupidity.”
“I don’t need you to lecture me.”
“You pushed yourself too far against something you couldn’t’ handle.”
“And I handled it.”
“No,” He snapped immediately, the harshness in his voice hit like ice water and the hallway suddenly felt colder. “You survived long enough for me to fix it.”
The words landed harder than they should have. Not because they were cruel, but because you knew they were true. And that somehow hurt even more.
You stared at him silently while rain battered the windows behind him in uneven bursts.
Satoru ran his hand through his damp white hair with visible frustration.
“Why do you keep doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Acting like you have something to prove every single time you step into a battlefield.”
Your expression hardened immediately. Oh yeah, you forgot that he was the strongest sorcerer in the world. How could he understand what you’ve been through to pushed yourself this far?
“You think I can’t tell?” He continued, watching you carefully now. “You overworked yourself constantly trying to keep up with people stronger than you.”
And there it was. That familiar sting and humiliation buried beneath every conversation yo had with him.
Stronger than you.
Not enough.
Never Enough.
You laughed softly, but the sound came out bitter and exhausted.
“Right,” you muttered. “Sorry. I forgot who I’m standing next to.”
That made him frowned slightly, his brows pinched together.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Really?”
The pain in your shoulder pulsed violently now, but it barely registered beneath the anger rising steadily in your chest.
“You always do this,” you said quietly. “Every single time something goes wrong,” you continued, your voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it, “you stand there and remind me exactly how much weaker I am to you.”
“Because you never learn.”
“And you never stop looking down on everyone around you.”
The air shifted subtly between you, the tension thick enough to suffocate and his usual smile had disappeared completely now.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
The words should have comforted you. But no. Instead, they felt unbearable. Like it was pity and your chest tightened painfully.
“I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“Clearly you do.”
“Why is it huh? Tell me then. Because I’m too weak? Or is it because I’m not good enough?”
Satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration bleeding visibly into his expression now, even with his blindfold on, you can clearly see that he was frustrated.
“Because every mission with you turns into me cleaning up aftermath!”
Your eyes widen, your body froze and you can feel something inside you cracked. The second the words left his mouth, you saw it happen on his face too. That tiny flicker of realization. Like he suddenly understood immediately how cruel that sounded. But he didn’t take it back.
Instead, he kept talking like he physically couldn’t stop himself now that the words had started spilling out.
“Do you know how exhausting it is?” He dragged a hand over his face tiredly. “Every single time you get hurt, everyone expects me to save you.”
Because I don’t want to see you getting hurt.
Something hot and ugly twisted violently in your chest. Suddenly, all you could picture was every moment he’d ever looked disappointed in you. Every correction during training, every insult hidden inside his compliments.
Every reminder that you would never stand beside him as an equal.
And maybe the cruelest part—you had spent years trying anyway. And right now, it was getting exhausting.
“You know what?” You said softly. “Go fuck yourself, Satoru.”
For once, he looked startled.
You stepped closer before you could stop yourself. Your breathing felt uneven now, emotions clawing painfully against your ribs.
“Yeah,” you laughed bitterly. “I get it. You’re the strongest. Nobody compares to you. Nobody’s ever good enough next to you.”
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead.
Your throat burned. You hated this. Hated how vulnerable you suddenly sounded. Hated that your eyes stung with something dangerously close to tears. And most of all—you hated that he was the one making you feel this way.
“I worked for everything I have,” you continued shakily. “Do you have any idea how hard it was just to become a Grade 1 Sorcerer?”
Satoru said nothing, and that somehow hurt even more.
"You were born powerful" your voice cracked slightly now despite your efforts to steady it. "You were born special. But people like me-“
You swallowed hard.
"We don't get that luxury."
The hallway suddenly felt too small. Rain continued pounding violently against the windows, but even the storm sounded distant compared to the rushing noise inside your head
"I know I'm not the strongest," you admitted quietly. "I know I'll never be like you."
Your fingers curled tightly at your sides.
"But I'm so tired of feeling small every time I stand next to you."
That finally made something in his expression shift. You didn't know what it was, but you can see something shift in his body.
"I don't need you saving me every time things go wrong,” you whispered. "And I definitely don't need you treating me like I'm weak."
Satoru stared at you silently. For once in his life, he looked uncertain. Like he genuinely did not know what to say. And somehow-that made everything worse. Because if he argued back, if he laughed or even denied it, maybe this wouldn't hurt so badly
But he didn't.
He just stood there silently while you unraveled in front of him. And realizing far too late what his words had actually done to you over the years.
"So excuse me," you said quietly, forcing your voice steady despite the ache climbing into your throat. "I have a wound to tend to."
Then you turned sharply before he could answer.
Your footsteps echoed harshly through the empty hallway as you walked away. shoulders tense and vision blurring slightly from exhaustion and emotion.
You didn't look back. You didn't want to see his expression and you didn't think you could handle it if he pitied you right now.
Behind you, Satoru remained completely motionless.
The hallway felt unbearably empty after you disappeared around the corner. Rain continued tapping softly against the windows. Thunder rolled low in the distance.
And for the first time in a very long while,Satoru felt something unfamiliar settle heavily in his chest. Not guilt exactly, but something worse.
Because you yelling at him wasn't unusual. You'd done that countless times before.
But this…this was different.
Tonight, there had been no exaggeration in your voice. No dramatic anger. No playful irritation hidden underneath the insults.
You had meant every single word. You genuinely believed he looked down on you. And standing there alone in the quiet hallway, he realized with growing horror that maybe, Without meaning to—He had spent years making you feel that way.
——————————
A/N: Thank you you all for reading, I really appreciate it so much🥺💕 Leave any comments if you like, stay tuned for the next part!!
Synopsis: abandoned at the foot of a mountain in hopes of winning the favour of the Curse King, you have to navigate life as his bride, constantly fearing death, torture, and being eaten out— up. being eaten up. definitely up.
right?
Warnings: porn with plot, dark romance, forced marriage, true form!sukuna - 2 peepees!, cunnilingus (he's a certified munch), use of curse mouth, blood play, masochist!sukuna, pussyjob, thigh job, death/violence/body parts, primal play, dubcon, double penetration, upside down 69, hair pulling, brief spanking, pussy slapping, biting, outdoor sex, bondage, shadow tentacles?, period sex, multiple orgasms, honestly not as dark as it sounds — this is quite romantic I promise, angst, fluff (soft!kuna), not quite curse au in the canon sense, f!reader, not proofread
Word Count: 16.9k
A forced marriage with Sukuna, the king of curses, sounds like hell.
And it is.
The village chief wanted to receive the newly arrived Curse King’s mercy and be spared from his tyranny. That apparently meant offering you, his only daughter, up for marriage. You were dropped off at the foot of the mountain, bound and gagged, unable to scream for help, not that any would arrive.
Not even your best friend, Suguru, had met your eyes.
Everyone had abandoned you.
A servant, dignified and aloof, came. They, with their white hair stained with crimson, took one look at you before making a silent decision.
Carried by goblin-looking creatures inside the mountain, which parted as though unhinging its jaw, you could do nothing but accept that you were going to be eaten up by the very monsters that children were warned about.
Navigating the carved out hallways of the mountain, they threw you in the throne room. Jagged stone walls surrounded you. Glowing red rocks were embedded in the rocks and lit torches illuminated the grand space. You were laying on the rolled out red carpet, staring up at a giant of a being.
There he was.
Sukuna Ryomen.
He was resting his head on one of his four arms, legs crossed, with all four eyes gazing down at you. He looked bored.
“What is this?” he drawled.
The same servant you first met stepped up, head bowed humbly. They said, “Entertainment, my Lord.”
“Entertainment?” the king repeated, tasting the word. “Not a snack? Interesting. How, pray tell, will this woman entertain me, if not with the taste of her flesh, Uraume?”
It was an absurd situation — they were discussing you as if you weren’t there, as if you didn’t have ears, as if you were a pet the servant had picked up as a gift. Although, it was at least a small blessing that you hadn’t been killed on the spot, you supposed. The thought, however, didn’t permit much relief when unimaginable torture could have awaited you.
‘Uraume’ answered, “The humans intended for her to be your wife, my Lord. Perhaps you could humour them with brief belief that they have been spared from their inevitable fate.”
At that, Sukuna hummed.
His eyes met your own then. They inspected you through your very soul. You felt their branding touch rifling through your essence. Something passed in them, something to which you could not put words.
Finally, he waved a lazy hand, and said, “Very well.”
The servants rushed to take you away, afraid to waste a single second.
You’ve been living in a room somewhere in the heart of the mountain since.
It’s been about a week.
Meals on a tray are served to you three times a day. Porridge, fruits, bread, the sorts. You do your best not to eat much; they might have poisoned it.
Every day, every hour, is spent anticipating the wooden doors being kicked down, waiting for the Curse King to forgo delaying your fate and slicing your head off your shoulders with one, clean cut. So far, nothing yet.
In fact, you have not seen another soul since.
The first night, you couldn’t sleep, afraid that he would take the villagers up on the offer to make you his real bride, by plunging his cock into you and stealing your maidenhead. It didn’t, and hasn’t, happened. But ‘yet’ looms over you perpetually.
Your one consolation is that sleep comes to you easily now.
It’s all you can do — the room is barren of books, of people, of art. Only a bed, a table, and a chamber pot with a bucket of water decorate it. There are no windows with which you can view the outside world, can tell what time of day it is, can escape through, or jump off. Only your body’s natural instincts inform you when morning and time to slumber has arrived.
Though…
With the days blurring, and perpetual and dim light of the glowing rocks remaining unchanged, it’s beginning to grow more and more difficult to tell left from right.
The doors are unlocked.
That was the first thing you tested when you were placed here.
Of course you’ve considered walking out of the room, if only to have a change of scenery. You’ve also considered escaping. But your thoughts would always end up at ‘escaping to where?’
You’ve been abandoned by your village, by your family. They would not accept you. They would see your return as a sign that the Curse King had rejected their sacrifice and would be coming to collect the debt. In other words, you’d be seen as a bad omen.
It was your destiny to die, whether by the hands of your family or by the hands of the beast they were afraid of.
So if death is a certainty, why would you fear it?
That’s the final thought that pushes you out of bed and to the door. Your hand hesitated for a second. Then it was sure. You opened it, body tense.
No one’s outside. No guard, no goblins, no king.
You pad out, feet bare and wearing only a nightgown. How deep inside the mountain are you, you wonder. There’s a draught blowing past, but no sound of the forest to fill the space. No voices. No footsteps. No life.
“Where is everyone?” you mutter, padding forward.
Who can say how long you wander through the tunnels?
It feels like it’s been hours, though with the way time seems to pass differently, it could also have only been mere minutes.
Eventually, you spot light coming from a hollow in the walls. Carefully and with bated breath, you peer inside.
Steam wafts over your face.
It’s warm — startlingly so against the chill that seems to cling to every corridor of the mountain. You hesitate again, also only a moment before stepping inside.
The ceiling arches high above, rough stone glistening with condensation, droplets forming and falling in slow, steady rhythms that echo softly in the space. The air is thick, humid, curling around your skin. It tickles.
At the centre of the chamber lies a pool.
It’s set into a wide, uneven basin in the ground. The water glows faintly from beneath, lit by the same red-veined stones embedded along the walls, but here their light is softened, diffused through the steam until it casts everything in a hazy, molten glow.
The surface of the water ripples lazily, disturbed by unseen currents, by the quiet bubbling from somewhere deep below. Heat rises from it in waves, beckoning, almost inviting.
Who knew something like this existed inside a mountain?
Carefully, you approach the edge of the pool, crouching slightly as you extend a hand. Your fingers hover for a second before dipping into the water.
Hot.
But not scalding.
“A bath,” you mumble, smiling.
Here, of all places.
The servants had given you a bed to sleep on, a table to eat at, and a pot to do your business in that seemed to be cleaned out magically without you ever seeing anyone. What they hadn’t granted, however, is the luxury of a bath. Only a bucket to and a rag to clean yourself with.
You glance back toward the tunnel, as if half-expecting someone, something, to be watching. But there’s nothing and no one. Only the distant drip of water and the low hum of the mountain breathing around you.
Your reflection stares back at you from the shifting surface, blurred by steam and movement. The quiet stretches.
If you’ll be killed for stepping outside your room, at least you’ll die clean and fresh.
Shrugging off your nightgown, you dip your toe in the water, then your leg and the other, and soon you’re fully emerged.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you moan, letting the water soothe the aches in your bones. You sink deeper. The heat swallows you whole, up to your shoulders, then your chin. Your eyes flutter shut as you tilt your head back, strands of your hair clinging damply to your skin.
For a moment, just a moment, you forget. Forget the mountain, the monsters, the fate waiting patiently for you somewhere in its depths. The tension bleeds out of your limbs, your breathing slowing, evening out as the warmth seeps into you.
You drift, arms floating lazily at your sides.
A soft sigh escapes you. This is just like swimming in the lake near the village, except it’s warm and lovely and soothing.
It’s…peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Your eyes open.
Something feels…off suddenly. The water, once gently lapping, stills in a way that isn’t natural. The faint bubbling from below seems to deepen, shift. Like something moving far beneath the surface.
Your body goes rigid.
Slowly, you glance down. The water is dark there. Deeper than it should be. The glow from the stones doesn’t quite reach the bottom — it falls away into shadow, into something that looks less like a pool and more like a pit.
A pit that could swallow you whole.
Your breath catches.
“…Hello?” you call softly, though you don’t know why.
The surface trembles.
Something moves.
Your heart lurches into your throat. Instinct kicks in before thought does. You turn sharply, water sloshing as you begin to move, arms cutting through the surface, making for the edge.
Too slow.
Something clasps your ankle.
A gasp tears right through you, kicking hard, panic surging white-hot through your veins. “No!”
It coils.
Grabs.
Your leg is yanked downward with terrifying force.
The world flips. Water crashes over your head as you’re dragged under, your scream swallowed instantly. You thrash, clawing at nothing, lungs burning whilst bubbles tear from your mouth. Your hands grasp blindly, trying to find purchase, to find anything.
A shape.
A body.
You strike it. Push against it. Kick, struggle, fight with everything in you, nails scraping against something solid, unyielding.
Then it lets go.
You don’t wait.
You surge upward, breaking through the surface with a ragged gasp, coughing, choking on water as you scramble for the edge. Your hands slap against the stone, slipping once before catching, dragging yourself up just enough to cling to it. Your whole body trembles violently.
Air. You need air.
You suck it in greedily, chest heaving, water dripping from your lashes as your eyes dart wildly across the pool. “W-what…” you choke out, voice shaking.
A sound answers you. A low, amused exhale.
Your blood runs cold. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head.
He’s here.
The King of Curses.
Sukuna lounges against the inner ledge of the pool as though he’s always been there. One arm is slung lazily over the stone behind him, another resting loosely at his side, droplets sliding down the planes of his skin. And the remaining two are folded under the water.
He’s watching you.
No, observing you.
That smirk curls at his lips, sharp and satisfied, eyes glinting with something dark and entertained. “Well,” he drawls, voice echoing low against the stone walls, “your floundering was amusing.”
“W-why,” you begin, gulping air and frantically shoving the wet hair clinging away from your face, “why did you do that?”
A hum floats through the air, carried by the steam. It sweeps your skin. Sukuna says, “Because I could.” Then he barks a laugh. “When I came here to wash the stink of my latest massacre, I did not expect to find a human bathing in my onsen. How brazen of you.”
When he snaps his fingers together, you flinch.
Uraume appears.
Their head is downcast. They don’t look at your body, which you suddenly remember is bare and visible through the clear water. You throw your arms over your private parts.
“Who is this woman and why have you not killed her upon her first step of trespass?” he asks his servant. Sukuna doesn’t sound mad. Only curious.
“Because she is your bride, my Lord.”
You flinch at the term.
Sukuna barks a laugh again. “My bride? My bride! How comical that I would forget I have one.” He turns to you, eyes narrowing in with interest. “Why have you only now appeared before me?”
Gulping, you tentatively answer, “I did not think you would want to see me. And I’m sorry I intruded—”
“Wise,” he says, one of his massive arms running through his wet hair. “I am not usually fond of seeing humans; you are all so hideous and constantly quivering in my presence.”
There’s no possible way to reply to that, not without getting your blood spilled for insolence.
He stands upon the ledge and exits the pool.
He’s completely naked, as you are. His broad back, the impressive muscles that make it up, the perfectly symmetrical tattoos. He turns. His cocks swings with the movement. You quickly avert your eyes, cheeks warm.
If Sukuna notices that you noticed, he doesn’t say. Only, “Try not to drown — my pet swims beneath but he has already had his fill. Do not fatten him with your flesh.”
When you hurriedly climb out, squealing, his laughter echoes, filling the space even once his body, and his servant’s, have left.
You kneel on the smooth ground, panting, soaked and dripping, and thinking one thing:
The Curse King has a sense of humour.
And two giant cocks.
.
.
.
The next day, you find yourself back at the pool.
You tell yourself it’s simply because you want to bathe, but perhaps if you were more honest with yourself, you’d accept that maybe you were curious to see if he’d be there.
And he is.
Sukuna leans against the very same ledge he had been yesterday. He watches your every move, from when you first step in, to when you shyly shrug off your nightgown, and when you submerge yourself in the warm water.
Something has brought you here.
A pull you could not deny.
Thinking too much about it gives you a headache, so you let your body move on its own, unhindered by logic, by your mind’s concerns. You want to bathe, to be clean. He hadn’t killed you yesterday, and that counts for something.
Of course, you know the smart thing to do would be to not push it, to understand that two run-ins with him that didn’t lead to immediate death doesn’t mean a third would end the same, to count your blessings.
But…
Bath.
He says nothing, only runs a finger across the seam of his lips as his eyes drink up every shift of your body.
Boldly, albeit shakily, you ask, “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”
Sukuna’s eyes glint.
“I wonder the same thing myself.”
That’s not an answer, you note. But you don’t poke, scared if you do, if you push your limits more than you already have, he’ll snap your head as easily as he had snapped his fingers.
The way his eyes pin you down on the ledge opposite him has you squirming in your seat. It’s too intense. Too strong. Too dizzying. So you try to pretend it’s not cascading down the skin visible to him; you push forward, wading in the water. You stare at the ceiling, at the distance, at the darkness of the depths, at anything but him.
“My village offered me as sacrifice,” you remind him. “Will you spare them?”
Somewhere, he lazily replies, “I have yet to decide.”
Humming, as though you thought as much, you wonder aloud, “What will you do with me? I cannot imagine that the King of Curses would find much use in a human wife.”
“No, neither can I,” Sukuna drawls.
On and on, you swim. Arms cut through the water in slow, steady strokes, legs kicking behind you in a rhythm that’s begun to feel automatic. There’s no sense of direction, no shore to aim for, just the endless stretch of water surrounding you, thick and quiet, swallowing any sound you might make. Time slips, dissolves, until all that remains is movement for the sake of movement.
Then, as you turn, your hand meets something solid.
The impact is soft but jarring, your palm flattening instinctively against it. A wall. Smooth, unmoving, impossibly present where there had only ever been open water.
You gasp.
Sukuna stands behind you.
The bottom of the pool had risen. You still cannot reach it, but you’re aware that if you tried to, the water’s surface would be just above your head. The pool is under his command, bending to his will. How incredible.
Bare, wet skin meets bare, wet skin.
The heat of his body is hotter than that of the water.
He doesn’t step away despite how the water seems to be pushing you to him.
How did he get to you so fast? Last you saw, he was still sitting on the ledge. No, perhaps the better question is, why had he moved closer to you at all?
Hands grab your ribs. You gasp. They’re firm, callused. Burning.
“Wife?” he repeats, wide smirk revealing rows of flesh-tearing teeth. “You are not my wife. You are my bride. I am sure even a puny, little thing like you understand that there is a process to be followed, yes?”
A nail flicks your nipple under the water.
You let out a shuddery breath.
The other two hands grip the back of your thighs, lifting them till they’re wrapping around his hips. The top half of your body has emerged from the water, water dripping down. You throw your arms around his neck, a reflex to grab onto something before you fall.
Breasts presses to his chest. He must feel how hard your nipples are. You’re flushed with embarrassment, and an acute awareness of how much bigger his own body is to yours — if he wanted to, he could crush you with his bare hands.
Sukuna’s sharp fangs glint at the very peaks as he runs his tongue over them. “For you to be my wife, we would have to observe tradition. Do you understand what I refer to, little human?”
Breathless, you answer with your own question: “Do you refer to the wedding night, my Lord?”
One of his cocks pokes your entrance. You tense up.
You’ve seen their size; they are inhumanly big. They could not fit inside you, not without the preparation that the women in your village had giggled about, perhaps not even with.
But he doesn’t shove it inside you all in one go.
He doesn’t shove it inside at all.
The king merely slides you down his body, just a little, until that cock is sandwiched between your bodies.
It bumps a good spot on your cunt. You gasp.
“I do,” Sukuna says, huffing in amusement at your reaction. “I admit I have not been married before myself, but it is one aspect I am curious about.”
His strong hands are moving you up and down, testing every little sound that leaves your lips. And you’re letting him.
Is there something in the water? Some elixir that’s making you susceptible to his whims? An aphrodisiac stimulating wetness out of your pussy?
He must feel it, must feel how it drips down his length. Just like how you can feel the prominent veins of a cock that’s grown fully erect without you noticing. How long has he been like this? Since you walked in? Before?
Your nipples are scraping his chest. The sensation has you arching closer to him, grip around his body tightening. “M-my Lord!”
Sukuna tuts, moving you up and down like you’re a mere toy for his pleasure. He scolds, “That is not my name.”
“Sukuna?” you experimentally mutter the words. His cock throbs. You both groan. “S-something’s happening.”
Hips moving on their own, you feel as though you’ve been possessed. Your body is no longer your own — some invisible thing is urging you to grind down on his cock, on that burning heat between you, rubbing your clit on his flushed cockhead, on the veins that run up and down his length.
Humming, he says, quite distracted, “Yes. Something is. Allow it to happen. Do not fight it.”
This is pleasure you’ve never felt before. Pleasure you didn’t know truly existed. The women in your village always spoke of sexual pleasure as something only for men, joy a girl would be lucky to experience even once, if their partner was generous and not selfish, which was apparently rare.
Yet, here is, grinding your clit on the veins of his cock.
He licks his lips. “Go on, little human. Give it to me.”
With a loud moan, you throw your head back. Spasms wrack your body. A heady explosion warms your belly. Spurts of something even warmer paint your chest and stomach.
Sukuna grunts, fingers digging into the plush of your ass.
“Fuck.”
Your head falls back on his chest, slumping with sudden languishness. You pant. His chest rises with his own heavier breaths.
Coming back into your own senses, you tense. Then push away. He lets you.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, in near tears from shame. “Please forgive me, my Lord.”
You wade back, further and further away from him. Blood has pooled in your cheeks. What have you done? If he wasn’t going to kill you before, he certainly will now that you’ve defiled his body.
He pays you no mind. The water around his still body ripples. Sukuna grunts. Sucks in a harsh breath. Water laps at his contracting abdomen. Furious. Violent. You cannot tear your eyes away from the sight.
Oh god…he’s tugging furiously at his other cock whilst the other floats. His own spend is drying on his chest.
Mouth watering, you almost step forward to offer a hand.
But you don’t.
Instead, you turn around and make a run back to your room.
.
.
.
You haven’t returned to the pool. Not once in the week that passed.
He might not have killed you but one thing’s certain: you do not want to run into him again.
Especially now that you’ve caught his attention. Reminded him of your existence. Which is as one would expect: worse than being forgotten. So, so, so much worse.
For, every day since the meeting at the pool, he’s taken to dropping off severed limbs at your door. Still warm. Still bleeding. Often twitching. First it was a big toe. Then a whole foot. A finger. A hand. An arm.
And today, a head.
A scream shook the walls once your eyes landed on the thing.
Your scream.
Perhaps it’s adrenaline that urges every stomp your feet make. Perhaps anger or indignation. Whatever it is, it has you near-running through the halls, searching in every hollow for him.
An almost full circle has been carved at the very end of one tunnel you stumble down. Vines creep out of it. You step inside, heaving, and with fists balled at your side.
A garden.
It stretches farther than your eyes can follow, lush and sprawling, like the earth itself had been coaxed open and persuaded to bloom in defiance of everything you thought you knew about this place. The ceiling arches high above, fractured in places where thin shafts of pale light filter through, catching on drifting pollen and casting the entire space in a soft, dreamlike haze.
The air is warm here. Heavy with scent.
Sweet. Overripe. Almost intoxicating.
It’s not a human garden, you can tell immediately; the grass is black, as is the soil, and the roots which emerge from the ground are red. Things that couldn’t exist in the same place do, cohabiting quite well.
Flowers you’ve never seen before crowd the ground in wild abundance — petals like silk and flame, some translucent, others so dark they seem to drink in the light. Vines coil and twist up natural pillars of stone, heavy with blossoms. Leaves skim against your legs as you step forward, wide and waxy, or delicate as lace, each one foreign.
“How…?” you whisper, though there is no answer. It shouldn’t have been possible to have a whole forest inside a mountain. But then again, a great many things shouldn’t have been possible, yet they are.
The path, if it can even be called that, winds forward through the growth, barely visible beneath the encroaching green. It feels endless. Like you could spend your entire life sprinting down the path and never make it to the end.
There, some distance ahead, partially obscured by the curtain of hanging vines, a figure moves.
You freeze.
Bare feet press against the dark soil, soundless. A loose robe hangs from his shoulders, open just enough to reveal the breadth of his chest and the markings etched into his skin stark against the softness of the garden around him. One hand drags idly along the leaves as he walks.
“Hello, little bride.”
It still surprises you that he can utter the word so casually. You don’t flinch this time however. You only glower and maintain the distance. “Why have you been giving me body parts?” you interrogate, grateful that your voice is as firm as when you had rehearsed.
Sukuna lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Why have you not stepped foot outside your room since?”
He resumes walking.
Toward you.
Each step is unhurried, deliberate, crushing petals beneath his feet without a second thought. The garden seems to part for him, bending subtly to his presence, vines shifting, leaves snaking aside in quiet submission.
You don’t move.
You tell yourself you won’t.
Your pulse stutters anyway.
“You fear me,” Sukuna observes, like he’s stating something obvious. His eyes drag over you, taking in every inch, every subtle shift in your breathing, the way your fingers curl tighter at your sides. “And yet you came looking.”
“Because I want to know why you’ve been giving me body parts,” you snap.
“Mm.”
He’s closer now.
Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, even in the thick, perfumed air of the garden. Close enough that you can see the faint sheen of moisture still clinging to his skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the loose fall of his robe.
Another step.
Instinct finally kicks in; you shift back, just one pace.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I was curious.”
Your brows knit. “About what?”
“How long it would take,” he says lightly, “for you to stop hiding.” A finger traces the curve of your cheek. You hold your breath, staring up at him, waiting for his next move. Sukuna mutters, “How odd that your scent would be so much sweeter than the flowers that grow here. It makes me wonder.”
Why is heat travelling down your body? Why aren’t you running away, revolted by his touch or the gravel in his voice? Were you still thinking about the feel of his body against yours, both naked, in the pool? Of the cocks whose soft lengths had been engrained in your mind?
His nostrils flare.
A flash in his eyes.
“There it is,” he rasps. “A scent I could not escape, so much more potent now.”
In a blink of an eye, you’re flipped over, dangling in the air. He has you by the ankle, lifted high up.
You grab onto his robe, which has parted. Right in front of you is his cock. Both of them. Neither soft now. Definitely not soft. One smacks you right against the face. It leaves a wet mark.
The musk of a refined monster hits you. It’s…it’s addictive. Your mouth waters again, stronger this time than the time at the pool now that they’re so much closer to you. Irresistible.
Sukuna presses a nose to the apex of your thighs. Skin on skin. You jolt.
Your dress had fallen down your body, ballooning around your face. You hold the material away — he can see everything. That fact has you aware that you can see him too. The thickness of his cocks, the lengths rivalling your forearm, the weight of the balls beneath. Everything about him is massive. Intended to subjugate. Designed to dominate.
“You are already wet. Soaked,” he muses, thoroughly humoured. He rubs his nose on your clit, nuzzling the little bud. You dig your nails into his thighs. “Filthy, little human.”
That’s all he says before he licks a stripe through your slit.
“Sukuna!”
“Mm. Dessert. Just in time.”
The beast licks and laps and sucks. It isn’t anything like the women at the village described — men are supposed to be reluctant, they’re supposed to be frightened. Sukuna isn’t. He’s consuming your juices as though starved, needing nourishment.
In front of you, something emerges from his skin.
A wolfish grin.
There’s a mouth on his stomach, lips curled up and teeth gleaming. You scream, fighting to get out of his tight hold.
SMACK!
Sukuna slapped your ass. A dull heat blossoms on the flesh. He commands, “Stay still. I cannot dine when you worm like so.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Cruelly, he lays short slaps right on your clit, sending juices splashing onto your skin. The way his palm sticks, the sloppy noises, it's all so degrading. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s revelling in your clear desire for him.
You’re almost too distracted by the sight of a second, bigger mouth. Almost. But nothing can truly, wholly tear your attention away from the sucking of your clit and the way a fire is being lit in your very core. Soon, a thick tongue finds your entrance and buries itself inside. Your eyes roll back.
A hot, wet thing slides up the valley of your breasts. Slithering. Testing. Tasting.
The mouth, you realise. It’s sticking its fat tongue out, licking your breasts the way Sukuna’s face mouth is licking the inside of your cunt, stretching your walls, teasing the pleats there.
“Delicious,” one of them says. You can’t tell which. So much is happening at once. Too many to process.
At your lips, one of his cockheads smears its seed. You lick your lips. It’s salty. Eyes fixed on the frighteningly red thing, you open your mouth to suckle at it. That familiar possession has returned. You’re being controlled by an invisible force — your jaw has to widen to take the bulbous head. Your tongue runs over the tip, where there’s a slit.
Sukuna groans, pleased. Then he growls, “Do not neglect the other.”
Slightly afraid, you do as he says. The other cock is just as hard, just as big and long as the one you’re sucking on. It throbs approvingly when you tug on it.
“Good,” he groans out. “Very good, little bride.”
Obscene squelches are coming from above. It’s a reminder of how wet you are for him. Of how delirious the pleasure is. Of how you aren’t disgusted by the magical tongue flicking your tits, playing with the mounds, running the tip of it over your nipples. You’re not disgusted by the salty taste of him, of how he seems to be constantly leaking.
He’s lapping up at your pussy so furiously that he makes frustrated, wrathful sounds; he’s mad that you’re not producing enough wetness to match the pace in which he’s drinking it up.
“More,” he commands. “Give me more. Now.”
Sukuna pushes his face closer, uncaring of the fact that you’re making a mess all over his cheeks. He only has one thing on his mind.
“I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, mouth full and words garbled. The unfamiliar word leaves your lips so naturally you think you’d been warning him all your life of your impending orgasm.
Unfortunately, the warning is wasted. You don’t think he even hears the words with your thighs muffling his ears.
“Sukuna!”
The very same feeling, the same sensations, as the time in the pool rushes through you. Bolts of lightning thrum beneath the surface of your skin. You shudder, moaning lewdly.
He doesn’t stop. If anything, he’s only emboldened by the juices overflowing out of you. Slurrrrrping! so animatedly. So viciously. So animalistically.
A feral beast sucking your sensitive clit into another orgasm only minutes later.
It’s too much. It almost hurts. You slap at his meaty thigh. That seems to snap him out of his mania.
In a flash, you’re flipped back upright. Blood descends down your body. Lightheaded, your knees weaken. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms all while he’s collecting as much of your juices off his skin he can reach with his tongue.
Thud…thud…thud…
Sukuna strolls through the garden and back out into the rocky halls, robe discarded. Your dress is soaked with a mix of your juices, sweat, and his saliva. You’re filthy. He doesn’t complain.
Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallways to witness the remnants, of the proof, of your mutual debauchery.
“I have never considered myself as having a sweet tooth,” Sukuna begins, musing to himself, “but now I believe I would very much like to have dessert after every meal. What do you say, little human?”
“Hmm,” you sleepily hum.
“Then we are in agreement,” Sukuna concludes, pleased.
Your eyes flutter shut, too tired to keep them open. Before you fall into slumber, you feel a bed much softer than you remember cushion your body.
A hardness flanks you.
You dream of many hands brushing your hair, patting your hip, rubbing your belly, and tracing your cheek.
.
.
.
Since you’ve come to accept your odd relationship with the King of Curses, you’ve been spending an awful amount of time with him lately.
It started off with him keeping you in his room.
It’s a much nicer room than yours. Infinitely so. Almost triple the size and more lavishly decorated — a huge bed with silk sheets and a canopy with deep velvet curtains, a plush rug, dark red orchids in intricate and complex positions upon a table, paintings of different moments in time of human suffering that concerningly do not bother you.
You always find yourself back in here.
Whenever you wander through the halls, the walls seem to shift. They lead you back to his room. At first you were hesitant to enter, and you’d try to go a different way, but the caves insisted.
He isn’t here ever.
So you’ve started to think of it as your own.
During meal times, that’s when you’d see Sukuna.
Uraume would often escort you out of the room and into the dining hall. Another enormous space. You’d dine with him, and only him. There’d be curses posted inside, but they always step out, to give you privacy you assume. Naturally, these mealtimes were awkward for you in the beginning.
Sukuna didn’t speak. Not at first. He would just watch you eat, which only made you feel more awkward.
You were the one who broke the silence. “Are you… are you not going to eat, my Lord?” you asked tentatively.
A devious grin came upon his face. Happy he won a competition you didn’t know you signed up for. He replied, “I will. I am simply fattening up my pig before I devour her.”
Heat flushed through you. Cutlery clinking against the fine china, you gulped. There was a dangerous awareness of the darkness of his eyes feasting upon your flesh — you felt its weight sliding down the plumpness of your cheeks, the length of your neck, your collarbones, and your breasts which threatened to spill out from the confines of your dress.
Perhaps fear should have overtaken you at that moment.
Only relief and desire did.
What set you on edge most was not knowing what he wanted from you, why he had Uraume collect you, why he was wasting his time here when he could be doing kingly duties.
Now that he had made clear what he was seeking, you could allow yourself to rest easy and actually taste the food you were shovelling into your mouth.
“I am the pig in question?”
“Yes,” he replied immediately. A hand shoved a plate of pancakes towards you, encouraging. “You certainly squeal like one.”
Frowning, and pushing the plate away because you have too much to eat already, you argued, “I do not.”
“Do too,” he said, pushing the plate back towards you.
“Do not!”
An arm wrapped around your waist faster than you could see. Another swiped the food off the table. Everything fell with cacophonous clangs and bangs and splats!
Sukuna placed you on the table, which was now bereft of food. Your back met the hard wood. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders. Dress hiked up your waist. You were bared to him. Two of his callused hands yanked you closer to his face. Those four eyes, all scarlet and glinting up at you, didn’t look away.
He wanted you to watch him take a long whiff of your cunt.
His grip tightened on you once your scent hit him with full force. His eyes rolled back. Sukuna snarled, “Let’s see which of us is right.”
There were no soft kisses upon your sensitive skin, no caresses. Only unrestrained feasting. He immediately latched onto your clit, sucking on the thing with a fury. You cried out.
The king was frightening in his aggression.
He was gulping down every drop your pussy produced to please him, and it wasn’t nearly enough. Terrifying growls shook the table.
Sukuna seemed addicted to making your cunt let out vulgar squelchessss!
They came in quick succession. One after the other. Loud and clear. Displaying how well he was playing with your clit.
“Look at how your cunt flutters, searching for my cocks,” he mused, thumbing the entrance but not pushing in. “And look how your petals have grown swollen with blood. Oh, I bet your blood tastes as good as your pussy. We’ll test that too, another day.”
Stammering, you pleaded, “Don’t look!”
He stared too intently. Saw too much. It was more intimate than being tasted.
“Nonsense,” Sukuna said, waving you off. “I will look as I please, and I very much do.”
In response to his renewed lapping of your juices, you could only writhe and run your nails down the wood for anything to ground you.
“Do not waste your claws on the table,” he spat, spare hands snatching your ups and offering his wrists for you to dig into. You hesitated, chest heaving and vision swimming. Then he asked, “You do not find my flesh good enough to mark? You wish to offend your groom when he is at the altar of your legs?”
You didn’t want to know what he was like when he was offended so you clung to his thick wrists. You made a mental note not to actually scratch him — that seemed a more criminal act than offending him – but the pleasure born from his ravishing of your pussy bordered on pain and you could not help yourself.
The very moment your nails caught on his skin and broke through, one of the hands that was keeping your shaking legs apart darted out. It landed on your chest. With brutish finesse, it ripped your bodice. Cool air grazed over your breasts. That hand latched onto a tit.
“W-what– Oh God!” you screamed.
Something…
Something on his palm was suckling your nipple, like a babe.
Sukuna’s amused huff vibrated through your pussy, sending shivers up your spine. “No, not God, little bride. It is me. My mouth is making you feel good. But,” he adds after a little thought, “I do not mind being worshipped as a deity, heh.”
How could he be so nonchalant when two sets of mouths were eating you up, when your eyes were at risk of being permanently lodged at the back of your head? How could he make conversation so easily when his tongue, which felt so impossibly long, was wriggling through your walls and teasing the entrance to your womb? When the mouth at his palm was suctioning your nipple into that impossible space?
“Delicious,” he snarled, positively starved of your taste. “So fucking sweet. How can a human be so…so…divine? It defies nature.”
He wasn’t talking to you anymore. He was manically muttering to himself, reasoning with his own understanding of the balance of life. It baffled him. Bewildered him. Excited him. Sukuna could not get enough of you.
Whining, you called out his name, “S-Sukuna! It’s too -hngh!- much. I can’t.”
“Cum,” he said.
Your head shook, thrashed. “No, I -hah- can’t!”
“Cum,” he repeated. No, commanded. Ordered. Demanded.
And you could not deny a king.
You fell apart on the dining table with a scream. Wetness rushed out of you as though a dam had broken. He drank it all up. Slurrrrrpeddd! every single drop until you were writhing again. And when he growled, “More,” and, “Again,” you could not deny him then either.
It might have been hours later before he decided he’d had his fill.
Aside from meal times, you don’t see him during the day. He’s always gone. No one will tell you why, and you don’t feel brave enough to ask. You merely assume he’s doing kingly duties — keeping the curses of the Underworld and of the forests in line, maintaining balance between humans and monsters, and protecting his people.
In the meantime, you read in his room, which is now your room. There are plenty of books here. More than you could ever read in a lifetime, and certainly more than there ever were in your village. It’s hard to imagine he read any of the books in the collection but there are signs of use: folded pages, cracked spines, yellowing.
He read each one you had opened.
Poems.
Novellas.
Journals of travels beyond.
You don’t mind the hours spent on your own; the goblins walking along still scare you so you avoid running into them. Of course, there’s always the option to ask during your mealtimes, in between him eating you out and actually consuming food, if you could visit the village (for you know returning was too much). Not that you especially wanted to go home.
The villagers had sold you.
Abandoned you.
They would not welcome you home.
So you must consider the heart of the mountain your new home.
It’s simply about asking, about knowing the answer, about having the option.
But each time you considered bringing up your village to him, you backed out at the last second. He was not your husband. Not really. Not yet. He’s not even really your groom. That just seems like an excuse to do the salacious things you’ve been doing. At most, he’s your friend, and you cannot burden your friend more than you already have.
Truthfully, it hardly matters what exactly he is to you. He’s nice. Attentive. Generous. He hasn’t killed you, he hasn’t hurt you, hasn’t massacred your village and your family, and hasn’t thrown back in your face any of those facts.
That’s why every morning, when you know Uraume will escort you, you make sure never to be late.
You obediently, possibly excitedly, wait in front of the door for the knock.
You slide a hand down your new dress; it appeared in the closet, and is your size. It certainly isn’t Sukuna’s. Red lace, soft silk, dainty bows, easy to move in and breathe — it’s a beautiful dress. Far more expensive and luxurious than anything you’d ever owned. The chest area’s a little tight; it pushes your breasts up more than you’re used to, and somehow you’re sure that was on purpose.
When the door opens, Uraume’s patient self leads you out. They’re quiet. Respectful. They have been since the very first night.
“Thank you.”
Cold eyes flit to you. “What ever for, my lady?”
“For saving me,” you say, fiddling with the lace on your dress. “If you hadn’t suggested that he humour me, Sukuna would have—”
“The king,” Uraume cuts in, spine straight and gaze fixed ahead now, “does only as he pleases. It is his right. He grows bored of his new toys very quickly, and it is my duty to keep him entertained. I saw an opportunity to fulfil my responsibility. That is all.”
You have no response to that. You only blink, surprised and berating yourself for being so. Sukuna may be your friend, in your eyes at least, but Uraume is not. Sukuna may not mind the fact that you are human, but others may not share the same sentiment. Maybe Uraume thinks you are a plague. A rat. That’s often the story humans spread about curses and their philosophies.
Soon, you reach the double doors leading to the garden. Before the doors are opened, they add, “It is also my duty to throw old toys away.”
When you turn to look at them, they’re already gone.
“Finally,” Sukuna says, exasperated. “I resent being kept waiting. Walk here with haste, little bride.”
Uraume’s words linger in your mind; Sukuna’s sharp rows of teeth flash washes them away.
He’s in his loose robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the wide sleeves. A hand beckons you over, and the moment you are within reach, he snatches you up. You’re carried up in his arms, high enough to come face to face with him and see all four of his eyes watching you.
Sukuna nuzzles the crook of your neck. He starts walking down the path. Branches tickle the top of your head. “Did you sleep well?” he wonders. His voice vibrates against your skin. It tickles.
Gripping his hair for purchase, you murmur, “Yes.” Then, shuddering once his lips explores the length of your neck, you ask, “Did you?”
“I do not sleep,” he casually replies.
Within minutes, he’s managed to walk so deep into the garden that the surroundings have changed from exotic flowers full of vibrant colours and shapes to a forest of cherry blossoms. Petals whirl around you, swirling with the gentle wind.
Above you, the cave walls have shifted into the blue and vast open sky.
You gasp. “Are we…are we outside?”
The brightness almost sting your eyes; you have to narrow them with a wince to avoid being blinded. The smell of fresh air too nearly burns your nostrils. The chatter of live animals and insects are near deafening at first. Everything’s so different, so new, yet so familiar, so ordinary that it becomes magical to your senses.
He parts from your neck to eye your reaction. The smile on your face makes his grip on you tighten. Sukuna says, “Yes. Your complexion looked rather dull without sunlight, and my bride must be at her very best at all times. So here we are.”
That doesn’t sound quite true upon his lips but you don’t question him on it.
Instead, you beam at him and gush, “Thank you! Oh, it’s wonderful out.”
It’s easy to forget what the world above is like when you’ve spent countless nights under the mountain with rocks for company.
Sukuna sets you down. You waste no time running around, laughing at the green grass that tickles your bare feet.
The grass inside the mountain’s garden is black, with roots being red, for reasons you could not fathom. It’s coarser too. The softness of this green, human grass, in comparison, sets your heart racing.
There’s no wind inside the mountain, only a draught. This calm air is fresher, warmer, soothing on the body and doesn’t settle.
And the warmth of the sun…
Beams of distant fire soaks into your skin. You sigh, a small smile on your lips.
When you turn back, he’s sitting under a tree, all arms crossed and watching you. Always watching. Always aware of your every move, every position, every shift.
Somewhat shy with the realisation that he’d seen the entire display, you stroll back to his side.
“It is a lovely day out, yes?” he says.
You nod, grinning. “It’s perfect. Just perfect.”
About to sit beside him, you let out a squeal when he snatches you up again and sits you down on his lap. All of his arms cage you. Sukuna rests his chin on the top of your head.
“Now it is,” he mumbles, chest rumbling against your back.
You smile again, more coy this time, and grateful he can’t see it.
The grass is untouched. No footprints mar it. No broken twigs, no distant rustling of hidden creatures. It is a forest, yes, but stripped of all the unease that forests usually carry.
It is only you and him.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve as another petal lands on your lap. You pick it up, studying it like it might vanish if you blink too long. Glancing back at him, you tilt your head slightly. “Did you…make this place like this?”
His chin presses a little more firmly into your hair, a quiet, possessive weight. “It exists on its own,” he says. “I allow it to remain.”
Another petal skims your lips. Without thinking, you laugh — light, bright, unguarded — as you try to catch it, only for it to slip away again, carried by a breeze that barely stirs the trees.
“You’re noisy,” he mutters.
Yet he does not tell you to stop.
You lean back into him instead, comfortable now, warm from the sun and from him both. One of his hands idly flicks a petal from your shoulder, the motion almost absent-minded, as though he doesn’t realise he’s doing it. Or perhaps he does. And simply doesn’t care.
Your gaze drifts across the clearing again, softer this time. Slower. Relaxed, you ask, “You said you don’t sleep. What do you do at night?”
Sukuna hums, fingers drumming on your stomach. “I take care of my business.”
That’s vague, you think, but you don’t push. Instead, you ask another question: “Why do you not return to the chambers?”
He chuckles, teasing. “How forward of you, little bride. We have not yet been wed and you’re already asking to share the marital bed. Is this how you humans do it in this day and age?”
Heat flushes your cheeks. You smack one of his wandering hands, which has crept up to cradle a breast, and huff, “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just mean, everyone needs sleep. Surely even you, the King of Curses. I wonder how you rest is all.”
A moment of contemplation passes.
Did you say something wrong? Did you go too far?
Did he hate that you smacked him?
“You are right,” he eventually says, head coming down to nudge you. His lips gently touches your cheek. “I do need rest. So allow me.”
His strong hands easily lift you off his lap, placing you down on the grass. Sukuna unfolds his large body and comes to lie perpendicular to you. His head weighs your thighs down.
With a wave of his hand, a book appears in your left hand at the same time he takes your right and cradles it to his chest. “Read,” he instructs. “Read to me. And after my nap, I will eat your little cunt and slap your clit thrice to punish you for smacking my hand even just once.”
A flutter at your core has his eyes peering up at you, glinting. He must have sensed it. Somehow. Whether by feeling or by smell. How mortifying.
“Or,” he starts, “I can eat you out now. I am fine with whatever order you prefer.”
“No, I’ll read,” you hurriedly say. You flick to the first page, reading the words out loud and only sighing in relief when his eyes flutter shut at the sound of your voice.
Sukuna’s lips curl up in the corner.
And so a new tradition is born.
.
.
.
“My Lord,” Uraume repeats outside the door, “they wait for you.”
Sukuna growls out, “Let them. I am preoccupied.”
You’re pressed to the door, the cold wood warming up to the flush of your cheek. Bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, you can do nothing else but let him rut his scalding length between your thighs.
This evening, he’d woken you up with his tongue buried inside your cunt. It seems after another whole day out in the garden, reading and strolling with him and tasting each other beneath trees before or after his naps, you fell asleep and were carried back into your chambers.
Has it been days or weeks since you’ve built up this routine of spending the days together and spending evenings apart?
Time seems to pass so quickly and yet so slowly. It’s begun to lose all meaning to you. It’s not a fact you lament.
You jolted with a shriek at the hulking figure under your covers. “About time,” he said, throwing the heavy thing off and baring how his skin glistened with your spend to you. “I thought I might have to fuck you with both my cocks at once to wake you.”
He was joking, you were sure. Or hoped…
“Wake me?” you repeated, back arching. “W-why?”
Sukuna replied, a fang rubbing your clit and being especially careful not to cut you, “Because I must leave again, but I did not want to without hearing my name upon your lips.”
A whine tore through you. “Why couldn’t you just wake me up the normal way?”
Red eyes flashed mischievously from below. He licked a strike up your inner thigh all while not breaking eye contact. “Because normal does not taste as good.”
Uraume’s voice called out soon after, reminding him of the evening meeting. You stiffened. Could they hear you? Do they know what he was doing with you on the bed?
Feeling embarrassed, you kicked Sukuna off and tried to push him to the door. You hissed, “You need to go. They need you.”
A hand slid inside your dress and groped your breast, cursed mouth appearing to nurse on your nipple. Another lifted your skirt up so that a third can coat its fingers in your cunt’s essence with the intention of easing the entry inside.
“So does your cunt,” he said. “And I know which I would rather attend to first.”
Oh, he was filthy. So, so filthy.
And so persuasive.
With you continuing, and struggling, to shake him off — legs quivering from the number his mouths had done to you today — you eventually made it to the door and was about to open it when something hot and heavy rested upon the curve of your ass and a second parted your puffy pussy lips.
It was almost like he planned this.
“Do not make a noise,” Sukuna rakishly rasped to your ear. Two rough hands gripped your bare hips, dressed hiked up over your ass. “Lest you’d like for Uraume to know what we’re doing.”
You definitely did not — they don’t like you very much. This wouldn’t help your case.
But…
His cocks are rubbing you up and down and back and forth. His fat cockhead keeps catching on your pulsing clit, bumping the thing over and over again until your cunt’s drooling on his veiny length.
“Press your thighs together. Tighter,” he commands, and groaning once you do. “Every part of you feels so good. It’s maddening.”
The pleasure building up in your core from a few thrusts is maddening. Truly. Irrevocably. You can’t tell him that, however. You can’t speak; if you do, a loud moan might slip out.
Sukuna’s grunting in your ear. The sounds are driving you wild. As is the fact that your tits are out and are being squeezed relentlessly by two hands. Mouths take over his palms. They don’t hesitate to latch onto your nipples. You gasp, head thrown back into his chest. “Sukuna!”
“Mm, I know,” he huskily says. “Me too. Be good, pretty human. Just allow me to use your thighs for now.”
He’s so tall your hips have to be lifted up to reach his cocks. Your toes dangle over the ground. You hang precariously but you never worry for a second that he might drop you.
Shlick! Shlickkk!
The sounds are obscene and they’re all you can hear. Uraume must hear them too. Yet, they’re still out there, saying, “My Lord, please. The council grows restless.”
Sukuna’s livid growl shakes the door. “They. Will. Wait. Do not interrupt me again.”
His rutting speeds up. The sucking of his cursed mouths intensifies. The tip of the cock behind you is smearing pre-cum on your back, and the sensation has you clenching around nothing.
“I’m cumming,” you whisper, eyes shut tight. “Nghhh!”
“Good,” he breathes out. “Good girl.”
You bring a hand down to your cunt, cupping the cockhead appearing and disappearing with every shallow thrust through your lips. It nudges your palm, squelching! and leaving wet sploodges of his cum and yours. Sukuna snarls.
And just like that, he cums too. His hot cum explodes into your hand, spilling through the cracks of your fingers and splatting onto the floor. More cum bursts on your back, dirtying your dress.
It’s so hot. Scalding.
He keeps ploughing between your soft thighs, wringing out every last drop until he shudders with a growl and you slump completely in his grasp.
When he pivots you around to check on you, specifically the cheek that had been pressed up against the door, you see his loose robe had fallen open. Some of his cum has ended up dripping down his skin. He’s tattooed and chiselled and hard everywhere. A true killing machine. You run your fingers down his chest, smearing his cum around, all the way to his stomach where a massive mouth manifests in time to clamp onto your wrist with a grin.
His teeth don’t break skin. They don’t even hurt. They merely keep your hand inside, huge tongue slithering to lick every finger and every inch. Curiously, you grip the appendage. It really does feel like a real tongue. You stroke it.
Sukuna grips the back of your neck. He glares down at you. “You are trying to bring me to my knees, aren’t you?”
You blink. “No! Forgive me.” You try to pull your hand out on your own but his sudden grasp on your wrist stops you.
“I did not say I did not like it.” He steps closer, licking his lips.
“My Lord…” Uraume grits out through the door.
Sukuna groans. “Yes! Alright!”
The door opens with a wave of his hand.
“I should massacre the whole council, then I will have all the time in the world to bury my tongue inside your cunt. One day…” he mutters under his breath, seemingly actually considering the idea. You swat his back, cheeks flushed from embarrassment.
Your dress falls back into place just in time for you to shield yourself from anyone else’s eyes but Sukuna’s. Not that it’s enough.
Uraume’s chilling eyes see all — the sweat on your skin, the mess of your hair, the quivering of your legs, and the droplets of cum on the floor. They do not look disgusted by it. They look disgusted by you.
“Be good for me, little bride,” Sukuna says, already stomping away. “I will look for you as soon as I am done with these fools.”
You take a step forward to Uraume, an apology on your tongue.
They step back, straightening up. “These meetings are important,” they begin. “They ensure the other lords feel seen and heard. It maintains peace in our domain, and in yours. You mustn’t keep him from doing his duties. Not only is it impolite, it is also dangerous.”
“I’m sorr—”
“Do not apologise to me. Apologise to the king for wounding him,” they snap. You frown, confused. “The marks you left on his wrists that he refuses to heal himself? He leaves them open and bleeding. He openly plays with the cuts in front of the council, in front of his audience, smiling. Whispers are making echoes of a weakness in our king. If you do not care about your safety, then you must care about his.”
Thoroughly scolded, you stay rooted in place, watching Uraume follow after Sukuna.
.
.
.
You take a walk through the garden this evening to clear your head.
What Uraume said forced you to contemplate your relationship with the king. With Sukuna. They reminded you why you were spared in the first place — you’re a toy. A thing for entertainment.
He is entertained by you now, by the pleasures your body provides. That, however, is not something unique to you; any woman can spread their legs, which is a crass thing to say, you know. But it’s true. To save their village, their people, to earn another day of life, or to even have the honour of serving a king, many women would offer their body up.
And you are no special woman. You are quite average, all things considered. Never the most beautiful woman in the room, the most intelligent, or most pure of heart.
The fact of the matter is, Sukuna will soon grow bored of you.
What is left to be considered now is, will he spare you once he finds a new toy or will you be ‘gotten rid’ of by Uraume?
Will you be sad?
The pang in your chest at the thought seems to suggest so.
Without realising it, you end up back in the cherry blossom grove.
It looks different at night. Just as beautiful as during the day, of course, but different. Fireflies light up the air, mingling with the stars above you. If not for them, you wouldn’t know where you are, wouldn’t know that the tree whose bark you’re grazing with your fingertips now is the very same tree you sit under with Sukuna.
You were always under the impression that being a king meant you could do whatever you wanted. Uraume’s warning proved otherwise — Sukuna had people to please. And you’re who pleases him.
For how long will you be enough?
With a sigh, you wonder if Sukuna really will come to find you after his meeting. He’s always busy in the evenings, and though you spent the hours of the night sleeping anyway, it’d still be nice to talk to him. His thoughts on books you’ve read are quite funny.
He hates silly heroines who make bad decisions and always fall for the gloomy, morally grey men, yet hates the morally grey men more for their cheesy lines. “‘I control shadows and I have wings,’” he’d mimic, lowering his voice to a deeper rumble than his own. Then he’d say in his own voice, “Yes, so do about a thousand other fictional men. You are not special.”
Sukuna’s brows would furrow and he’d scoff whenever you’d get flustered by the erotic passages you’d be forced to read aloud to him as you sit in his lap, but he never suggests changing books. You theorise he really just likes complaining.
“Pretty girl?”
You jolt.
That voice…
“Suguru?”
Behind a tree, a silhouette hobbles over to you. “You’re alive! Oh, thank the heavens!”
The man falls into your arms. He’s really here. Your bestest friend. But he isn’t how you remember him — long raven hair have turned matted and dull, clothes torn and dirtied, and skin scratched up. You can hardly recognise him.
He grips your face, dirt rubbing into your skin. Scanning for any harm that might have befallen you, he smiles with relief upon seeing you’re perfectly well. “I’ve spent so many weeks wondering what had happened to you. I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
His words are going in one ear and out the other; you can only question, with terror and trepidation, why his hands tremble, why he’s jumping at every little sound, and pulling you away inch by inch.
“What happened?”
Suguru’s eyes harden. His grip falls on your shoulder. Tight. Insistent. You wince. He says, “Listen to me carefully. We need to leave. We need to leave now. We’re too deep in the Curse King’s territory. There are beasts about. We must run now. Come!”
Bewildered, you’re yanked forward, stumbling over your feet.
“Wait, no, I have to stay!”
He’s not listening.
Deeper into the forest, you’re pulled. The cherry blossoms morph into scraggly trees, leafless and with jagged branches like teeth reaching for you. The fireflies are gone now. You have to force your eyes to adjust as you trip over rocks and logs, and as your bare feet are caked in mud and moss.
Looking back towards the light, you start to heave. “Sukuna…Sukuna’ll be mad. I have to go back.” You try to tear his hand off your wrist, digging your nails, but he can hardly feel it. “Suguru!” you yell, in near tears.
The man whirls on you, eyes wide and red. The bags under his eyes are darker than even the dark. They startle you. “What’re you doing? Why’re you fighting me? I’m trying to save you, like I should have done when your family decided to sacrifice you to the mountain.”
You shake your head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not mad at you, so if you’re doing this out of guilt, then you don’t need to. Just go, alright? Go before someone notices you’re here. I don’t know what the goblins, Uraume, o-or Sukuna will do if they find you here.”
Suguru recoils. “Sukuna? You call the monster of the mountain by his first name?”
He doesn’t wait for you to answer. Something seems to dawn on him. His eyes properly take you in from head to toe — your clean skin, fresh hair, the plump in your cheeks, the expensive dress you wear, the lace, the silk, the jewels.
He releases you, like you’d burnt him.
“The king spared you…” he whispers in horror. “He spared you. And you’ve been living a life of luxury, as our village burned to the ground. You call him by his first name when his name was the last thing my family had screamed in their final moments. You wish to go back, to that thing, when I’m here and I’m taking you away…”
“What do you mean?” you ask, brows knitting together. “What happened to our village?”
It’s an impossible thing to imagine. Yet it shouldn’t have been. Many villages have suffered the same fate, or worse, over the many years since the rise of the curses. But your village was spared because of you, because of their offering, right?
A scathing laugh slaps you on the cheek. “You don’t know? You’ve been cozying up to that monster and you don’t know he wiped our village out from the map? That he massacred our people in one night? Are you just stupid or did he poison your mind?”
You fall back, shaking your head. “No, no, he wouldn’t.”
“He’s a killer!” Suguru roars. “He’s killed so many. Every single night. The very few of us that had survived have fled from village to village, trying to fight against him and his army of curses, but they always win. I’ve watched my friends, my allies, fall again and again. And yet, I thought of you every day. I fought for you, so I can return and save you from his torture.”
He scoffs.
“But he hasn’t been torturing you, has he?” Suguru grips your face suddenly, bruising your cheeks as he spits out, “No, he hasn’t had to use force to get you to spread your legs!”
Tears stream down your face. “Stop it,” you cry out. “Stop it!”
Suguru presses his forehead to yours, lips trembling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Let’s just go, alright? We need to go. You’re not safe even if you’ve earned his favour for now. He’s proven he isn’t a man of his word, and it’s only a matter of time before he tears you limb from limb like he had done to your mother and to your father, and to mine.”
Images of your home ablaze, of the night sky filling with the screams of the dying, of blood turning the ground crimson flash in your eyes.
You’re a fool. You’d actually convinced yourself that he isn’t the King of Curses, that creatures from the Underworld don’t bow to him, that he hasn’t been keeping you to laugh behind your back.
You’d allow yourself to believe you’re Sukuna’s bride.
That you’re something special to him, even momentarily, even just for now.
He’s looking at you impatiently, bouncing on his feet and listening out for any signs of hostile life in the forest.
Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “Yes, yes. Let’s go. He’s in a meeting right now, he’ll be busy.”
And off you two go, running in the dark, hand in hand.
Branches whip at your arms as you run.
The forest is different at night.
Where it had been soft, warm, almost dreamlike beneath drifting blossoms, it’s now a maze of shadows and silver light, the moon caught in the petals overhead. Your breath comes sharp and uneven, lungs burning, feet barely finding the ground as you stumble over roots and fallen bark.
Beside you, Suguru’s grip is firm. Unyielding.
“Don’t stop,” he says, low, urgent, pulling you forward when your pace falters. “We’re almost past the boundary—”
A roar splits the night.
It shakes the air. Rips through the trees. Sends petals scattering like frightened birds. The ground trembles beneath your feet, a deep, violent pulse that travels straight up your spine. It rattles your bones, grips your very soul and squeezes. It’s in equal parts wrathful and tortured.
You freeze.
Suguru doesn’t.
“Move,” he snaps, tightening his hold on your hand, dragging you forward again. “He knows.”
Of course he knows.
This is his domain.
Every inch of it.
You run faster.
Faster than you ever have before, lungs screaming, vision blurring, your hand clutched in Suguru’s like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. The trees thin for a moment, moonlight spilling across a clearing—
THUD!
The earth cracks beneath the impact. You both skid to a halt.
He stands there, between you and whatever hope you thought you had.
Sukuna.
Tall. Unmoving. Waiting.
That deranged smile curls slowly across his lips, too wide, too pleased, too knowing. His eyes gleam in the dark, sharp and bright and utterly unhinged, drinking in the sight of you: your dishevelled state, your trembling form, your hand still clasped in another’s.
For a moment, he says nothing. Then, “You are leaving me?” His voice is almost light. Almost amused. “For some pathetic human?”
The words hit harder than the roar. Your chest tightens, a hot and jagged thing rising up your throat, drowning out the fear, the instinct to shrink, to hide, to obey. “No,” you snap, breath shaking. “I’m leaving because you slaughtered my village. You killed my family. You lied to me.”
He laughs. Low. Disbelieving. Growing. Sukuna tilts his head, as though genuinely intrigued by your accusation, by the audacity of it. “You mean the village,” he begins, voice slow, deliberate, “that threw you, bound and gagged, at the foot of my domain to be sacrificed?”
Each word lands like a blade, cutting deeper and deeper, and twisting to remind you of your lowest moment, of the humiliation, of the powerlessness you felt.
“The family that readily offered you up? That never looked back even once?”
Your grip on Suguru tightens.
Sukuna’s smile widens.
“Yes,” he hums, almost fondly. Inspecting his hands, as though he can see the blood that still stains his unmarred skin. “Yes, I did. And very gladly.”
Something in your chest cracks.
“But I never lied to you,” he continues, eyes narrowing just slightly, the air around him growing heavier, sharper. “You just assumed that I would negotiate with lesser creatures. A fault that I have overlooked.”
Suguru steps forward, just enough to place himself between you and him. “You’re done,” he says, voice steady, though there’s tension coiled tight beneath it. “Whatever hold you think you have over her—”
Sukuna’s gaze flicks to him.
The shift is instant.
The amusement drains, not completely, but enough to reveal something colder beneath. Something ancient. Something violent.
“Careful,” Sukuna murmurs. “I do not take kindly to interruptions in my conversations with my bride.”
The air distorts.
Pressure builds, thick and suffocating, pressing against your skin, your lungs, your bones. Suguru doesn’t move, but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours, grounding you even as the world threatens to tilt.
Why hasn’t Sukuna killed you both? Why hasn’t he tore you two apart? Why is he standing under the moonlight, humoured and talking so leisurely?
Even till now, he’s not staring down at you with deadly intent. He’s conversing with you as if he’s asking how your breakfast is or what book you’d picked up to read to him today. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking, and that’s more dangerous than if you knew he was going to rip you into pieces.
“She’s not your bride,” he spits, tugging you behind him.
Sukuna laughs again. Four eyes settle back on you. “Not mine?” he repeats, almost thoughtfully. “After everything I have given you?”
A step forward.
“After I took you in,” he continues, voice dropping, curling around the words, “fed you, dressed you, kept you alive when the rest of your kind would have happily watched you die?”
Another step.
Trying to steel your resolve, you retort, “You must feel betrayed, right? Imagine how I feel, Sukuna!”
“You think I feel betrayed?” he asks, head tilting again, that awful smile returning, sharper now. “No, little bride.” His gaze flicks briefly to your joined hands. Then back to your face. “This is not betrayal,” he says. “This is ingratitude. It seems I have spoiled you. Given you too much, too fast. I did not train insolence out of you. You have insulted me. And you will be punished.”
Suguru pulls you back a fraction.
“Run,” Suguru whispers.
His last words, before Sukuna flicks his wrist and his body is cut into thin ribbons of flesh, blood, muscle and bone. They fall into a neat pile by your feet, soaking the ground you stand on until your soles are caked in the remains of your only friend.
It happens so quickly, so suddenly, you couldn’t blink fast enough to protect your mind from the grotesque display. You saw it all. A man, a whole life, memories, a future, diminished to mush.
Sukuna smiles wider.
“Yes,” he says, almost eagerly. “Run, little bride.”
You do.
Feet slam against the forest floor. Bare soles strike damp earth. Sharp pebbles and stray twigs that snap beneath your weight. It hurts.
God, it hurts.
But you don’t stop. You can’t. The pain barely registers past the ringing in your ears, past the image burned into your mind, replaying over and over again.
Suguru’s gone. Your village. Your family. Everything familiar.
Your stomach twists violently, bile clawing up your throat, but there’s no time to be sick, no time to grieve, no time for anything except run.
Branches lash at you as you tear through the undergrowth, snagging against your dress, catching in the fabric and ripping it in jagged lines. The hem tears first, then higher, threads snapping with every desperate step until the once-soft material hangs in shredded strips around your legs. Chilling air kisses the exposed skin, quickly replaced by the sting of scratches, of thin lines of blood blooming where thorns and bark have caught you.
“So panicked. So scared.”
His voice.
Right there.
Warm.
Amused.
Mocking.
You choke on a gasp, nearly tripping over your own feet as you lurch forward, heart slamming so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs open. He’s not behind you, or in front of you, and yet it sounded as though he was.
“I have not even begun,” Sukuna murmurs somewhere, almost thoughtful. “And already you look like this. Adorable.”
The forest stretches endlessly before you, trees blurring together, shadows twisting into shapes that don’t exist. The petals that once felt soft now cling to your damp skin, sticking to the sweat, to the blood, to the places where your dress has torn open. Your lungs burn, each inhale sharp and shallow, your chest tightening with every second that passes.
You trip.
A root catches your foot, sending you pitching forward. Your hands barely catch you before your face meets the ground, palms scraping harshly against rough earth. Dirt grinds into your skin, mixing with the blood already there.
“Oh dear,” he muses. “Such a clumsy thing, you are. That’s why I keep you locked up with all the pretty things in my domain. Do you see now, why you must stay with me?”
Getting back to your feet, you stumble forward. “I’m never going back with you!”
You ignore the way your hands tremble, the way your legs and your unused muscles scream in protest as you force them to move again.
Run.
Run.
Run.
“You know,” Sukuna continues, his voice drifting lazily through the air, “I expected more from you.”
There’s a rustle above.
A shadow moving faster than you can track.
Where is he? Why isn’t he snatching you up? Why is he drawing this out?
He’s like a cat toying with a mouse, playing with his food, heightening your fear so you’ll taste even better.
“I gave you everything,” he says, less conversational now, more accusing. “And this is how you repay me? Running off into the woods like a frightened little animal, with some other man, a man I should have slaughtered along with the other rats?”
Your breath hitches.
“Have I not been good to you? Have I not been enough? Enough to stay for. For even a goodbye.”
A tear slips down your cheek, cutting through the grime. Devastatingly, a part of you notices the subtle crack of vulnerability. He masks it with amusement, with the undercurrent of anger, but you hear it all the same.
Still running, you yell, “You’re going to kill me, like you killed everyone. I’m just a toy to you!”
“And a very bad one at that,” he retorts without missing a beat. “Fear not — I will fix you once I catch you.”
“You’re not going to catch me,” you choke out, though it sounds weak, even to your own ears.
Sukuna tuts and it sounds like it’s right by your ear. “Ah, but I already have.”
Wind flips your hair around, making it hard to see, so when you whip your head side to side, looking for hope, you don’t see the barrier ahead until it’s too late.
Your body meets a hard wall. Two arms cage you in, unyielding.
A scream pierces through the forest. It’s so far removed from you, you think for a second that someone else is facing the same fate you are, and your heart breaks for her. When reality sets in, you cease to stop feeling sorry at all. You just weren’t fast enough. No one could be against the Curse King.
“Got you, little bride.”
In a blink of an eye, he has you carried up by your hips.
“Mark my words,” he says, “you will never leave me again.”
His lips slam onto yours.
Sukuna wastes no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth. A shocked moan escapes you. This is your first kiss, and with him. It’s not romantic like the stories described kisses to be. It’s not soft, tentative, gentle. It’s a kiss full of anger, of a need for vengeance, to dominate.
Sukuna’s channeling every ounce of his feeling of betrayal, try as he might to deny it, down your throat. With the nipping of his teeth hard enough to draw blood, the suckling of his lips to taste the iron on his tongue, and said tongue exploring the crevices.
“Just as delicious as your cunt,” he snarls, pleased.
You should fight him off, you know. But you can’t. He’s too strong, too all-consuming, too engrained in your body. It recognises his heat, his scent, his voice, and it wants more. So you don’t part from him; you clamp your teeth down on his bottom lip too, tasting his blood.
It’s sweet.
Sickly sweet in a way that rushes straight to your head.
He barks a laugh, a hand yanking your head back by your hair. “A biter…adorable.” He runs his tongue up the length of your neck before biting the curve. You moan. It doesn’t break skin, but the threat is there, and it has you clenching around nothing.
Sukuna takes a deep inhale of the air.
His eyes flash red.
“I killed your friend, decimated your village, and your cunt is still craving pleasure from me?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound very much like a question at all. “Your soul calls for me, do you realise it, little wife?”
“I’m not your wife,” you spit out.
“Not yet, but in just a moment, you will be,” he promises. At whatever expression you wear on your face, another laugh cuts through you. “You do not realise the trap you have run into, do you?”
Blinking, you finally look around, processing your surroundings.
They glisten with something under the moonlight — too thick, too dark to be dew.
Blood?
Behind you, a litter of scarlet petals trails right up to where you stand, as though marking every step that led you here, every foolish attempt at escape laid out like a procession. Rows of benches stretch out on either side, carved from twisted wood and bone, thorns curling along their edges, skulls embedded into the structure.
The forest has gone still.
No insects. No birds. No wind.
Only him.
Only you.
And this…
This altar.
“A fitting setting, no?” Sukuna murmurs against your skin, his voice lower now, richer, laced with something disturbingly joyful. His grip on your hips tightens, grounding you in place even as your mind threatens to spiral. “For a union long overdue.”
Dress hiked up around your waist, a long, slithering thing worms up your thighs. You writhe, trying to run away from it, but he won’t let you. Teeth hook into your underwear. It riiiiiiiiiips it off.
His curse tongue licks your cunt with a vengeance, as though punishing you for withholding your pussy and its juices from it. Shlick! Shlick! So vulgar. So indecent. So unrestrained.
Your pulse spikes. “This isn’t—”
“It is,” he cuts in smoothly.
The word lands like a final verdict.
Back arching, you’re powerless against the tongue prodding your entrance. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you. You don’t mention how it’s far too big to enter you and yet it does, stretching your walls out with ancient powers you will never understand.
Inside, it licks every inch, every pleat. Maybe your hips work down, trying to suck it deeper inside. Maybe it doesn’t.
You’re far too focused on the fact that you’re finally at your wedding. A wedding you never wanted in the first place. A wedding he didn’t want either. He was just amused by the gall of the humans.
The domain itself is bearing witness.
There’s no need for friends, for family, for a priest.
He only needs himself and you.
Sukuna turns you with absolute certainty, positioning you to face the altar. It’s carved from dark marble, veined with something that glows faintly beneath the surface, like embers trapped beneath ash. Symbols you don’t understand are etched into it, curling and jagged.
“I chased you,” he muses, almost idly, though his hands never leave you, never loosen. They feel your body. Squeezing. Groping. Grip pulsing. Drawing out gasps and moans. “I let you run. Let you tear yourself apart on branches and roots like a frightened little thing.”
His fingers drag over one of the scratches on your arm, smearing the thin line of blood.
“And still,” he continues, voice dropping, “you came exactly where I wanted you.”
Your throat tightens.
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” he says, almost gently now, and that softness is far more terrifying than anything else. “Every path you chose. Every step you took. It all led here.”
The petals shift under your feet as he guides you forward.
One step.
And another.
“To me.”
Your thighs are soaked with his saliva. The entrance to your womb is being tickled. Clit rubbed by a wide, flat tongue. You’re face to face with him, panting, eyes unable to tear away with the undeniable allure of his. He’s tasting you, consuming you, devouring. He just can’t help himself. Even when he should be rough, when he should punish you, should teach you a lesson you’ll never forget, he cannot.
“Ngh! S-Sukuna,” you cry out as an orgasm tears through you. “Too much!”
For a moment, his gaze softens. “I know, I know. But you need to be stretched to take both of my cocks. Be patient.”
Blood drains from your face.
That’s when you start thrashing in his hold, fear taking over you. “No, no! I can’t take both of them.” They’re too big. You’ve seen them up close; no one could take them. No human. One would already be asking too much.
Both?
It’d be a death sentence.
Sukuna slowly lays you down on top of the altar.
Immediately, dark powers curl around your body. Wisps of shadow and smoke threading around your limbs, twirling your hair, brushing your cheek, unravelling your dress and slipping it off your body. They keep you in place.
You feel his energy touching you everywhere — stroking your lips, entering through your nose, sliding down your throat and filling your belly, flicking your nipples before wrapping around the hard bud and tugging, creeping down your stomach to stroke your throbbing clit.
They distract you, shushing the cries of protest.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as his eyes consume you whole. “So beautiful. And all mine.”
He touches your cunt, coating his fingers with your essence. Sukuna brings it up in the light between you. It’s red.
Automatically, your legs move to close. The shadows stop you. They yank your legs further apart so he can slot himself between them. His robes have fallen off. A cockhead pokes your clit, smearing its pre-cum onto the pulsing thing. You gasp.
When he licks your monthly blood off his fingers, you groan. “Stop! It’s filthy.”
“No, little bride. Nothing about you is filthy. Not in a way I don’t cherish, at least.”
Sukuna brings his wrist up to your lips.
“Bite me. Hard. Hard enough to bleed. Take your anger out on me. All your hate. Your melancholy. Your grief. Let it all out,” he demands, growling. “I want it. All of it. Every part of you. Give it to me!”
The shadows pry your jaw open. That’s it. It’s them that makes your teeth take hold of his thick wrist and bite down with every force you have in you. It’s them that make your teeth sink in through all layers.
Iron soaks into your tongue, trickling down your throat and warming your chest, like alcohol.
He throws his head back, chest heaving.
The forest rustles, cheering, trembling with pleasure. Meanwhile, the shadows are vibrating. Thrumming as it plays with your clit incessantly. As it pushes in the little holes of your nipples, pleasuring the fats from inside. You whine.
“Fuck!” he bellows
Sukuna snatches his wrist from you. His hands grip the marble, veins popping and threatening to burst. He’s gulping down air and rolling tension off his shoulders.
“You almost came, didn’t you?” you ask, smiling in victory.
Those red eyes dart up to you. He licks his lips. “Yes. Yes, I did.” Sukuna tilts his head, hand wandering up your torso before groping your breast. Like you already know to expect, his curse mouth disappears from his stomach and appears on his palm. It suckles on your nipple, obsessed with trying to find milk where there is none.
You moan, back arching.
Two hands hold your hips. They tug you down, closer to his hips.
“You expected me to be ashamed of your effect on me?” he wonders aloud, huffing in amusement. “I want you. I crave you. I own you. In the same way you want me, crave me, own me. The only difference is, I embrace it.”
He’s stroking his top cock leisurely, wringing out droplets you can’t tear your eyes from. Lips parting, your mouth begins to long to be filled. Your hips chase after the fat thing. His shadows keep you still.
Sukuna continues, rubbing the wrist you’d bitten on your stomach, “I am offering everything I have, everything I am, was and will be. You need only take it. Take me. Use me.” He draws a symbol, a sigil, you don’t recognise. With his other hand, he collects the blood between your legs. The bloodied fingers hovers above the mark. “Claim me.”
There’s sincerity in his eyes, which seem to plead with you.
Inside, a pull reaches for him. Desperate. Intent. Hysterical. It calls for him, pained. He calls back, even more so.
You can tell, whatever you feel for him, he feels it tenfold. No, infinitely more intense. It must drive him mad. The fraction of what you feel has you wanting to keel over, to rip your skin off and wear his. How he can function, can keep his head on straight, baffles you.
He’s commendable. A true leader. An unholy king.
That’s why, when he utters a final syllable, you cannot resist the pull any longer:
“Please.”
“Yes!” you wail. “I do! I do! I claim you. All of you.”
Arms flailing, you scramble towards him. Like a leech, you attach yourself to him, to his lips. You sloppily kiss him, smearing the blood and dirt on your body all over his. Fire burns beneath your skin. You’re set ablaze. Your soul. Your heart. Your skin. Every part is touched by him. Caressed. Treasured.
Sukuna releases a relieved breath, as though he’d been put out of his misery.
He holds you to him. He won’t drop you. You know it. You know it so deeply, it is like knowing your name.
The forest roars. Branches thrash. Leaves fall in spirals around you, a wall shielding you from the rest of the world. There’s no going back anymore. You’ve given in. You’ve surrendered.
Two hot things begin pushing inside.
For a moment, you tense, anticipating pain. None come. Only delirious bliss. Drool drips down your chin. Your eyes roll back.
The shadows haven’t stopped stimulating you outside and inside. You’ve been cumming over and over again. Little orgasms that make your limbs shaky. But the orgasm that hits you the moment both of his cock stretch your gummy walls?
World ending.
Tantalizing.
Immense.
Boundless.
The most glorious gift.
You scream.
“Yes, that’s it,” he coaxes. “Perfect. So perfect. My wife. Mine now and forevermore.”
Soon, he bottoms out. Hips flushed. Torsos pressed together tightly. Not a single thing could get in between you. You feel every inch of him. Every ridge. Every vein. Every nudge of his fat cockheads competing to draw out your pleasure most.
You thought it’d feel overwhelming. Too much too soon. Now, you can’t get enough. You think, if only one cock had entered you, you would have mewled and whined for the other to join.
“See?” Sukuna whispers into your ear, teeth scraping the shell. “You took me so well. Such a well-behaved girl. You were -hah- made for me.”
In spite of his teasing words, his whole body is trembling with the fight not to cum too soon. Your constant clenching, fluttering around both of his cocks, the way you choke him right to the base, has him at the very edge of sanity, which you doubt he had to begin with.
He’s ploughing his cocks inside you.
Thrusting with vigour that you feel at your fingertips. Your toes curl, back arching and head thrown back. Sukuna sucks at your neck, obsessed with the intensity of your scent there.
He’s like an animal let loose. He’s rutting into you so fiercely you fear he’d break your bones. But your king would never hurt you. Not in a way you wouldn’t like.
A crazed laugh echoes in the night.
You rake your fingers through his hair. Then you yank his head back, as he had done to you. “More, Sukuna. Fuck me more. I want to cum on your cocks over and over again. I command it, husband.”
Both lengths throb inside you.
Sukuna’s eyes cross. They’re glazed over. “Yes,” he mumbles without even realising it, thoroughly enthralled in your very being, “whatever you want, my beautiful, precious wife.”
Hours must pass.
Hours of fucking you in the air, on the altar, on the ground, against a tree.
His hands explore your body till he’s memorised the curves and the planes. You do the same.
The squelching of your cunt, the slapping of skin, the mingling of blood with cum, the reverberating of groans and moans envelopes you in a hellish cocoon. The bullying of his cocks through your sore, sensitive walls, the sucking of his curse mouth on your tits, the devouring of his mouth to yours, the fwop fwop fwop! of his balls on your poor clit — all of it sends you over the edge again and again and again and again, even once you think you will never feel better than the last.
You cannot get enough of him.
And he cannot get enough of you.
Sukuna whimpers your name out before and after every peak he reaches. He fills your belly up with his cum. It perpetually drips out of you. You can taste the salt on your tongue. It coats you from head to toe.
“My wife,” he exhales, like announcing to the world. “My life…my love.”
Where he ends and you begin blur.
Time ceases to exist. The rest of the world vanishes.
In this moment, in his arms, bouncing on his cock as he gazes upon every flicker of pain and pleasure on your face, only you two matter.
.
.
.
The sun has started to rise.
You watch it climbing over the hill, head laid out on Sukuna’s chest. He plays with your hair, twirling it absentmindedly. You’re both naked. Limbs thrown over each other. Tangled.
Juices and blood have dried over your skin. Some of it your own. Some of it his.
A deep satisfaction courses through your veins.
Sukuna’s chest rises and falls beneath your cheek.
There is something almost surreal about it — this stillness, this calm. The same body that had hunted you through the dark now lies beneath you like an anchor, solid and unyielding in a different way. The heat of him seeps into your skin, bleeding into your bones.
His fingers continue their idle path through your hair.
A strand slips loose, caught and wound around his clawed fingertips before being released again.
Your body bears the marks of the night: faint bruises bloom beneath your skin, teeth marks darkening where they had once stung, thin scratches tracing your limbs from your flight through the forest. Sukuna’s hands soothe any marks he left on you, not regretful at all. His actions can be likened to basking proudly in the art he made.
All the while, you’re tracing the marks you left on him too — the scratches, the bite marks, the bruises he allowed you to give him. You run your fingers down his tattoos, avoiding the mouth on his tongue, which keeps licking you or trying to capture your hand. A very naughty thing indeed.
“Sukuna,” you murmur. He grunts. “I’m hungry. Let’s go back home.”
“How you have any room left in your small belly after drinking so much of my cum, I cannot fathom,” he voices out, curious and concerned. You smack his chest. “Yes, dear. I hear you. Let us take a bath in the pool and I will have a servant bring us food. Perhaps a goblin.”
As he stands up, you frown. “A goblin? Why not Uraume?”
Uraume’s his favourite. His right hand. His shadow. The goblins, on the other hand, he barely tolerates. You’ve seen him kick the poor things out of the way too often. Once or twice, you’ve reflexively tried to help them up, but they growl at you. You think they quite like being kicked about. It seems to be an honour to them.
Under his breath, as Sukuna stretches his body with a lazy yawn, he says, “Uraume is on time out.”
Using his outstretched hand to bring you to your feet, you ask, “Why? What happened?”
Petulantly, he grumbles, “The insolent brat took it upon themself to lead that waste of space human I tore to shreds to you. It seems they thought you were a bad influence on me.”
To punctuate his last sentence and emphasise the absurdity of the idea, he grins wolfishly down at you, more specifically at his cum dripping down your thighs. Cheeks heated, you press them together.
It’s hard to believe this evening had been orchestrated by Uraume, but also it’s not a huge leap in logic. They’ve made their point of view abundantly clear — you just didn’t think they would have tried to have you face imminent death crossing through the forest where creatures of the Underworld lurked.
“Are you…are you going to hurt them?”
Sukuna cocks a brow. “Would you like me too?”
“No,” you say immediately and sincerely. “Blood’s already been spilled tonight. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt again.”
“Very well. Let me know if you change your mind. They sure do get upset if I let someone else cook my meals.”
You giggle.
Then, all the humour dies out of you.
Exhaustion has set in your limbs.
Whatever energy had overtaken you earlier is gone now.
His breath grazes your cheeks, warm against the cold air. One of his thumbs collects a tear right from your lashes. You didn’t even know you’re tearing up. He brings the droplet to his lips and licks it away. You hold your breath as he mutters, “Watching you run from me, hand in hand with some other man, hurts less than seeing you cry for him. It makes me wish I had made him suffer more before his end.”
“I’m not crying for him.”
Sukuna’s crimson eyes flit to you.
“Oh?”
Sudden sobs escape your lips. Your knees give out beneath you. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms. He always does. You bury your face in his neck. Sukuna rubs soothing circles on your back, cooing. “My ferocious, little wife…what is wrong? Did I hurt you too much? Do you…do you regret marrying me?”
The insecurity in his voice, the hesitation to ask, to hear a truth he would be distraught to hear, make you cry harder.
“Please don’t ever throw me away. I know I shouldn’t have left last night, but I really thought you were going to kill me. And maybe you will later. But please don’t,” you plead through your tears. “I want to be with you forever and ever.”
Silence passes.
A pregnant pause.
He laughs.
He actually laughs.
It’s full bodied. His stomach mouth joins in. “Hilarious! You never fail to entertain me with your constant overthinking. Always so afraid. So on guard. Too precious! You are just too adorable. You will rot my teeth.”
Weakly, you lay a barrage of punches on his chest. “Don’t laugh at me, you brute. I’m your wife. Respect me.”
Sukuna nods patronisingly, but he does shift his laughter into light chuckles, “Alright, alright. Forgive me, little wife. You are simply so delightful, so naive, and pitiful, I cannot help myself.”
“Put me down.”
“Never.” Sukuna presses a kiss to your cheek. He nudges your face away from his neck so you will meet his gaze. Seriously now, voice with his sacred vow, “I have no intention of throwing you away. Not since I laid eyes on you and felt a thing I did not know existed beat in my chest.”
Holding your breath, you listen to his confession.
“There is no world,” he continues, quieter now, though the weight of it presses heavier, “in which I allow you to slip from my grasp. Not heaven, not earth, not whatever fragile afterlife your kind clings to. If you are taken from me, I will unmake it. If you are hidden, I will find you. If you are reborn, I will recognise you.”
Shyly, you ask, “Even if I have a different face?”
Sukuna nods. “In whatever form, whatever shape, whatever state, you are. Wherever, whenever, you find yourself in. I will recognise you by your soul. For yours make up my own.”
He leaves a kiss to your forehead, to each of your eyes, to the tip of your nose. You giggle.
Then, huffing in amusement, he adds, “It certainly helps that we are bound by curse marriage. Not by your flimsy, human paper. But by blood. We curses take blood bonds very seriously. If we are to part, for whatever reason, we would both die, so it is in your best interest not to throw me away.”
That should startle you. Should scare you beyond belief. Instead, you think it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.
“I’m holding you to that,” you mutter against his lips.
Sukuna nuzzles your nose with his, a smile mirroring yours.
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…
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 courtesy 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 doesn’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 you hear 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’s the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…
but he blinked.
“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 lights. 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. “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,” he shouts 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 cracks 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, 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 waistband. 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 on him—heavy, almost… expectant.
it lingers a second too long. then—
“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten wins— oh and 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 too!”
“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 move 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 stupid drunk frat game.
“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.
“gojo! spike that shit!”
water slaps against the tile as everything moves 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.
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. sukuna lands, water dripping down his shoulders, then he glances at you. his canines are 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 in 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 want 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, all a blur that you don’t focus on another body 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 tub’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 tub 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.
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 parting as your lashes 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 sends a rush of heat down to 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 you’re humping his cock like you can 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 way you don’t 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 of the cycle 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… you’re 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, as you completely fall apart, cumming right then and there. 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. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes. 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 satisfying 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 of yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”
fuck, you’re insane.
“…my hands…my lips….or..” you smile. “my tight, pretty pussy….”
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 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 on 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. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you have 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 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, down the dark wet hairs of his happy trail. 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 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 and 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 small pockets, 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. “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 follows 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’s 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 discards 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 the 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 your slick 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 on 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 your gorgeous 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. knows when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, meaner, 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 for the nth time 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 mean spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he does that for god knows how long, until you finally spasm around his digits. he’s then flipping you over, easily getting on top.
“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out right in front of his eyes. 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 puffy pussy. “what a 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 him 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.”
“please,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with your hard dick.”
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 on the pillows pressed against the headboard, 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 burns a trail up 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 bent on the bed. 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, cheeks hot. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ proved how horny you’ve been 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 flashes 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 tightens 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, 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. “with your cock…your cum….”
“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. hard. 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 he presses his lips against yours. he swallows your moans, snapping his hips with a mean hard thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.
and you love it.
the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the pools strobe lights, 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 your 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, it won’t make me stop.”
and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. engorged tip bruising your cervix with every snap of his sharp fit hips. he’s harder than usual, and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight into each thrust — you don’t push him away.
“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ his voice breaks, 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 harsh humps, burying himself deep inside you, you’re sliding against the mattress. the rasp in his throat has you holding onto him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is on top of your smaller body.
and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.
“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters. “when you’re ovulating.”
“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”
he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, nah 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 aren’t stuffed with loads of his cum.
“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, your face burn, and your heart skip a beat…you don’t comment on it. you don’t address it. 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 :’(
( 18+ mdni ) frat!sukuna fumbled what could’ve been love, and now he’s helplessly chasing after you. part 1 / part 2
fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t take rejection well. not because he’s used to having everything handed to him— though, let’s face it, he is— but because the thought of you walking out of his life makes him physically ill. he tried pretending he wasn’t fazed at first, leaning back on the couch with his usual sharp-toothed grin when his frat brothers teased him about what happened. “y/n?” he scoffed, playing it off. “she wasn’t even that special. just another girl. plenty more where she came from.” but there’s a tightness in his chest now that wasn’t there before, and when the laughter dies down and he’s left alone in his room with your name burning in his mind, reality punches him square in the gut. he fucked up. he really fucked up.
you’re gone. really gone.
fratboy!sukuna whose smooth reputation starts to unravel. at first, he tries to brush it off like nothing happened, and maybe the others buy it. but sukuna isn’t eating. he’s skipping practices, skipping classes, surrounded by half-drunk bottles of jack and filled ashtrays that stink up the room. his room feels bigger now, quieter, almost suffocating, and no matter how many times he tries to drown himself in distractions— shots, parties, even other girls dragging their hands over his chest, it doesn’t fucking work because none of them are you.
you weren’t supposed to mean anything, but now you haunt him. you’re in the curve of every laugh that doesn’t sound like yours, in the soft scent of your shampoo that still lingers on his stupid bedsheets no matter how many times he washes them. he aches for the glimpse of you in his classes, on campus, anywhere, but you’ve tucked yourself away from his world, leaving him drowning in a sea of mistakes he’ll never get to undo.
he doesn’t even realize how bad it’s gotten until one of his frat brothers mentions, “you hear she’s been hanging out with gojo?”
fratboy!sukuna who freezes, tension coiling in his chest so hard it feels like he might snap. “gojo?” he asks, eyes narrowing as he leans back in his chair like this isn’t a big fucking deal, like his heart hasn’t just started pounding harder in his chest. “that fucking nerd? the dude who hangs around the library and pretends like he’s better than everyone?”
his brothers laugh, oblivious to the storm building in sukuna’s head. “yeah, man,” one of them replies. “he tutors her in math or chemistry or some shit. heard they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”
that’s it. that’s all it takes to ruin whatever fragile piece of self-control sukuna has left. he sits quietly, his expression unreadable except for the sharp, tell-tale tick in his jaw. but inside, he’s seething. bitter jealousy claws at him, curling in his belly like hot poison. the image of you with gojo— gojo with his obnoxious glasses and clean-cut, self-righteous attitude— makes sukuna sick.
because sukuna knows guys like gojo. he’s thoughtful, polite, safe— the kind of guy your parents would love. the kind of guy who’d ask how your day was, who’d hold your books for you, who wouldn’t tear your clothes off the second you walk into a room. but does he fuck you stupid the way sukuna did? does he know how you squirm when someone’s fingers tweak that one spot between your thighs, or how you go from a sweet little angel to a fucking mess when he pins you down and makes you take it? no. he doesn’t know you like i do.
sukuna knows all of this. he knows gojo could never take you apart the way he can, but that doesn’t stop the bile from rising in his throat whenever he hears his friend mutter something like, “i think y/n’s into him.”
he’s not in any position to be mad. he knows that. but fuck, it doesn’t matter when gojo’s name is all he can hear, and the thought of you slipping further from his grasp turns into white-hot rage bubbling under his skin.
fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t even realize how pathetic he looks when he starts trying to fix this. it starts small— running into you “accidentally” on campus, trying to force his usual cocky grin as he leans against hallway lockers and says, “hey, stranger. you avoiding me or something?” but you barely meet his gaze, brushing past him with nothing more than a cold, “what does it matter?” he tries texting you. his fingers hover over his phone for hours, typing, deleting, then typing again until, finally, he sends, ‘we need to talk’.
no response.
so he tries another approach. he shows up to the same library you’ve started hiding in, dragging his big, hulking frame into the back corner where you sit buried behind books. your eyes widen when he says your name— always your full name, spoken with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine— and he swears he catches a flicker of emotion behind your glasses.
“just give me five minutes,” he pleads, uncharacteristically soft. not the loud, arrogant sukuna you’re used to. not the guy who always had some snarky remark ready. just a man who’s clearly losing his mind, desperate for even a crumb of your attention.
“no,” you reply shortly, returning to your notes even though your hands shake. “there’s nothing to talk about, sukuna.”
he lingers, his throat tight, fists clenched uselessly at his sides. he knows you’re shutting him out, but it doesn’t stop the words from slipping from his mouth in a low, heart-wrenching whisper, “i’m sorry.”
he’s sorry for everything— the dare, the way he couldn’t tell you sooner. but you don’t look up, even though he can see the way your pen falters just slightly in your hand.
“if you were sorry,” you murmur after a long pause. “you wouldn’t have done any of it.”
fratboy!sukuna who realizes nothing— not his smirks, not his charm— will pull you back. everything he did wrong has cemented itself too deep. you don’t believe him. not when all he’s ever been to anyone else is a walking red flag. so one night, after stewing in his jealousy and self-loathing, after imagining your stupid fucking times with gojo on a loop, sukuna snaps. he shows up at your dorm unannounced, pounding on the door like his life depends on it.
you groan when you crack the door open, only to freeze when you see him. he’s disheveled— dark under-eyes, hair a wilder mess than usual. it’s like he hasn’t slept in days. “sukuna,” you hiss as you glance over your shoulder for your roommate. “what the hell—”
“are you seeing him?” he blurts suddenly, leaning into the doorway, his low voice strained and almost... pleading? he’s never looked at you like this before, not with his walls broken down, not this fucking wrecked over anyone.
“you’re showing up at my dorm for this?” you spit, defensive. but when your voice wavers, he knows the question landed exactly how he wanted it. you’re shaken, even if you hide it well.
“i just need to know,” he says, softer now, his large hand pressing flat to the doorframe. “is it true? is he the one you’re fucking around with now?”
you exhale sharply, trying to slam the door, but sukuna pushes it back open. “damn it, y/n,” he growls, his voice breaking slightly. “just fucking talk to me. does he make you happy? does he even know the first thing about you? does he make you feel the way i did when i—” he cuts himself off, swallowing roughly, like admitting any of this aloud hurts more than he expected.
you glare, crossing your arms tight over your chest. “why does it matter? you don’t get to be mad, sukuna.”
“because i love you!” he shouts suddenly, louder than he intended, the words punctuated with raw frustration. they echo down the hallway of your dorm, a sharp admission that knocks the air from your lungs.
everything stalls for a second as you try to process his words— the way his voice cracked, the way his broad shoulders sag after he says it like he’s finally given in to whatever feeling he’s been fighting. “i love you,” he repeats, quieter this time, more desperate. “fuck, i’ve loved you from the moment you smiled at me. i know i don’t deserve you. i know i fucked it all up, but i—”
“stop.” your hand trembles on the door, cutting him off even though tears sting your eyes. because this is what you wanted to hear. this is everything you wished he’d told you weeks ago, before everything shattered. but now? now you don’t know if you can trust him.
“i meant it,” he mutters, his tall frame leaning closer as if begging you to believe him. “none of this was supposed to happen. i wasn’t supposed to fall for you. but i did. i don’t want anyone else, y/n. just... you.”
for a moment, you almost let yourself believe him. almost let yourself fall for that soft, pleading look pooling in his sharp crimson eyes. but instead, you wipe your tear-streaked cheek and whisper, “it’s too late.” and then, before he can stop you, the door clicks shut in his face.
fratboy!sukuna who stands dumbfounded in front of your door for what feels like hours, his head tilted back against the frame as he curses himself for never realizing what he had until it was gone. no parties feel the same, no walks across campus, not even the stupid dares his friends egg him on for. he used to own this place, the loudest and cockiest guy on campus, but now he feels like a ghost— his head spinning with the sound of your voice telling him it’s too late.
maybe it is. maybe it isn’t. he has no idea. all sukuna knows is that no matter who else he touches, no matter what he does to fill the hole you’ve left behind, nothing will ever come close to you.
⊹ + * ⊹ °. * ✧
idk if i’m very good at this angst shit, but i tried LOL sukuna is suffering real bad in this fswsfs. also, are y’all taking him back or cutting him off for good ??? 👀👀👀👀👀👀 #lmk
Synopsis . The last thing you told your ex-best friend before he was dragged off to jail for arson was one well-deserved, 'fuck you.' Five years later, he broke out of prison, and now he's coming to make good on those words. (nonnie req)
Pairing . fugitive!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, rough sex, possessiveness, a hint of yandere!sukuna, implied stalker!sukuna, manhandling, heavy tension, confessions, creampies, mirror sex, manipulation, jealousy, full nelson, filth, sukuna’s quite literally insane, heavy yearning, violence, major pain kink, toxicity, dirty talk, slight angst, blood, pet names, praise, degrading, he has a dick tattoo, spitting, squirting, orgasm denial/edging, biting, breeding kink, obsession, reader in denial, death threats, attempted murder (?), making up for lost time, etc. / wc . 9.7k
A/N: This might be one of the craziest things I've ever written... Banner art by Rororogi Mogera. (Kinktober Masterlist.)—Ignore how we’re well into November now. Not proofread, sorry if there's any errors! [MDNI]
Your best friend tried to kill you.
Multiple times, in fact. That was the harsh reality of having a man like Sukuna as your closest friend; he was absolutely insane.
Piss him off even the slightest bit and he was sending you all sorts of violent threats, no matter who you were. So, for some reason, when it came on to you—the only friend bold enough to put up with him for the past ten years—he always made sure to follow through on those threats of his.
And as of recently, the man had set your house on fire as you were inside. For what? Oh nothing, just overhearing you have the audacity to refer to another man that wasn’t him as your best friend.
Totally not an overreaction.
——
You remember being laid across your bed, phone in hand as you yapped away to a new friend of yours. Now, you and this friend got along because he was the complete opposite of Sukuna. He didn’t threaten you over petty things, didn’t curse you out and call you mean nicknames, and most importantly, he wasn’t batshit crazy.
While you were busy half-listening to your friend’s voice on the line, you began to smell the faint scent of something acrid. The smell made your face scrunch up, nose crinkling as your brows furrowed and you glanced around your room. You thought that maybe you could’ve left the stove or oven on somehow, even though you don’t remember turning either of those things on..
The scent reminded you of burnt toast if it was intensified to the third degree so, clearly something was burning.
“Are you even listening to me…?” The man on your phone grumps. You could practically picture the pout on his lips, “Hellooo?”
Shaking out of what’s got your expression shifting, “Yeah-, yes, I’m here,” You replied hurriedly, “Sorry, Satoru, gimme a second.” You end up telling him as that smell from the first floor of your home began to grow stronger.
The whole thing was making you very uneasy and it didn’t take much for you to feel the panic seeping up into your veins as you slipped out of your bed and went rushing towards your door. As soon as you opened it, you were smacked in the face with clouds of thick, black smoke that made you cough, bringing one hand up to cover your nose as you ducked and walked out into the wall of heat coating your home’s air.
“You alright over there?” Gojo had asked you, having heard your coughs and even catching a faint crackling as the phone picked it up into the call.
Between another cough, “Yeah, m’fine,” You say jokingly, “My house is just on fire.”
“What??” He gasps, taking in the full severity of the situation, “Shouldn’t you be calling the cops or something?”
You’re leisurely making your way down the hall with your nose still covered and your body slightly hunched over so you don’t inhale too much smoke. This isn’t the first time a certain someone has set something of yours on fire so you suppose that’s why you’re more annoyed than you are scared as you make your way to the edge of your staircase.
Standing there, you lean into the phone a little more. “Yeah, I’m getting to it…” You tell Gojo, easing your way down the steps to peak around the corner and see that the fire is much bigger than what you were expecting.
Again, this isn’t the first time that “best friend” of yours went setting shit on fire in your house. But, this is the first time he set your actual house aflame. Your eyes widen and all that casualty you previously had died inside you as big, wild flames pop and crackle with heat from your living room.
“Oh shit,” You gasped, “S-Satoru, I’ll call you back.”
“Are you oka—“ Before he could even finish, you were hanging up and moving with shaky fingers to dial the police.
And somewhere under all those flames, you swore you heard laughing. Sick, maniacal, and twisted laughter—a sound of which you’d come to recognize anywhere.
Everything that happens after that is one big ugly blur of events. Such an innocent night had turned into something foul all because you’d called Gojo one of your best friends earlier in the day. You don’t even know how the fuck Sukuna got wind of that comment but low and behold, he was the one who set your living room on fire.
The cops were called shortly after you’d discovered the flames and you remember having to be transported out safely in the arms of one hulky blonde fireman, who Sukuna then tried to attack before he was swiftly arrested and pinned to the ground by policemen.
Outside of your home, the two of you had argued back and forth from a distance while they worked cuffs over his wrists. You don’t remember the details of what you’d shouted at him as most of what you spewed was in anger but you do still picture the crazed smile the man had on his face every time you said something especially vicious to him. That was exactly why he liked you so much–, or rather, liked being your friend so much.
Sukuna always adored how you never let him walk all over you, even after he’d literally burnt a part of your house down.
Somewhere between him getting arrested and that sweet blonde fireman—who’s name you noted as Nanami—Sukuna happened to see a gently clothed hand cleanse your face from the few ashes that’d covered your features. The only thing you heard was a snap as he’d broken out of the cuffs and launched himself forward.
It was an even bigger mess from then on.
You barely remember seeing that poor fireman get punched in the face, to which you jumped up, went swinging at Sukuna and… yeah, it was bad. Really bad.
It took multiple police officers and firefighters to pry the two of you off of one another. Well, more like to pry you off of him. You’d landed multiple blows to his face and quickly caused his nose to bleed but, the thing about that entire altercation that had you livid was the fact that he was smiling throughout each second of it.
This was another thing that wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to do. You’d done almost everything under the sun towards one another within the past ten years that you were acquainted—which yes, includes fighting one another. Though, the fighting in question mostly consisted of you hitting him and Sukuna just taking it.
He may have been crazy in every other field imaginable but he'd, surprisingly, never hit a woman. Especially not you.
While you'd been beating up on the man and just before the officers had pulled you two apart, you do remember one more little detail that still manages to cling to your mind to this day.
It was just as an officer had shouted something along the lines of, "Stop right there!" that you recall the glint in Sukuna's eyes dimming and the way his smug smirk flickered. It seemed like reality had finally settled back into his head for a moment and even though you still had a partially bloodied fist hoisted up, ready to land on his face again, you swear that second stretched out longer than it should've before his voice came out ever so softly.
"Fun's over, huh?" Sukuna had whispered to you, as if he somehow knew and fully expected this to be his last moment seeing you. He understood that he was going to jail for all this but that wasn't exactly his biggest concern.
His main thing here was that he had to accept the fact that you probably hate him now—
"Fuck you." You spat, finally, before he could even finish his thought.
If the pill wasn't a tough one to swallow previously, it damn sure was then.
You were pulled off of him seconds later and he was dragged away—this time towards the back of a police car—and although there was something distant and somber about the way his eyes still lingered on you and that same fireman who came to help you, he kept those two words of yours in the forefront of his mind.
After all, it was the last thing you'd said to him.
“Are you okay?” Nanami ended up asking you as he stepped impossibly closer and was quick to tend to you as if his condition wasn't worse off. Concern was etched all into his features but, even though you heard him, your eyes were busy fixed onto Sukuna.
You managed a nod and felt the man's hands reach for yours to clean the blood off of them. You should've been able to take your eyes off of the same guy who literally just set your house on fire and then proceeded to attack someone just for helping you.
And yet, there you were, letting Nanami's smooth suggestion of, "Let’s get you checked out,” flow through one ear and out the other.
Even as he gently pulled you away from the scene, your mind was one big mess of confliction. You're supposed to hate Sukuna now, obviously. He was insane!
But... he's always been that way and somehow, you've always forgiven him for it. Maybe it was because there was more good with him than there was bad. Or perhaps it was because he was the only man you knew could match your crazy.
Part of you wanted to go and fight for Sukuna's freedom after the whole ordeal, y'know, that really delusional and stupid part of you. And the other half of you knew that the sensible thing to do here was to leave him where he was. Maybe a couple years in jail would do him some good.
Right?
——
That was five years ago from now, where your home has since been repaired and free of the violent crimes of which your ex-best friend committed against you.
Luckily, you listened to the logical half of your brain and went against fighting for his freedom or contacting him at all, no matter how many times you found yourself missing him.
These days you try to convince yourself that you don't even think about him as much but, every time you bring a new guy into your life it just feels weird or, something feels like as though it were crawling up your spine. Especially if you tried to talk to someone romantically.
You'd always experience this odd lump of guilt eating away at you and it made you feel strange considering the fact that you should feel free of Sukuna's control over you and who you date. You'd been in relationships before he was locked up, after all.
Even though most of them ended in the weirdest ways...
You remember how one guy told you how he didn't want to die just for dating you. At the time you laughed it off, thinking he was being dramatic, but looking back on it now... perhaps Sukuna had something to do with it?
There was also the time a guy completely ghosted you just a few days after you'd both admitted you were in love with one another. You don't know what that was all about but, again, looking back on it now...
To take your mind off of the man you're not supposed to be thinking about, you end up fishing for your remote after plopping down on your living room couch. The TV soon flicks on and you shove all thoughts of your ex-best friend into the very back of your mind where he belongs.
He's exactly where he's supposed to be now anyway; rotting in a cell somewhere.
On a brighter note, for the past five years straight you've been living your best life. For the most part, anyway.
You and that nice blond fireman got closer through the years and he often comes over to your house to give you some company after you'd explained how Sukuna was your closest friend years ago. You know Nanami visits you out of pity but, you never exactly reject him.
The only unfortunate thing about that situation is the fact that every time he flirts with you, you can't find it in yourself to reciprocate. There's nothing wrong with him and he'd be a good fit for you, truly. The issue here is that you can't ignore how wrong you feel when you're with him.
He could be doing nothing more than sitting on your couch watching TV with you and yet you felt as though you had Sukuna's eyes burning into the very back of your skull—watching, judging, daring. There was even a time you and Nanami tried kissing. He wasn't bad at it and neither were you, something was just wrong about it and you didn't know what it was.
Perhaps Sukuna had unconsciously conditioned you into some sort of deep rejection towards anyone that wasn't him and you hadn't realized it.
Things only became clear for you when the same thing happened with Gojo. Who you tried going on dates with, tried to let spoil you, and even tried sleeping with. All of which failed miserably, especially that last little act. You'd felt off the entire time, so much so that you don't even think you were turned on.
Which was crazy to think about considering he's Gojo Satoru! It's not like you weren't into him.
He'd treated and touched you better than any guy ever had before—as did Nanami—but maybe that was the problem. Maybe you didn't want something that was smooth and gentle with you. Maybe you needed the craziness you only knew to come with the asshole sitting in prison right now.
Or at least... the asshole that was sitting in prison.
The moment your TV finally turns on, there's a news report playing that instantly snatches up your attention and makes every vein in your body run cold. The report ahead explains how a man who'd been convicted for arson had recently escaped prison and has been on the run for at least three days now.
You swallow thickly and your eyes quickly flock around to various corners of your house. Three days? Logically speaking—and not like you looked this up before or anything but—that's about the same amount of time it would take for him to get to your house on foot...
You turn back to your TV and sink further into your couch, turning the volume up to listen intently to the rest of the report before you drive yourself insane. The fugitive could be anyone after all. Arson is a pretty common crime to commit, isn't it?
"—The man is said to be at least six feet tall with pink hair, dark red eyes, and tattoos all over his face," The woman on your screen adds on suddenly before a mugshot pops up just a few inches away from her.
Aaaand fuck, it's him.
You immediately shoot up from your seat and start rushing around your house to make sure all the doors are locked and that every window is shut tightly. Hell, you even consider bordering up all exits and entryways.
The sound of your heart racing in your chest thumps all the way up against your eardrums as you fight with the increasing sensation of paranoia rising within you. You move all throughout your home, slamming doors shut and double-checking each lock with slightly trembling hands.
You hate how all it took was one little report to have you all anxious and thinking about him again. It's been five years. Maybe you saw the report wrong, maybe it was about that younger, identical nephew of his...
No, no, that doesn't even make sense. He was just a kid the last time you saw him and from what you remember, he wants to be nothing like his crazy ass uncle.
Fuck.
Over six feet tall, pink hair, dark red eyes, tattoos all over his face... Only one person fits that description and you know it.
Fuck.
You saw his face too, you can't just ignore that and try to convince yourself it isn't him.
The news is still playing off in the background, echoing throughout the walls of your house almost hauntingly now as you struggle to ignore the punctuating reality of Sukuna no longer being behind bars.
"He's not coming here," You mutter to yourself, despite the suddenly pounding memories of him flooding right back into the forefront of your mind.
Fuck.
It's been five years, there's no way he's going to escape from prison just to come torment you again. Or worse, to come get revenge from you not coming to see him all this time...
Then again, if you still can't help but think about him in moments where you really shouldn't be, he's probably been doing the same thing. Hell, you're probably the only thing on his mind right now.
Something in your chest throbs at the mere idea. You don't know why that invoked such a physical reaction from you, it's not like you've ever liked the guy or anything like that.
Aside from the first few years of your friendship when you had the biggest crush on him.
But that was fifteen years ago, feelings like that don't linger this long. Feelings like that shouldn't linger for this long, not after he's burned down a quarter of your house and has been sent off to jail for it.
For a moment you consider dialing the police but, what exactly would they do aside from send an officer or two out to your house for the night? Your phone is in your hands now and all you're doing is staring at the screen with a million thoughts in your head.
You can't call the police, that'd just end in another big brawl between you and Sukuna before he's arrested again and, unfortunately, the last thing you feel like doing is fighting anymore. You don't think you have the energy for that, especially not this late into the night. So, you end up pocketing your phone and instead head back to your living room.
Up until you hear a sudden thud from somewhere behind your house.
Your heart sinks into your ass and you freeze. Straining your ears to catch more sounds, you slowly turn on your heels and creep back towards your kitchen. The floorboards beneath your steps creak softly but you swear you hear a distance set of steps creeping around as well.
Yet, when you stop, the sound stops as well.
So perhaps you were just driving yourself insane?
Yeah, that's probably it. It's been five whole years, Sukuna would not spend all that time thinking about you and then turn around and come back to the same woman who got him thrown into jail. He's crazy but he's not that crazy.
Taking one more stretchy moment to let the silence linger on, you release a long sigh and pace into your kitchen. Just in case, you still want to have a weapon on you in the event that your delusions turn out to be true.
Right before you reach the knives, the sound of your house phone ringing like something out of a cliche slasher movie cuts through the air and easily scares the shit out of you.
Flinching, you hurry over to it and scramble about to get the phone into your hands properly, quickly lifting it up to your ear. "Hello?" You call out with a slightly shaky voice.
At first there's no sound, just static. Which, of course makes you want to hang up.
You've never been a fan of scary shit and the only person who knows that about you is Sukuna. So if the creepy silence was telling you anything, it's that it was definitely him—
"Hey, have you seen the news?" Gojo's voice rings out to you after one too many deafening seconds of eerie silence.
With a heavy sigh of relief, you almost smile into the phone. Thank God it's just him. "Yeah," You reply half-breathily, "Of course I saw it."
There's a slight sound of shuffling over the phone and you think you hear keys for a moment, "Do you want me to come over? Y'know, just in case that maniac shows up?"
You're shaking your head before speaking, "No, no, you don't have to do all that, Satoru. I'm fine-, it's fine."
"You don't sound fine..." He points out.
You roll your eyes for a moment, hating how well he's gotten to know you over the past few years. Leaning against your kitchen counter a little, you glance over at the knives just a few inches away from you, "How do I sound then?"
Gojo scoffs harmlessly, "Shaken up."
You're quiet for a moment and within it, it's almost like your breathing is echoing around you. Ignoring the intensified sound, you shake your head and shut your eyes for a second to ground yourself, "I'm fine, really."
The man over the phone lets out a long hum and you could almost hear the skeptical look on his face, "I'd be over in fifteen minutes top, y'know... I just-"
"Satoru," You cut off gently, "Seriously, I'm okay. I... I know how to handle myself and I doubt he's even coming here. It's been three whole days after all. He's probably on the other side of the country by now."
"Right..." Gojo trails off for a moment before shrugging, even though you can't see it. "Well, if you're sure. Just uh," He clicks his tongue slightly and leans into the phone, voice getting a little louder against your ear, "Call me if you need anything."
"I will, I will." You promise, "Goodnight, Satoru. A-And don't call my house phone anymore, you scared the shit out of me."
He chuckles, "Sorry, you weren't picking up your cell so I got a little worried. But, yeah, goodnight, sweetheart."
You place the house phone back into its original place and the call ends there. Your hand lingers on top of the phone for a bit before you slowly slide your touch away and let your shoulders relax.
All the tension that'd been there just a moment ago has died down a little and you feel calmer now.
See? Everything is perfectly fine.
But, it wouldn't hurt to grab one of those knives just in case...
Fishing through the knife holder, you eventually pluck one up and bring it closer to you for inspection. You let the blade's end tap against your finger softly to make sure it's sharp, not exactly cutting yourself but just checking it out. Then, you breathe out another sigh as if to steady yourself again.
You had a weapon and you could call up Gojo if anything else went sideways so, everything was okay.
Just as you turn around, that last little thought of yours is practically fucked out of your head violently. There's a tall, brooding frame of a man standing a few feet away from you inside of your kitchen, the sight of him enough to make your entire body flinch with a physical force strong enough for you to drop the knife you just picked up.
You shoot down for the weapon you dropped and scramble it back up into your hands before rising up to your feet again, seeing that the man who'd just scared you hasn't moved an inch.
As your breath remains uneven and weighted with fear, the male inside your house is standing there with that signature smile of wickedness plastered all over his face. Cocking a thick pink brow, which you notice has two slits in one them, "'Sweetheart', huh?" He drawls, voice all dense with a baritone that fills every inch of the space between you both.
Your eyes are wide and frantic, running over every bit of your ex-best friend standing before you, trying to figure out whether or not this is real or just some fucked up nightmare. His hair, that same bright pink you know it to be, is all unkempt and wild atop his head as his eyes, low-lidded and dark, steadied onto yours.
"What the hell are you doing here?" You hiss out slowly, sounding unsure in your own tone given the abundant sense of unease inside you.
You watch his lower, rose-toned lip get pulled in between his teeth at the mere sound of your voice before his head angles to the side in slow motion. Then he lets his crimson eyes drag up and down the expanse of your frightened frame and swallows up every inch of you with his gaze alone. It's only been a few seconds and you felt as though you were shrinking under him already, despite the distance between you.
Sukuna's voice carries out with the same rasp that never fails to drive you insane, "Awh, come now," He coos with a pout of mocking smearing across his face for a moment, "Is this any way to greet your best friend? Pointing a knife at me as if it hasn't been years since we've last seen one another."
Your eye twitches in annoyance, "You set my fucking house on fire!"
He visibly reacts to the elevation in your tone with a rise of his brows and a slight adjustment backwards as if you'd pushed at him. "Surely you're not still mad about that," He purrs lowly before taking a small step forwards and ignoring the blade you have aimed his way.
You shift backwards but you merely meet the counter and realize you'd have to run left or right if you wanted to escape him. That, and most of the exits are somewhere behind him.
"You need to leave," You breathe hotly, "Get out before I call the cops again or I swear to—"
"Call the cops again?" Sukuna scoffs loudly and his next step closer makes the floor groan distantly under his bulky frame, "You think they can keep me locked up forever? I escaped once, I can do it again." Now he's only a few more steps away from you and you've yet to pry yourself away from your spot.
You hate how you can hardly move under his gaze, as if you'd been put under some type of spell or something, your body condemned to stay in place.
"And do you know where I'll come once I do?" He adds on slowly, sneaking nearer until he's only one step away from your personal space. "Right," The distance lessens as he takes that final step, "Back," Sukuna extends an arm out and you feel it brush against your side as he places his hand on the counter behind you, his lips grazing your ear now, "To you." he finishes off in a chilling whisper.
You fall impossibly quieter and he pulls away from your ear just to meet eyes with you, leaving you there to stare up at him with years of and years of emotions floating around your gaze. You wanted to say something, anything, but the only thing you could manage was a subtle twitch of your lips. To which he took as an opportunity to fill the silence.
Tone almost vulnerable if you listened hard enough, "I just wanted to see you," Sukuna admits, almost like he'd missed you or something.
Your grip on that rather useless knife of yours tightens, as does the feeling in your chest. You're standing face to face with him now, halfway trapped between his large body and the counter behind you.
And as if to unintentionally ruin the moment, his eyes sink further along your frame, drinking in your lack of a response to him and instead letting his expression color itself in amusement as he leans down to you and whispers, “You look good.”
The heated, “Fuck you.” that pours past your lips is instantaneous. You didn't even have to think about the words before uttering them, nor do you regret saying them to him in such a distasteful tone.
Sukuna hums somewhere deeply in his throat and draws himself back just a bit, “That’s what I’m here for, brat.”
You blink, “What?”
“Don’t you remember?" He continues, eyes studying every curve and twitch in your face as if he'd forgotten how expressive you could be. "All those years ago, that’s what you asked me to do, isn’t it?”
Your lashes are batting with perplexity now, “I didn’t ask you to do shit-”
“Well, that is the last thing you said to me.” He cuts off quickly. Then his hand moves off of the counter behind you and you instinctively draw your knife up, the tip of the blade tickling his chin and causing his head to tip back some. There's a faint hitch in his breath as he's caught off guard ever so faintly.
Testingly, your eyes remain vexing and pointing upwards on his, “So?”
His hand carefully reaches your wrist and his fingers curl around it, his touch a sense of gentleness you've never felt from him before. Sukuna was touching you as if you were made of some kind of porcelain—liable to break at any given moment. Which, naturally, had you even more pissed off. It lets you know that five years away from you did nothing but make him think he'd left you all fragile and on the edge of breaking or something.
“Are you really gonna sit there and act like you didn’t miss me all this time?" The fugitive questions further, voice an annoying cadence of softness. It was so out of character for him that it made you feel even more uneasy standing in front of him.
Something wasn't right here.
“I didn’t," You claim as if you hadn't spent over half of those five years doing exactly that.
“Mh," Sukuna hums again and this time his lips twitch back up into that usually smug smile, voice dropping, "Yeah? Is that what helps you sleep at night?”
To combat with his never ending smugness, you try to appear as nonchalant about it as you can and drag out your little white lie some more, “Yup.”
“Tch.” He's quickly irritated by that one word threading past your lips with such indifference, “So I set your house on fire one time and now all of a sudden ten years of friendship don’t mean shit to you?” He asks.
The statement itself was almost more concerning than the fact that he'd done that to you. You'd think five years in confinement would help a person think over their actions and actually consider the wrong in their crimes but apparently Sukuna Ryomen wasn't prone to such a thing.
“You tried to kill me, asshole.” You remind him for the nth time.
He talks half a step away from you and chuckles, “I’d never do something like that and you know it. If that fire had hurt you that day, I’d never forgive myself for it.” Sukuna claims in a weirdly endearing way.
You hate how that makes your chest do that weird clenching thing again, as if his words still had an honest affect on you after all this time. Somewhere distantly in your mind, you were screaming at yourself about how you should've called the police on him again when you had the chance, while you were still somewhat in your right mind. But now it was too late, you were already wrapped around his finger tightly with no desire to unravel yourself from him.
Before you can manage out another jab, he ends up bringing one of those large hands of his up to his sharpened jawline and then runs his palm over it carefully, gaze drooling out an emotion you don't care to acknowledge right now, “And I meant what I said,” He whirs, “You look good.”
Finally rolling your eyes elsewhere, “You shouldn’t be here.” You deflect.
Sukuna obviously doesn't move, “You’re not telling me to leave.”
“You need to.”
“Do you want me to?” He retorts, taking the following long second of silence as a decent enough response from you, “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
After which you allow yourself a moment to finally take the sight of him in. He's not as close as he was before which is somewhat helpful to your buzzing nerves but... fuck, he got even hotter within the time he's been gone.
Sukuna's always been tall but you swear he's grown a few more inches. All his features are sharper and more defined as if he hadn't let a day go by without properly taking care of himself, despite being locked away for so long. His body is staggering more so now than ever before as he stands in front of you clad in nothing more than a crisp white T-shirt and the rest of his prison jumper sitting low on his hips.
Now, this shouldn't be as distracting as it is but, as soon as you look down you can't help the way your eyes widen at the sight of the slightest sliver of smooth skin peeking out from the space between his lower abdomen and his pelvis. That bright orange fabric was way too low on his hips and you're sure he was aware of it too.
The toned V-line of his was adorned with trails of teasing veins that led to something you swore yourself up and down you didn't want to think about at all. But of course, it's hard not to think about it when you see that heavy tent in his crotch. You always knew Sukuna was... packing but, most times when you'd acknowledged it, you tried to shove the thought away just as quickly as it came.
It's a little hard to do that now when he's standing right in front of you watching you watch him. You don't even realize the way your eyes all but linger there as your lips part and a soft breath ghosts past them.
Then you're speaking your mind without thinking first, “You got… bigger.”
Your eyes are still glued to that outline of something bulky in his pants just before you hear him scoff at your shamelessness and force yourself to look up again. Sukuna's eyes look hungrier now. Shit, that wasn't your intention at all. You're should be kicking him out of your house right now-
“That’s what five years in a cell does to someone, woman," The man drawls, voice a pitch lower already.
One little moment of taking in his appearance and he was already feeling the effect you had on him. Moving your gaze away from his starved one, you resort to studying his now folded arms and how hefty they are tucked over his even broader chest. The tattoos across his skin still seemed as fresh as ever, almost as if not a day had ever gone by.
Clearing your throat and ignoring how hot you start to feel when your mind flashes an image of those same arms around you, “F-Five years in that cell and you still can’t even address me by my-” You're cut off when he looms closer all of a sudden, causing your stammered words to die out in your throat somewhere. He's mute as he draws close and then cranes his head down to your neck, inhaling you sharply. “...What are you doing?” You ask slowly, heart beginning to do that loud thumping thing again.
“You smell like another guy,” Sukuna utters a few inches away from your skin. It was almost as though he could see the scent of someone else on you before he even leaned in like that.
It gave you chills.
Trying to laugh his actions off again, you end up reaching a free hand up to his chest to try and lightly push him away, “What are you, a dog?”
“Woof," wisps out of his lips in a half-joking manner but with the way it slathers against your skin before the tip of his nose replaces the sensation as he zeros in on your neck, you're left struggling with a million and one emotions.
“The fuck…?” You whisper to yourself.
He only chuckles at your reaction, finding it rather cute, “Is that what I have to be to get in your good graces again?" Sukuna asks as his face adjusts to your neck and his teeth graze you, "Some kind of mutt?"
"No," You scoff, "Y-You're never getting in my good graces again." Your hand pushes at him again but even he could tell you don't mean anything by the gesture. Especially considering how you finally place your knife down somewhere behind you.
To which he smiles knowingly, "Oh yeah?"
"...Yeah," You manage out softly, turning your head to try and see what exactly he's doing.
"You don't sound so confident," Sukuna utters into your skin as if to let his words tattoo themselves into the area.
And hey, maybe you didn't sound confident because you weren't. So instead of searching for something new to say to him in response, you fall back on the same thing you've been saying to him for as long as you can remember. Angling your head elsewhere as you scoff a neatly said, "Fuck you."
"You keep saying that," He replies quickly while steadily gliding his head away from your neck and lifting. It's then that you're made well aware of how close he is to you now. Such little distance remains from his face to yours and all it would take is a short lean downwards for his lips to be against yours if either of you wished it so, "And I'm starting to think you want me to." He finishes off bluntly.
You blink out of your temporary daze just then, "What?"
"Fuck you," Your ex-best friend half-way clarifies, "It seems like you want me to fuck you."
"You-," Your words pause whilst your lashes flutter over one another, mind troubling itself trying to wrap around the audacity he seemed to carry after all this time. "You can't set my house on fire, go to jail for it, and then come back to me years later and try to sleep with me," You remind the man as you carry your stern gaze back up onto his, "Time does not equate to an apology, asshole."
Sukuna cocks a brow and bites back a laugh at the sound of that, "Is that what you need from me? A measly little apology?"
You scoff, "No, I don't need one from you but it would be nice-"
"I'm sorry." He says frankly, "Now, what else can I do to make up for it, hm?" His other hand presses behind you and you're trapped between both of his bulky arms before you even realize it, his voice dropping a tone and making the moment all the more intimate, "One thousand, eight hundred, and twenty nine days in which I have not seen nor heard from you and yet," You watch as his head tilts slowly and his eyes cascade down to the curve of yours lips, "You expect me to pry myself away from you?"
"Sukuna," You whisper, feeling almost suffocated in the lack of space between the two of you. Every fiber of his being was swallowing you up by the second and yet no matter how consuming it all felt, you couldn't find it in yourself to want to pull away.
You're unsure why his name even tiptoes past your lips like that when you carry no sort of argument against him any more. Sure, you should hate him now-, you think you still do but, it's hard to consider those emotions when he's so close.
Then his voice sinks another octave and your knees are feeling weak as his words exit him with something sinfully heated behind them, "I have missed you, achingly, for years," Sukuna claims, leaving you intoxicated in everything that pertains to him all over again. The tip of his finger meets your chin and forces your head further up, both of you now looking at the same thing now. "Yet you deny me. Why?" He questions.
You swallow thickly, as if that would lessen your nonexistent will to escape him, "You tried to kill me..." Your voice is meek and you hate every second of it, "Y-You set my house on fire."
The man fights with the smile that nearly broadens itself across his lips, "You remain unharmed."
"What about my home, Sukuna?" You ask in return, seeing as that is the most important thing here second to your well-being. Your tone is a little more sturdy now and he catches onto it, the sound making that undesirable glint in his irises return.
"It has been repaired, I see," He points out comically. After which his hand shifts and he holds the entirety of your jaw in his palm, thumb caressing your skin whilst he leans in and stops juuuust before his lips are on yours, "What more do you want from me?"
Your mouth trembles with the words that ached to leave them, unconsciously longing for the finality that is him kissing you at some point. You hated how in all the time he's been gone you'd done everything but move on and instead worked yourself up to a point so low in being touch-starved that you wanted to whine from the sheer closeness you shared with him alone.
"...Tell me why you did it." You eventually manage to demand from him.
He sighs but his answer is immediate, "You tried to replace me."
"What?" Your brows meet and your eyes shoot up to his, "No I didn't. I-I'd never-,"
"Gojo," Sukuna starts off interruptingly, allowing himself to meet those gorgeous pupils of pure vexing distaste he'd missed oh-so-graciously, "The fireman..."
"You can't be serious," You spat as you barely made an attempt to tug your chin out of his hold.
The effort you make is completely in vain since he only tightens his grip and this time tugs you impossibly closer, your breaths intertwining with one another now. "Forgive me," He demands, lips grazing the skin of yours as he does so.
Your mind halts every thought for a moment. The way he was looking at you alone was enough for you to have forgiven him a long time ago. Hell, you almost forget you were ever even mad with him to begin with. Sputtering, "I-I can't just-"
"Then let me apologize properly," Sukuna cuts off smoothly, words practically seeping out directly into your mouth now.
And all you could do was swallow down each one, completely entrapped in every thread of seductive manipulation he'd woven into you over the years. Your statement is airy as it strings out of you slowly, "You shouldn't even be here."
"I'm here because you need me to be," He protests.
You detest how true that may be but, you lie anyway, "No, I don't."
"Your body betrays your claims," The fugitive points out in the same way he always had whenever he saw directly through you, "Just look at the way you've leaned into my every touch as if you crave it—long for it, even," Sukuna continues on as his lips being to part over your own, ready to capture them in the sweetest, long overdue kiss. "Let me make my amends to you, woman." He requests of you kindly, shortly adding a borderline desperate, "Please."
——
You should never have given to that, really.
You were supposed to keep up with your act of stubbornness and not go back to your old ways of forgiving him no matter how wrong he did you. Yet, like any toxic relationship, you can't seem to find it in yourself to do that at all.
So here you are now, debauched and ruined in front of your own bedroom mirror. Having been put on display by the same man you were supposed to kick out of your home hours ago, you're busy bouncing up and down a looong expanse of his thick inches as he did nothing more than talk you to filth.
“Y’see this? See what’s all mine?” Sukuna rasps hotly against the sensitive shell of your ear, having one of his thick hands settled neatly onto the curve of your hips as he guides you up and down his swollen shaft with no sense of gentleness whatsoever. His other hand busies itself away with your jaw to keep your head facing the mirror just a few inches away from the edge of the bed where the two of you are sat, “Yeahhh, look how pretty she is taking all that cock. Taking all my cock. Uhuh..”
Your pussy is left swallowing up everything he stuffs up into you, singing out sloppy glistens of wetness and slick every time he hits that spot inside you no one else ever has or could before. All whilst your mouth dangles open, gorgeous strings of moans 'n whimpers gliding out of your throat and filling the air of your bedroom—the same bedroom he'd previously heard you talking to so many other guys in.
You never knew it of course; never knew that he had your entire home bugged from top to bottom, always listening to who you talked to and how you spoke to them. So five years ago, that might've been how he'd heard you call Gojo your best friend but, none of that matters much now. You're exactly where Sukuna has wanted you to be all this time.
“Fucked so stupid on it already,” He grunts at the way you're struggling to keep up your rhythm on top of him. “How cute,” Sukuna adds on cooingly, to which your cunt flexes ever so deliciously around his slobbering length.
Everything's a literal mess now.
You've got your neck plastered in spit and bite marks, all from the man who just swore he had to make sure you and anyone else who dare set their eyes on you after this knew you belonged to someone. The two of you have been at it for hours now and at this point you're hoping the police have long since forgotten about searching for him.
At some point you think you should've gone numb from the pleasure he'd given you but instead it was the exact opposite; you just couldn't get enough!
With the way your walls hugged the fat of his cock so snuggly every time he spoke, he couldn't help but carry out his teasing, “No one else has been in here, huh?” He asked, despite already being quite sure of the answer.
From drooly lips, “N-No, Sukuna,” You hardly manage out, especially with the way the wide crown of his cock is just thrashing up against your cervix, leaving the nastiest of kisses all against it so that you'll never forget the feeling, “Jus’ you.."
He smiles proudly at the sound of that and something in his chest swells dangerously. Hips bucking up faster-, harder to rudely knock up against the same place that's been gushing all over every inch of him for fuck knows how long now, "Really? So you were saving this pussy just for me, hm?”
“No,” You try huffing out. Instead, the short word comes out as more of a moan than anything but, all your syllables had been leaving you like that.
Just a few minutes ago he'd had you spread out over your bed and mumbled apologies into your cunt with nasty swirls of his tongue, inscribing every "sorry" into your walls with searing licks and lathers. It was the only time in all this that he'd gone somewhat quiet and instead let your pussy do the talking.
You hardly grasped what transpired from that to now since you're struggling to take everything he's giving you. Hell, you can barely get yourself to sink all the way down to that dark ink he's got wrapped around his cock, having told you that the tattoo there is—apparently—what you're supposed to be reaching with every thrust.
“Feels like you were,” He husks out thickly in between ragged breaths, grin only enlarging itself out across his slicked face, “Look at how sloppy she is around me,” And just as he says that, you're doing nothing more than watching the way your pussy lips drool so stupidly against the angry veins of his dick. To which he snickers into your ear just to tease you some more, “Such a wet lil' thing.”
You can't even control the way your head flops back somewhere against him, hips growing fatigued by the minute and throat hoarse from your pathetic mewls of pleasure, “Hnngh, S-Sukunaa."
The man only tuts before shaking his head a little to get the sweat-soaked pink locks of hair sticking to his forehead to move a bit, taking in the sight of how slovenly the both of you look right now.
With his lips sticking to the sensitive crest of your ear, he whispers ever so tentatively, “Made s’perfect for me,” A praise that only has you drenching the stretching girth that's tucked heavenly inside you, “Aren’t you?”
“M-Mhmm,” You agree instantly, of course. You think you've forgotten how to and the overall desire to deny him a long time ago from now.
Just then you feel a certain twitch spasming against your honeyed walls, causing a lewd squelch to ring out. Sukuna's breath gets even more breathier as his heavy balls ache for the release he's been saving just for you. “Slut,” He calls, almost as if that were your birth given name. “Look at me,” The same strong hand on your jaw forces your head to turn and your eyes meet his dilated pupils, “Can you feel that? Feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me? Hm?”
Just as he asks you all those dirty questions, you feel him rolling the rest of his cock deeper inside you, trying to make that slathered tattoo disappear all the way past your puffy folds already.
“Yes,” You croak pliantly, earning a mocked pout of his kiss-bitten lips.
“Yeah? How do I feel inside there, huh?” He asks, just to earn a soft whine out of your throat instead of proper response. Then he cocks his brow up, “S’good you can’t answer me properly? Poor thing—here," All. of your breath is ripped out of your lungs as he then moves both of his arms down to swoop under your thighs and lift them up and out. Followed by which is him finding the nerve to stand with you in his hold.
You quickly find yourself in a full nelson before you have the time to break out of your cockdrunken state. The drool from your lips drips out onto the floor with soft, nasty splatters that match what's currently leaking all off of his balls and onto the floor.
Oh, the sight is nothing short of pure filth.
But—naturally—Sukuna's not phased by the change of positions in the slightest, "Tell me if this is better for you.” He taunts.
Better for you? As if. You could feel a tingling sensation thrumming all throughout your legs as they reduced to utter mush in his arms, especially as he starts moving. His thick cock dives in and out of your leaking hole, creating the prettiest sounds of nastiness that reverberate throughout the space around you.
Sukuna spreads you out impossibly wider with his rugged, tattooed arms secured too neatly under the plush of your thighs, having you take him fully now. Your hips feel wobbly whilst he hauls you up and down his cock, leaving you to do nothing but sop up everything he slid so thoroughly into you.
You're gasping when his wiiiide cock lodges so suddenly against your sweetest spot, “Kuna’, c-can’t—mmgh! Fuck! M’gonna cum,” You pant heavily, adding on a cute whine of, “S'too much!”
He's kissing somewhere near your neck now but you're too focused on the feel of his weepy head against where you needed him most to realize. Not until he starts that raspy purring against your hot skin, “Again? You like my cock that much?”
“N-No,” You manage to argue playfully, “I just-, mmnh! I-I like the way you fuck me.”
“Oh really?” He scoffs instantaneously, as if offended for a second. “And yet look at this messy pussy," Sukuna directs, causing your attention to shift down at the way you've left the creamiest mess of release all around that dark ink of his. "Crying alll around the same cock she hates.”
“Ohfuck,” You gape, eyes watering up again when he bites down hard at your neck. Something deep in the pit of your stomach felt as though you were bursting and fuck did it feel good.
So good that you're driven straight into overstimulation for the nth time of the night, all while sobbing and pleading for something—though you're not quite sure what for. It's not like you wanted a break by this point, no, no, you were much more interested in him breaking you.
So why does your body start squirming in his arms all over the place as if to escape him? You've no idea.
“Don’t do that,” Sukuna starts scolding you the moment he catches onto it, arms bulging around your folded body and locking you in place, “Take it, since you like the way I fuck. Take it, every fuckin’ inch—none of these-," His head angles up to lick the streaming teardrops off of your cheeks, "Mmh… sweet-, tears. Awh, look at you trying to run from it. S'this too much for my slutty girl?” He sears into you.
“Sukuna, please,” You beg. For what? You're still unsure but by this point you're unsure about everything. The only thing you can think about is the way he feels inside you.
He's still breaking out that smug smile of his, taunting, “Please what?”
“I-I can’t—“ You don’t even know what you were trying to say with the way your mind blanks and you cream around the thick of his cock yet again.
“Shh, shh, listen to her," Sukuna instructs, letting your gasps and cunt become the loudest things in the room. “Y'Hear that? That’s what good sluts sound like when they get fucked right.” He explains to you, talking into your ear once more just to have you spasming all around him for the millionth time. The baritone in his voice gets impossibly heavier in the next second, “Hah, ready to hear how they get bred?”
In response, all you can do is clench around him and manage a lazy, fucked-out nod of your head.
“Ohhh, you are, huh?” He coos.
“Uhuhh,” You babble, “Please ‘Kuna... N-Need it."
A scratchy grunt tumbles up from his throat, “Need what? Say it for me.”
“Cum inside me,” You say fully and almost perfectly for the first time in hours, “Fuck me full.”
He almost does at the sound alone but for some reason, he feels as though he needed to hold out just a little longer. "S'that what you need?" Sukuna huffs, thrusts entirely uneven now with the way his pearly 'n dawdling cockhead thwacked around your insides with no more direct focus, just feral need. "You need my cum inside you?"
"Yes," You weep delightfully.
Your best friend can only manage another, "Fuck, I've missed you so much." at the sound of that. Then he's spilling every globbing rope of cum inside you. His thrusts punctuating to make sure it takes, "Thought about you every. single. day."
"Sukuna," Your head is turning elsewhere again and for some reason he hates that.
So he's rasping a needy, "Look at me," all over again, swallowing down the terribly plead that nearly jumped out of his throat. Masking the near level of patheticness he'd reached, "Now tell me you love me." he demands instead.
Your mind may be a mush of cockdrunk and fucked-stupid but you still carry that same strength to push his buttons one more time, "F-Fuck you,"
Sukuna groans harshly and turns around with you. One second you're held tightly in his hands and the next he's laying you down on the bed flat with a rough grab on your head just to push it against your bedsheets. The next few moans that leave your throat are broken and muffled as he plows into you in yet another new position—prone bone—and driving his fat cock into every quivering crevice of your cunt.
His free hand presses down against the newfound arch in your spine and his dick feels even thicker inside you somehow. Eyes fluttering, you end up giving in without him having to say anything else, "F-Fuck! I love you, 'Kuna..." You sob into the bed.
He tugs your head up by your hair with a sharp pull, "One more time f'me?"
"Hnngh, I l-love you," You whimper.
He chuckles as if he's aware of something you're not, "Oh, I know you do, sweetheart, I know." Then he's leaning down, wide, muscular body caging yours as he speaks carefully, "You're never gonna send me off like that again, right?"
"Never," You're choking now, his hard tip kissing that spot of yours yet again.
"So obedient," Sukuna comments whilst practically spelling his name out into your cunt, "All I have to do is give you some cock for you to obey my every word, huh?"
You're nodding like some idiotic whore now, "Mhmm.."
"What a slut." He scoffs—as if he isn't into it or something—and then lets his eyes glide down your gorgeously ruined body, "My slut though, isn't that right?"
You don't even try to think before speaking. The words easy fall past your lips in a wispy puff, "All yours S'kuna."
"Juuust as I fuckin' thought," He breathes out in return. And then with one last little snicker, his voice dips to something so quiet that you nearly miss the way he finishes off with a softened, "'Love you too, woman."
hide and seek starring landlord!Sukuna by @crude-saint
he ate my heart starring serial killer!Gojo by @sweethearticism
what do you fear? starring scarecrow!Gojo by @baepsays
overboard starring shark!Gojo by @iamsoclone
wrath starring slasher actor!Sukuna by @cupidstrace
handcuffs starring Toji by @leclercloveletters
mine to see starring invisible man!Gojo by @alygator77
the secrets of heaven and earth starring frankenstein!Gojo + frankenstein's monster!Sukuna by @its-luna-noel
trespasser starring kitsune!Geto by @bluukive
red sex starring pyramid head!Sukuna by @for-ests
camper turned monsterfucker? starring werewolf!Toji + vampire!Sukuna by @j3llyc4kes
dance with the devil starring incubus!Sukuna by @mimuju
brat taming starring dilf!Nanami by @eraserbread
i simply am not there starring american psycho!Sukuna by @getopied
bound starring incubus!Sukuna by @yenayaps
gentleman g and the sick lady starring ghost!Geto by @tonycries
s(cream) starring ghostface!Toji + ghostface!Sukuna by @madamechrissy
knew you'd come back starring leatherface!Sukuna by @heaveninruins
28 days later starring Sukuna by @sukunahs
scare actor frat!Sukuna by @spideyyeet
vampire!Gojo by @myselkie
no, i'm not a human starring neighbor!Toji + visitor!Choso by @besidesjustmyamour
stalked starring stalker!Geto + stalker!Gojo by @kamitv
run, rabbit, run starring serial killer!Sukuna by @motel6killer
curse!Gojo by @all-with-angel
give me everything starring Toji by @rainynightwrites
caught on camera starring Toji by @whimsic
no one as nasty as me starring Sukuna by @sytorusdoll
milking starring cow hybrid!Sukuna by @reignpage
roommate!Geto + roommate!Gojo by @satorusprincess
highway hypnosis starring stranger!Sukuna by @interlude-enternude
never turn your back on an enemy starring Geto by @swearimnevergivingup
spit roast starring Gojo + Geto starring by @satoruined
mirror games starring clown!Gojo by @gojodickbig
caution: please read all tags and content warnings before reading fics! also a ton of these incredibly talented authors have multiple kinktober fics or series that i couldn't fully include so i HIGHLY recommend checking them out more! my own kinktober mastlist can be found here :3
what could go wrong when you try to cure a disease by changing your colleague's DNA? more than you might think. now it's up to you to deal with the, ah, side effects.
synopsis: so you spliced your former friend-with-benefits DNA with a few different dinosaurs, all samples courtesy of your high-paying job at the world's most innovative research lab. the good news? he's not sick anymore. the bad? there's more to worry about than just scales and teeth and a tail when a certain white-haired investor catches on to your after-hour activities with the new specimen you created - and wants a bite of you for himself
pairing: dino!Sukuna x scientist!Reader x investor!Gojo
content: mdni, SMUT, angst, occasional fluff, jurassic park au, reader is a scientist but there's not even a drop of scientific accuracy here ok, sukuna gets his DNA spliced with a dinosaur (let's not ask questions), aphrodisiac venom, accidental body modification, pretty much true-form sukuna just tweaked a lil, monster fucking, hybrid stuff, heats, knotting, unprotected piv sex, gojo is also UNHINGED, emotional hurt/comfort, slight horror elements, I would be here all day if I tagged everything so more tags to be found in each individual chapter
summary: Chainsaw man universe where humans can form contracts with devils in exchange of sacrificing something valuable.
cw: fem! reader, masturbation, oral (fem. receiving), degradation, biting, mentions of blood, one thigh slap, degradation (whore, slut are used), sukuna makes reader call him master, usage of sukuna’s hand mouth except its reader’s hand? unrequited love (reader -> aki).
wc: 1.8k
note: you don't need to know the chainsaw man universe to read this, I tried to give a little context :) I do recommend it tho
next chapter: Consequences
In this doomed world you had to form a contract with a devil if you wanted to be strong enough to hunt other devils and protect your partners. So when you were presented with the opportunity to bind a contract with a powerful devil and not having to sacrifice your sight, or a limb, or even your own life you took it.
You forgot about what exactly you were sacrificing when you yelled Enchain for the first time during a fight where your partner Aki was about to be killed by a nasty devil.
In a second it was like you fell asleep, no longer in control of your own body, but you could watch your new black claws and tattooed arms rip the devils head, burning the remains of his body with black flames, saving Aki from a horrible death.
Aki was about to thank you when he met with your face adorned with black marks and a red eyes looking down at him.
“You are her devil” Aki murmured to himself “Sukuna”.
“More like she is my human, you pathetic excuse of a man” you felt the words coming out of your mouth in a tone that wasn’t yours.
“Sukuna enough, change back” you said from the void you were in, where Aki couldn’t hear you.
“What is she sacrificing for saving my life?” Aki asked the devil, ignoring the insult. His concern was you losing something important because he was too careless.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Sukuna spitted the words with amusement and soon the black marks on your face vanished, your consciousness returned to your body as you flexed your hands.
“I’ll take what’s mine tonight” Sukuna's voice echoed from the void.
“Are you okay? What will Sukuna take from you?” Aki held your shoulders as you stared into his eyes.
“Tell him, pet” Sukuna’s voice echoed inside your head again “Tell him how his slut of a partner agreed to pay me back by letting me take all her holes as I please”.
“Mind your business, Hayakawa” you replied your partner dryly, shaking his hands off your shoulders “You can write the report this time.”
As soon as you got to your small apartment you took a shower to get rid of the remains of the devil Sukuna ripped. Aki’s face came to your mind, this was the second time he asked about the terms of your contract with Sukuna.
The first time was when you had just left Sukuna’s cell after verbally accepting his demands.
“So, care to tell me what’s so different about you for Sukuna to offer a contract?” Aki asked, taking a drag of his cigarette outside the building.
“It’s been centuries since I last smelled a virgin” you remembered Sukuna’s words, surprising you with his bluntness “Let’s do this, you will give me all your first experiences, all of your little holes, then whenever you use our keyword I’ll take over and finish” you were about to argue against his perverted demands “I don’t ever lose, little hunter. You can try to offer me something else, just be aware that my last vessel paid with his life just to use one of my arms, I’m offering you a chance you will never find again.”
“Not telling” you answered Aki taking his cigarette before leaving.
You could never tell Aki you would have Sukuna ripping your insides every time you called for him.
Not Aki.
Sukuna was clear when he said he should be the only one touching you.
If you gave your body to another man or woman, the contract was over, and you couldn’t afford losing that much power.
But that meant the man you were in love with couldn’t ever take you like you wanted him to.
Aki Hayakawa was your partner for the last two years, and even with the two of you bumping heads from time to time you quickly fell for him, and fuck— all the times you wanted to have him kissing you when you two went for a night out, getting drunk with other hunters… you got so close once just to have Himeno causing a scene and making everyone go home.
Now, laying on your bed in nothing but a towel you wished you could call him and make him pay you back for saving his life by nailing you.
“Did you forget about me, little hunter? Don’t you know I can listen these filthy thoughts of yours like a fucking news cast?” you quickly sat up your bed at the sound of Sukuna’s voice inside your head.
“Fucking pervert” you murmured.
“Lay down, I’m taking what’s mine now” you obeyed still annoyed with the lack of privacy, “Have you ever touched that whore hole of yours?”
You shouldn’t get aroused by his filthy words, but somehow they made your insides tingle.
“N-Not exactly” you responded and pressed your naked thighs together
“Show me what you do when that pathetic boy comes to your mind” the voice demanded. You thought it was better to get through it the quickest way possible, so you opened your towel exposing your body to the dim lights of your bedroom. You raised your knees and placed your foot at the mattress, your fingers found the little bud and you started to draw circles over it like you always did.
“Really? Just that? Oh little one, I have so much to show you it makes my dicks throb with the expectation” your hand came to a sudden stop upon the plural he used to refer his member, “Don’t stop” your hand was forcibly back to your cunt, now it was cupping it while your palm pressed your clit.
You gasped out loud at the foreign feeling of a wet thing dragging along your folds. Looking down you saw a mouth right on the middle of your palm, a long sharp tongue licking your bottom lips taking and giving even more moisture.
“Surprised?” this time Sukuna’s voice came from the little mouth “Insert a finger” the voice demanded, you were too shocked by it to argue and ended up obeying it, your middle finger found your entrance and slowly sunk in. The mouth was directly on your clit, but instead of licking it, Sukuna's tongue was circling around the little nub, never actually touching it.
“S-Sukuna…” you murmured and tried to rearrange it into touching where you wanted.
The stinging feeling of a slap burned your thigh making you scream. Your left hand now had a little mouth on top too and you took a while to realize Sukuna slapped your thigh with your own hand, the one that wasn't in between your legs. And when the burning slap hit you, it didn’t feel like your own hand did it, more like Sukuna took control of that one limb for the sake of punishing you.
“It’s master to you, slut, now open these legs again and you better start moving your fingers because if I take control of that I won’t take them out until there’s blood, you heard me?” the mouth at the top of your left hand said, tears began to pool in your eyes because of the hard slap.
“Master” you murmured and did as you were told, your finger moved inside of you slowly, exploring the new discovered cave. The mouth disappeared only to reappear at your left palm, now smoothly licking the place at your thigh that received the slap seconds ago.
Now both your palms had mouths on them, the mouth at your right hand began to lick everywhere but your clit.
“Add another” he demanded and you pulled your middle finger out just to join it with your ring finger bringing both back in, a pleasing burning sensation of being stretched made you arch your back mewling. “That’s it, little hunter, now curve your fingers”.
You moaned like you have never before when you found a spongy spot inside you, you kept hitting there and flexing your fingers inside you when the little mouth finally met your aching bud.
“You don’t get to cum before I say so, got it? Add another” you were already shaking when you brought your index finger inside your cunt.
Your left hand not only had a little mouth, but was also a lot bigger, moving on it’s own, black sharp nails were digging into the soft skin of your thigh making you hiss and attempt to shut your legs, Sukuna’s hand grabbed holding it open, “Stay still” he demanded. The mouth in between your legs started to lightly suck your clit as you moved your fingers. You involuntarily tried to close your legs again only to receive another hard slap at the side of your thigh.
“I’m sorry, master, p-please let me—” you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your fingers moved faster now making a sloppy sound each time they moved in and out of you.
“How ridiculous… You needed a thousand year old devil telling you how to touch yourself? Pathetic, just like that little boyfriend of yours” the left hand crawled up your chest grabbing and folding your breast, “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name.”
Sukuna’s mouth bit down your nipple with no mercy, and you couldn’t even move your own hand away since now it was under his control, the only thing you did was cry and beg for him to allow you to climax.
“Fine, cum on my mouth like the desperate slut you are” the mouth at your clit sucked harder and, along with the fast movements of your fingers, you felt your whole body flutter with a mind-blowing orgasm.
Sukuna’s mouth kept licking your juices and overstimulating your hole with his tongue until you couldn’t feel anything else anymore. You looked down at your hand only to find that his mouth was no longer there.
“Master?” you asked weakly at the void. Your left palm appeared in front of your face, the mouth smiling at you.
“What? You didn’t think I would have all this fun at once right? I hope you enjoyed this, next time I won’t be so good” and just like that the hand vanished leaving you dumbly staring at your own palm.
‣‣ Synopsis: A tale of how the Shogun's daughter ends up in the maw of one of the most fierce curse users to ever exist.
‣‣ Cross-posted on AO3
‣‣ Final Word Count: 217,624
‣‣ Status: Completed
‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader
‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Cannibalism, set in Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, mentions of Buddhism/religion in general, sexism, eventual smut, slowburn, dead bodies, descriptions of wounds, era-specific violence & views, dismemberment, female reader, reader is not a pushover, reader is the Shogun's daughter, reader knows how to use a sword, Sukuna is at the start of his reign as King of Curses, cursed spirits, body horror, each chapter will have its own warnings, warnings to be updated/added, not beta-read, no happy ending.
‣‣ Part ONE — Tsukuyomi 月読
‣‣ Part TWO — Susanoo スサノオ
‣‣ Part THREE — Izanami イザナミ
‣‣ Part FOUR — Izanagi 伊邪那岐命
‣‣ Part FIVE — Kuraokami 闇龗
‣‣ Part SIX — Kuebiko 久延毘古
‣‣ Part SEVEN — Hachiman 八幡神
‣‣ Part EIGHT — Kagutsuchi カグツチ
‣‣ Part NINE — Kangiten 歓喜天
‣‣ Part TEN — Shinigami 死神
‣‣ Part ELEVEN — Tamonten 毘沙門天
‣‣ Part TWELVE — Daikokuten 大黒天
‣‣ Part THIRTEEN — Inari Ōkami 稲荷大神
‣‣ Part FOURTEEN — Yuki Onna 雪女
‣‣ Part FIFTEEN — Sugawara no Michizane 菅原道真
‣‣ Part SIXTEEN — Suijin 水神
‣‣ Part SEVENTEEN — Yomi 黄泉
‣‣ Part EIGHTEEN — Kōjin 三宝荒神
‣‣ Part NINETEEN — Toyouke 豊岡姫
‣‣ Part TWENTY — Amanozako 天逆毎
‣‣ Part TWENTY-ONE — Sarutahiko Ōkami 猿田彦大神
‣‣ Part TWENTY-TWO — Homusubi 火産霊
‣‣ Part TWENTY-THREE — Hanami 花見
‣‣ Part TWENTY-FOUR — Bishamonten 毘沙門
‣‣ Part TWENTY-FIVE — The Final Chapter
‣‣ Part TWENTY-SIX — The Epilogue
⊹ tags: ryomen sukuna x female reader; childhood friends; character mentions: uraume - satoru gojo; unresolved tension; sukuna is oh so in love; fluffy but a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; p in v sex; unprotected sex; dry humping; making out; oral sex;
:about: you've known sukuna before he was a world boxing champion, when he was just a scrawny kid who used to hide behind your legs when you were both in kindergarten. sukuna is growing tired of the fame and fortune, and all he really wants is to fall into the arms of the one person who he's always considered his home.
this fic is one shot. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding boxer!sukuna x reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.
wc: 19K+
Sukuna steps out of the shower, his body wound up in a tight coil after the night's fight. He presses the bridge of his nose together to relieve his throbbing head, but his brow is searing with pain. When he opens his eyes he catches a reflection of his self in the bathroom mirror- a split on his bottom lip, a cut on the arch of his right eyebrow and a slight bruise on his left cheek.
It's rare for him to look this battered after a match.
He's been untouchable for years, he's almost forgotten what it's like to take a few good hits in the ring.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?"
His eyes flicker up toward Uraume, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere.
He shakes his head at his manager. "Nothing happened, I won. Isn't that a good thing?"
Uraume narrows their gaze, sharp like a sly little fox. They can read Sukuna like a book, but Sukuna chooses to play ignorant and brushes off their knowing stare.
He knows that the inquisition isn't about the sponsors, the money, or the win.
He also knows that Uraume never asks questions that they don’t know the possible answer to.
Thankfully, his manager just sighs.
"The limo is outside waiting to take you to the party," they state, their heavy exhale indicating that they know Sukuna won't own up to what they are trying to prod out of him.
"Fuck," Sukuna grumbles. The towel hangs low on his hips, and he throws the one that is around his neck onto the ground. He steps outside to the locker room and proceeds to change. He dries off, puts on his boxers and picks up his black t-shirt before pulling it over his bare chest marked with ink. He then tugs on his jeans, and secures his belt around the waist. "Do I have to go to that?"
Uraume shrugs, "Don't you want to parade your big victory over Satoru Gojo to the rest of the world?" his manager adds, slipping both hands into their pocket as they stride casually toward Sukuna who is merely trying to gather the rest of his things.
The last touch is his signature silver chain necklace. He hooks the accessory around his neck, while mentally preparing himself for the crowd waiting for him outside. For the voices that would be screaming out his name, and the obnoxious paparazzi who can't seem to grasp the concept of personal space.
They all gawk at him like he's a endangered animal at the zoo.
His chest seizes at the thought.
He used to gloat over being in the spotlight. He took to stardom with an extreme sense of pride, but the thought of it right now just makes his skin crawl uncomfortably.
The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna wanted at this very moment, is to go home in fucking peace.
He’s given the fans and the world what they wanted.
"Little shit got what was coming to him," he blurts out in response to Uraume. "It'll take him a while to lick his wounds and get over his broken pride..."
Uraume chuckles, "and I was worried that he might have actually had an advantage over you..."
Sukuna swallows the sudden lump in his throat.
God he was fucking tired. His whole body is aching, begging him to get some much needed rest. He hadn’t trained this hard in a long time. The strict diet, the isolation, the strenuous days in the gym and in the training ring slowly started filtering into him in doses.
"Almost," he admits quietly, a little bitter over the reality of the situation that he was close to losing. "He's good for his age. Really good actually."
Uraume's face falls at that. "You don't sound like yourself, my king," they tease half-heartedly, addressing Sukuna by yet another title which he earned in the ring.
"The King", "The Beast", “The Champ”, “Monster of The Ring”…
There was a time when he was younger, when the fire for the fight burned inside him with such intense conviction, that he found dignity in the titles that he's earned from every match. The thrilling sensation of him standing in the middle of the ring, his hands raised with victorious joy as he looked down at his opponent while the crowd would cheer for him like he was a figure of the divine, used to mean a great deal to him.
But those titles feel…hollow. An old skin which Sukuna unknowingly shrugged off without even realizing it.
"I'm just exhausted," he breathes with a hint of frustration, giving Uraume a reply after allowing his mind to drift for a few seconds. "I've got a raging headache and my shoulder is killing me."
He slings his bag over his good arm, before turning to face his manager.
The pair walk down towards the end of the hallway, and Sukuna can already hear the muffled voices from the press that have slowly gathered inside. He elongates his spine naturally as he holds a domineering pose. He quietly huffs out a breath and tries to steady the uneasiness coursing through his veins. The second the press lay their eyes on him, they stampede towards Sukuna like dogs off their leash. A flash of white and blue flickers around him, disorienting him for a single moment.
"Hey, champ! How does it feel to knock out Satoru Gojo after everything he said this season?"
"Way to prove that you're still The Beast of the Ring! What's next for our King?"
"You've held your championship title for ten consecutive years! How do you go up from here?"
"Sukuna! Sukuna! Is it true that you've just locked in a multi-million dollar deal with Nike?"
Uraume steadies the crowd, protectively standing in front of Sukuna as they gesture everyone to calm down.
Despite the sheer difference in their size, Uraume has a natural way of commanding a room.
That's one thing Sukuna has always been grateful for regarding his manager; Uraume always looked out for his best interest first.
"Hello, everyone," they politely speak, their voice calm and pleasant. "While we appreciate the enthusiasm; our champion, Ryomen Sukuna, will only be making a single statement. He's had a long night and needs his rest," they announce, before looking over their shoulder and giving Sukuna a nod of approval to say what he needs to say.
The man is thankful for Uraume every single day. He already informed them earlier that he wasn't interested in any post-match interview or conversations with the press, and Uraume happily obliged by accepting the privacy that he desperately needed.
Sukuna tightens his grip around the gym bag over his shoulder. He stares at the small audience before him before clearing his throat to speak. "Young fighters like to run their mouth. I know because I used to be one of them. It's easy to be all bark and no bite. But in my case, I came out teeth first-" he states with a patronizing tone, noticing the press eagerly hang onto his every word and even laughing at his snide remark.
They are waiting for a brutal comment from the badass himself, for him to add the cherry on top of all the shit-talk he’s already dished out.
But Sukuna acknowledges that there is no place for it now.
He doesn't need to add more to the hurt he's already caused to Satoru Gojo.
Everything was settled in the ring, and now it was over.
"However, I have to admit that this was one of the best fights of my career. I had fun. He's been a thorn by my side but I respect Satoru, and I know he has a brilliant career on the horizon. That's all I have to say about that for now. Have a good night."
He steps away from the press, who trail at his feet like a pack of rats rattling off question after question as Uraume tries to console their demands. His manager delays their footing, all the while Sukuna finds the rest of his entourage at the arena exit.
A string of bodyguards help him get through the second crowd of loyal fans who have gathered. They are waving phones in the air, begging for photos and videos. Sukuna obliges with a few, trying his best to fight off the shakes that's starting to make his hand tremble slightly. People lift up their shirts, flash their cleavage and pull out posters, bras and clothes for him to sign. He does so, his signature faltering from a clean string of letters to a fast doodle of his name. His fans offer him flowers, art, and mementos which he takes, and whatever extra he can't carry he hands off to one of his guards. When he's finally had enough of giving himself to the fans, he bids everyone a wave as his bodyguards escort him to the private parking lot in the back of the arena.
Sukuna doesn't even realize how hard his heart had started hammering until he's embraced back into the quiet again. He feels incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and he isn't sure if it's the apprehension or the adrenaline wearing off from the fight. The phone in his pocket buzzes, probably Uraume wanting to make sure he's made it safely to his vehicle, but he can’t bring himself to answer the call.
"Sir," one of his bodyguards states, "There's a VIP who is expecting to see you..."
"So?" Sukuna scoffs, the black Mercedes in the distance a sanctuary. "I don't want to fucking see them."
"Well, you see, they insisted. They weren't taking no for an answer."
"And you would be shit at your job if you just let them roll over you like that," Sukuna begrudgingly replies.
Sukuna wasn't particularly fond of the VIP guest lists. A majority of them were people who wanted to fawn over him, or simply weasel their way into his pants. The other half were people with deeper pockets trying trying to bargain him into fixing fights so that they can win big bucks on their bets.
Sukuna did not have the time or patience for the latter, and even the former as well.
Especially tonight.
"Actually, Sir, she's waiting for you as we speak-" the bodyguard stammers, having to look up when he addresses Sukuna.
The champion stops abruptly to give him a puzzled stare and a piece of his mind over his bodyguard’s stupidity, but his attention is sharply drawn back to the car when he notices a figure step out of the Mercedes.
You're wearing a denim skirt, a fitted white top and a pair of black boots. Sukuna’s heart skips a beat, noticing that your hair looks a little different from when he last saw you. A sparkle of silver glitters on your neck that matches his own chain, and you beam at him with a bright smile that steadies his soul.
The click of your heels echo a little louder from the distance as you approach him, waving your fingers delicately in his direction to say your first hello. Sukuna's feet moves faster than the rest of him. He drops his bag off his shoulder, the gifts in his hands splay across the concrete ground and he scoops you up in his arms before spinning you in the air the second he wraps his arms around you.
You giggle at his greeting, your body trapped in a blanket of muscle and cologne. Your fingers thread between the strands of his red hair, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of your best and oldest friend.
Sukuna squeezes you tightly, "they should have just told me it was you by name," he exhales with a hint of annoyance, then carefully places you back down to rest your feet on the ground.
You laugh under your breath, "Don't worry, I gave them hell for it. I told them that I'm the only VIP who mattered considering I have been on that list the longest...."
You try to loosen your grip but Sukuna tenses up, so you ease back into his hug.
He didn’t want to let go just yet.
And truthfully, neither do you.
"Hi, princess," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with fatigue.
"Hey, 'kuna" you reply softly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as your heart beats heavily against his now relaxed chest.
₊ ⊹ .
The light from the car's backseat illuminates Sukuna's ruggedly handsome face. You cup his jaw between your fingers, and lightly trace your thumb over the cut on his swollen lip. Your eyes track upward and you wince at the gash across his brow.
"He got a few good hits on you didn't he?" you point out, not as a question necessarily but more as a statement of the obvious.
"A few good hits doesn't mean shit..."
"When was the last time you got hit this bad in the ring?" you press.
"I fight for a living, someone was bound to land a punch someday. Besides, it's not a concern. I had my good luck charm tonight without even knowing it..." he responds with a wolfish grin.
You jab him playfully in the chest. "You're not made of steel you know? You had me concerned for a second..."
"I roughed him up too," Sukuna states with a pout, "you're all acting like he walked away completely unscathed..."
He slings an arm over your shoulder, his strength pushing your body weight to lean closer against his side. You shake your head with disapproval as you press the button to switch off the light above you both.
The city moves past you in a haze, but you can't stop taking in the man before you.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The first time you met him was on the playground of your old kindergarten. You were all outdoors, and you noticed that these two bigger kids were knocking him around. The kindergarten teachers weren't anywhere to be seen. At the clear imbalance of power and with your sheer sense of goodwill, you decided to go over there and help.
Sukuna had just joined your class only three weeks before that. He was the smallest kid, and had a hard time keeping up with everyone else. Everyone made fun of him and called him "chili crisp" because of his hair. They teased him constantly for how he looked, how he dressed, and how he spoke and simply refused to play with him.
Being young and impressionable, you never engaged. But you didn't do anything to help Sukuna either. It made you ache seeing him treated this way, and this time you weren't just going to let it slide anymore.
Sukuna did nothing to deserve this treatment in the first place.
However, despite his small stature, Sukuna was a fighter even then.
He kept getting up even if it meant that he would just be shoved down once again.
You remember walking up to both those kids and grabbing them by the collar. You yanked them off, placing yourself in between them and Sukuna before scolding them both for their terrible behavior.
"I'm gonna tell!" you squealed with a furious point of your finger, threatening them with snitching words. "And if I ever see you hurt him, I'm going to make sure everyone knows how bad you are! And you’ll get into so much trouble with the teachers!”
You sharply kicked them both in their heels, and watched the kids scamper off, a little more intimidated now that someone they deemed as an equal threat entered the playing filed. Once they were gone, you turned toward Sukuna who was planted on the concrete ground. He was wiping away his snotty nose and trying to hide his tears.
You scratched the back of your head nervously, your throat all itchy and tight from the sight of him.
"You're-you're not a chili crisp," was all you could think of telling him in that moment. You gave him a small but kind smile, before offering him both your hands and helping him on his feet.
He was a whole head and shoulder shorter than you were back then. His clothes barely hung onto his body. He had to fix up his t-shirt and readjust his shorts.
"I know that," he answered with irritation, and a scowl that never seemed to have left him.
You assisted in brushing the dust off him.
"Your name is Ryo-men Su-ku-na?" you asked, breaking down the pronunciation of his name to make sure you said it correctly.
He nodded his head quietly.
You gave him another tender grin, and reached out for his hand before introducing yourself.
"I know who you are, I'm not stupid."
You frowned at his sharp response. "I never said you were."
The two of you stood there facing one another in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed from the moment.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, kicking a random little rock on the ground. "Those kids are stupid."
"Yeah, they are." He grumbled through gritted teeth.
"So, if I'm not stupid and you're not stupid, why don't we be friends?"
Sukuna's eyes widened slightly at your words, like he couldn't believe what you said.
"Friends?"
"Yeah!" you squeaked with a little more excitement. "You'll have someone to sit next to and play with every day!"
He nervously gripped the hem of his tee.
He never gave you a real response, but the next day he showed up and took a seat right next to you in class.
You were both six years old, and have been insuperable ever since.
₊ ⊹ .
You press your cheek against his broad shoulder, and Sukuna sighs as his body melts into the leather seat underneath him. His hand gently rubs your own shoulder, with the two of you sitting in silence together as you have done many times before. He instructs the driver to take you both back to his penthouse, disregarding some after party that he's expected to attend.
At the call, your heart flutters with anticipation because it was a clear sign indicating that he wanted to be alone with you.
You shivered thinking of the last time that happened.
It's hard to believe that this version of Sukuna co-exists with the person you've known for a majority of your life.
The day after he sat next to you in kindergarten, everything changed for the better.
Sukuna still grimaced at everyone else, but kids no longer picked fights with him and he had a warming smile that was reserved for you alone.
Whether in class or outside of school, you both spent every spare moment that you could together. You were glued to the hip like two peas in a pod. Your parents adored him, doted on Sukuna despite him resisting their affection. It was only one night, when he was having yet another sleepover at your place, where you finally asked him how is he able to hang out with you all the time.
Sukuna revealed a truth that broke your heart entirely.
“Here is better than being home. Usually it's just me..."
"Just you?" you whispered innocently, "but your mom and dad?"
You watched him shrink into his blanket with uncertainty. "Don't know. I live with my Grandpa. He works a lot..."
It's only later in your life where you learnt the full story.
Sukuna’s parents abandoned him, leaving him with his grandfather to pursue reckless adventures together. At the time Sukuna was only three years old. His grandfather worked hard to provide for the boy, but he was an aging old man and didn’t expect to be responsible for such a young child. Sukuna's grandfather always showed deep gratitude to your parents for helping out and providing Sukuna with another safe space that gave him some much needed stress relief on his end.
His daughter eventually returned, in tow this time with Sukuna’s half brother Yuji. His dead beat dad was gone for good. But by then Sukuna was already fourteen.
He’s always had a complex relationship with his family, but things seem to be better with his brother. The two of them could pass off as identical twins, it was almost scary how alike they looked.
You loved Yuji; he was a living antithesis of his older brother. Always perky, smiling so bright it’s like the sun follows his footsteps.
Sukuna, on the other hand, carried the shadow and gloom of a waning moon.
Your childhood and early adolescent years were precious, cherished moments and memories that solidified the strength of your relationship. But despite everything, you were the only person who saw how bright Sukuna's own light could shine.
The driver finally parks the car in front of one of the most expensive buildings in Tokyo. Sukuna gets out first, and extends a hand into the vehicle to help grab yours. The touch sends tingles up your arm, but you do your best not to read into the reaction just yet.
The two of you enter the building, passing the security who simply tilts their head in acknowledgment, but from your peripheral vision you notice Sukuna’s eyes shifting around his environment.
“No cameras,” you reassure him with a squeeze to his bicep. “No paparazzi…”
Sukuna was aware of what he signed up for with fame, but that did not mean that you had to be subjected to the aggressive violation of privacy.
And after everything that happened, after the horrific clashing of both your worlds, he felt himself breathe a huge sigh of relief.
“They probably think I am showing up to the victory party,” he answered with gratitude.
The elevator rings, the doors opening as you both step inside.
Sukuna hits the button to the penthouse suite, and from the way his shoulders slump you can tell there is something off about his demeanor.
This isn’t the Ryomen you knew who walked away from a fight with the buzz of the winner.
He’s dimmed.
A bulb that’s flickering.
Something’s wrong, you thought, looping your arm around his and keeping your eyes on the numbers increasing as you swallow your concern.
₊ ⊹ .
Puberty didn’t hit Sukuna; it struck him like a brick over his head.
At sixteen years old, Sukuna was no longer the loser kid that everyone picked on. He was a tower, a watchful pillar that looked down on those around him with an intimidating stare. All of a sudden this scrawny boy shot up like a tree, his body springing into a new version of himself. His voice broke, dropping octaves lower than the soft tone of what it used to be. His shoulders broadened, lean muscle forming since he spent most of his time wrestling and boxing.
He became the bad boy that everyone blushed and fawned over.
The athlete that people admired.
His coaches loved him - called him a prodigy, and a star of the future.
Sukuna carried himself with plenty of self respect, and was extremely well spoken. Outside of his athletics he enjoyed reading and learning history, and his venture into sports only happened because it kept him busy and gave him some much needed space away from his home. He was readjust to a new life with his mom back in the picture, and a brother who was five years younger than him. At first it was simply an escape, but once he settled into the atmosphere of it all, it gave him a sense of structure. Sukuna was diligent about his training and academics, outsmarting and outplaying almost everyone around him. His motivation was fueled with every game and competition, and you quickly saw that Sukuna only had the expectation of being a winner and nothing else.
Navigating your teenage years was a bit tough for both of you.
It began with one sleep over just a year prior, the moment where you both recognized that things couldn’t progress as casually as they used to. You woke up tangled in each other’s arms, hyper aware of your bodies and the parts that were blooming.
Sukuna slept on the sofa every sleep over after that.
Thanks to your eruptive hormones, the both you bickered often and frequently. As you and Sukuna started understanding your own senses of selves, a hint of distance started to grow. For a long time the two of you only ever had each other, but with Sukuna now a part of the athletic group and you falling in line with your own little clique, the both of you were finding some time away from each other and identifying who you were without the other person around.
However, you always came back to one another, like two little magnets seeking each other out.
It’s all you’ve ever known since you were six.
One afternoon, while hanging out in the school’s basketball court, Sukuna turned to face you as you paced behind him while he was throwing some shots for fun.
“They think you’re my girlfriend,” he casually stated, referencing his new set of friends who always studied you with intense curiosity.
Your face burned multiple degrees hotter than it should.
“W-what?” You stammered.
“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, and you watched him dribble the basketball as the awkwardness settled.
“That’s…that’s weird…” was all you could think of adding on. “You told them I am not, right?”
Sukuna furrowed his brows and hummed. But he nodded his head.
“Just because we are friends that doesn’t automatically mean that we are “boyfriend and girlfriend”,” you insisted, using air quotes to emphasize your statement.
Sukuna turned so his back was to you, and tossed the ball directly into the ring.
“That’s what I told them…” he reassured, but something about his tone didn’t sit right with you.
The summer that followed - Sukuna’s grandfather, mom and brother took a trip away. Sukuna declined to join since he was participating in a tournament. After his wrestling team came out victorious, he decided to throw a secret bash at his place to celebrate.
You were there helping him hide away all the fragile items, before staring at him in shock when he placed a few beer cans on his kitchen counter.
“How did you get that?” You asked in a low whisper, afraid that you both might somehow get caught for doing something that you aren’t supposed to.
He just gave you a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, Princess…”
That nickname stuck on you like glue. It’s something Sukuna called you with annoyance when you were both kids, and you used to call him an angry dragon in return. Even though you stopped using that silly term, for some reason Sukuna’s pet name morphed into one of endearment and affection which he kept using.
“It’s just the team and a couple of girls that the guys have been trying to get with…” he ensured, “The guys wanted the beers, so I managed to sneak some from my grandfather’s stash…”
“And what if he finds out?”
Sukuna laughs, “that old man can’t even remember what day it is. I’m sure he won’t notice a few beer cans missing…”
That night you had your first secret party, your first sip of beer and your first kiss; it was one of those core memories that lingered that was reminiscent of the adrenaline rush from living out the freedom of being young with no responsibilities. You don’t remember who it was who called out the idea of playing seven minutes in heaven, but suddenly all of you were sitting in a circle spinning an empty bottle on Sukuna’s grandfather’s worn rug. Your heart sat at your throat, your eyes fixated on the piece of twirling glass, half wondering who it would land on. You watched as couples disappeared into Sukuna’s room, everyone snickering in a circle thinking about what the potential couples could possibly be doing.
The boys were crude with their commentary, and the girls giggled with feign disgust.
Some people came out looking displeased, clearly unamused by what they experienced, while others had a look of euphoria on their faces.
When the bottle landed on you, the first person you found yourself seeking out was Sukuna.
However, the other end of the bottle wasn’t pointing to him, but to one of his teammates.
His friend’s eyes widen with intrigue, a cute smile forming on his pouty lips.
Your own cheeks warmed with curiosity.
He helped you onto your feet, but the two of you were struck with an abrupt question that had you pausing your movements.
“Do you want to do this?” Sukuna pointedly asked, his focus on you alone and no one else.
There was a grave but serious look resting firmly on his face.
Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t place why. With the eyes of everyone else on you and his teammate, you instantly wanted to divert the intense attention elsewhere.
“Of course!” You said with a casual shrug, then grabbed his teammate’s hand and led him into Sukuna’s bedroom.
You’ve been in here countless of times, never once feeling uncomfortable in this space. But this time, you were quite aware of the state of his bed, of the slightly rumpled sheets that were tugged from edge to edge. Your mouth went dry, your body suddenly trying to recollect every movie, book and comic that explained or depicted the intimacies between two people.
Two hands touched your waist, spinning you on your feet.
“Time’s ticking,” his friend said. “We shouldn’t waste it…”
“I’ve never done this before…” you blurted out.
“I haven’t either…” he answered kindly, and that made you feel better.
“Okay…” you said, before placing your hands awkwardly on his shoulder.
“Let’s just start with a kiss…” he suggested and then leaned forward.
You were frozen then, unsure of what to do. You stood there with wide eyes as you felt his lips on yours, the sensation making your belly tingle.
He pulled away.
“That wasn’t too bed…” you admitted and he laughed.
“Do you want to try?” He asked.
Your first initiated kiss wasn’t magical, nor was it horrendous as some of your other friends experienced. Even now when you think about it - the only memory that hits you is one of innocent exploration. It took a minute for you to get comfortable with his prodding tongue, to figure out the clash between lips and teeth, and to allow his wet muscle to access our mouth and glide over your own. The sensation reminded you of sticky, tacky popsicles that clung to your lips in summers past.
It was fun…until a loud bang startled you both, making you split from each other’s arms like opposing forces.
“Time’s up,” Sukuna growled, before barging in without even so much as asking if you were decent like he did with the other pairs.
The look he gave his teammate was terrifying, even you couldn’t help but gulp.
His friend let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of his head as he scurried his way out. “Damn, that was fast!” He tittered nervously, his voice cracking slightly towards the end.
Sukuna narrowed his gaze as he watched him leave the room. Meanwhile, you both stood there facing each other, noticing his nostrils flaring as your breath rose and fell.
“What?” You questioned, returning his hard stare with an even stronger glare.
He huffed out a breath through his nose, “are you okay?” he asked, in an attempt to compose his clearly frazzled state.
“Yes!” You blurted back, a little shaken. “Was that even seven minutes?”
Sukuna grimaced, holding onto your eyes before he stormed out of his room, scoffing with annoyance at your response.
Neither of you really spoke about the awkwardness of that moment, and instead carried into the heat of that summer like nothing even happened.
But, what did hurt you after that, was that Sukuna never invited you to any of his “parties” again.
He fibbed and said it was just “a team thing”, but you eventually heard about the other attendees at the party, and only through the grapevine found out about Sukuna’s first kiss.
It felt like a betrayal in its own way, this sudden shakiness in your friendship as uncertain as tectonic plates waiting to crash into a shattering earthquake.
You called him one night to confront him, asking him why he wouldn’t tell you about his first kiss when you both should be able to talk about everything. But that conversation just resulted in an argument, a blow out that felt like a collapse in your world.
You both didn’t speak to each other until the end of that summer, when Sukuna finally waved the white flag by crawling to your front door late one evening with some ice cream as a peace offering.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, while you both sat on the sidewalk, scooping wooden spoons into the tub of vanilla with chocolate chips.
It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you.
Even when you were kids, Sukuna refused to ever say he was sorry.
He would just pout angrily before over compensating with his sweetness to show you that he didn’t mean it.
But not this time.
You licked the vanilla off the spoon, biting down on the rich chocolate chunks, and hoping that the tears wouldn’t fall from your eyes from how your chest swelled at his remorse.
Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, “I hate that things have been weird between us.”
“You made them weird…” you mumbled and he just sighed.
“‘Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted, “yes, I did…”
You turned to look up at him, and he gave you a solemn smile.
“I’m a little possessive of you, I realize…” he explained, his lips forming into that small frown, mirroring his childlike expression.
“A little?” you answered back with a snarky tone.
“You’re my best friend,” he admitted, his eyes downcast with regret. “You have always been my person.”
“You’re my person too, ‘kuna…” you murmured, “but…but being best friends means that we have to trust each other. That we can’t just…hurt each other. That we should stop being honest or talking to one another when things get bad…that we can’t face things that make us…I don’t know, feel weird and stuff…”
He rested his chin on the top of your head, the two of you finally bridging the gap of what seemed to be the first real challenge of your friendship.
“It was a shit kiss…” he sighed, “I was just too fucking embarrassed to tell you.”
You gazed up at him from underneath your lashes.
“Why?” You said with a light laugh.
Sukuna’s attention dipped to your mouth for a split second and back to your eyes again. “I don’t know. You just seemed to have enjoyed yours in comparison. I felt like I lost a game or something. I didn’t want to admit that mine was awkward and wet and just…not fucking good…”
You laughed at that.
“Everything with you is a competition…”
“Not everything…”
You nudged his stomach playfully with your elbow. “Do you remember when we played Mario Kart for the first time? When you lost three rounds in a row and nearly ripped my head off?”
“How was I supposed to know you are freakishly good at that game?”
You laughed, “I stay the reigning champion of rainbow road!”
“You stay a pain in my ass…”
You rolled your eyes, “a pain in your ass that will never leave you, so stop complaining about it…”
Sukuna exhales, “It was…a bad kiss,” he admitted shyly, “She was so damn skittish, and I think I was too. I didn’t…I didn’t think it would be so…ugh. It was just not the right person…”
“Or maybe you were just nervous…” you answered honestly.
Sukuna shook his head.
“No, I know it wasn’t the right person…” he said with confidence.
You unraveled from his hold for a moment to look deep into those heated eyes.
“Can I say something?” he questioned, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, a blush you’ve seen before but never realized how adorable it actually looked on him until this moment.
“Anything”
“I don’t want you to think I am being weird or take this the wrong way…” Sukuna explained, pausing for a single breath before continuing. “I just thought the first person I would’ve kissed would have been…well, you…
The world went still in that moment. All you could hear was the soft rustle of the trees in the distance, and all you could see was the open vulnerability of Sukuna’s heart resting on his face.
It’s incredibly rare for him to even show it, your friend guarding that part of himself with such conviction.
“Oh…”
“But then I realized that you’re not supposed to be kissing your best friend,” he added on, stomping on the spark that flickered between you both before it even had a chance to even light.
“No,” you agreed quickly, your eyes darting to the tub of ice cream. You pressed the back of your spoon into the creamy texture, doing your best to ignore the sudden pulse in your chest.
“My second kiss was a lot better that’s for sure…” Sukuna rambled on, digging his spoon around yours as he scooped himself another serving of ice cream. “Way better actually…and on round three I think I got the hang of it…”
You swallowed the tiny lump in your throat. “I don’t need to know the gross details, please,” you implored, though your stomach rolled with a hint of nausea at the reality that he’s kissed more people than you expected.
You never admitted it out loud, but the confession made you a little jealous.
If you were an option in his head…why didn’t he just ask?
₊ ⊹ .
.
Sukuna lost his virginity to a freshman college student a year later when he snuck into a party with two of his former teammates. You lost yours on the night of your graduation party to the same boy you kissed for the first time. You and Sukuna were expected to attend the same university (with him obtaining a full scholarship for academic excellence), but your friend had deviated from the shared path after being scouted. The two of you commuted to see each other often, with you visiting him when he was training and him stopping by the campus whenever he had free time.
You and Sukuna knew about the other person’s intimate lives from the stories you shared, and despite continuously being plagued with constant accusations of being “more than friends”, you both agreed never to allow that discomforting prospect to intervene with your friendship again after that terribly awkward summer.
Rather than ignore the fact that you were growing to be even more beautiful by the day, Sukuna just became extremely blunt around you. He didn’t hide his eyes checking you out, noticing how your curves were starting to fill out and how you began to mature into your own features. He confidently spoke about how attractive you were, and often boosted your ego in ways that only enhanced your own confidence.
You enjoyed reminding him that once upon a time he thought “girls were disgusting” and “looked funny”.
“Let’s not forget I am the first guy to marry you,” he joked, recalling a game you both used to play where you pretended to be characters from a fantasy realm.
“Actually you were the first dragon to marry me,” you clarified, because Sukuna loathed the prospect of playing a prince. “I don’t really think it counts…”
“Maybe not - but all these guys fawning over you are going to find out you’re some kind of monster fucker and start running in the other direction…”
It was safe to say that the banter between you both never changed.
You on the other hand, were recognizing just how handsome Sukuna was becoming too. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times up until this point, but something about watching the definition of muscle build into his new physique, and noticing the way manhood slowly enveloped his body, began to hit you in different ways. This was especially noticeable when you would watch him train in the ring, paying attention to the fact that Sukuna wasn’t built just like any average person. It didn’t even occur to you how incredibly strong he had become until he would lift or move your body around like you were weightless and not a living, breathing human with physical mass.
One evening, while you both were walking back to your dorm from a dinner at a cheap ramen bar, Sukuna had the audacity to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder because “you couldn’t keep up with his pace”.
All of a sudden, you were acutely aware that the scrawny boy that you used to protect was now all grown up.
Sukuna morphed into brick and stone, while you were merely glass.
For some reason, it put a strain on your heart.
You guys really weren’t kids anymore.
This was only solidified a year and a half into his career when Sukuna fought in his first professional tournament at twenty years old. The man dominated the ring against his opponent. He broke the record of the most knock outs and became a household name almost overnight.
“The King”
Time moved at double speed after that.
Your fingers that were clinging to bits of nostalgia weren’t able to keep them from it slipping between your grasp. Things were happening in a blur, and the sudden shift in Sukuna’s world felt like a birthing black hole in your own.
The night before Sukuna was flying off on his first world tour, the two of you were cooped up in your dorm room, snuggled underneath the blanket like you used to be when you were both kids.
This time, it wasn’t awkward.
You had both experienced love and lust in different ways up until that point.
You knew that being this close didn’t have to mean anything risqué.
You were comfortable with yourselves far more than you were five years ago.
“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” you whispered with a sniffle, while Sukuna traced the shell of your ear.
Two silver chains mirrored one another, one on your neck and the other on his. It was your parting gift to him, a reminder to keep a piece of each other around when you couldn’t be together.
You assumed Sukuna would find it stupid, but instead he clasped the necklace around himself before doing the same for you in silent contemplation.
“I’ll keep in touch, brat” he soothed, but you could hear the ache in his voice too.
You circled your arms around his neck, eagerly clinging onto him as closely as you could for the little time you had.
“I am really proud of you though,” you spoke, your shaky breath against his collar bone, a tear rolling down your cheek as you inhaled the herby scent of his soap.
“I’m paying off your loans when the money really starts rolling in,” he chuckled against your temple.
You shook your head with disapproval. “Just buy your grandpa something nice,” you insisted. “And make sure to spoil Yuji…”
“That kid’s already spoiled…”
“But he’s a sweetheart,” you emphasized, “and I know he’s probably going to miss you more than me…”
Sukuna hummed. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”
You tilted your chin up as he dropped his head down, your noses merely inches apart. You relaxed the muscles on your face, your thumb reaching to smooth the crease from between his brows.
“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t save my sorry ass back when we were kids…” he said with an easy smile.
“You would have eventually fought back,” you giggled, “besides, you don’t need me protecting you anymore…” you pointed out, your voice a little breathless, and your anxious mind running on the concern of if you might even fit into Sukuna’s new life after this.
He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into the seam of his frame.
“I always need you,” he confessed, and those words were enough to make you break as the pain of his departure finally collided into you.
₊ ⊹ .
Sukuna went off to having an extremely successful boxing career.
At twenty-two, he had turned into one of the hottest sports stars the industry has ever seen.
He had win after his win under his belt, and the second he partnered with Uraume it was a match made in heaven.
He was insanely good, and with Uraume by his side, he was now unstoppable.
You were provided tickets to any of his fights, accompanied with private transportation and accommodation if necessary. Sukuna always made sure that you were well take care of, and you always accepted because it was the only time you were able to actually see him. Those few days were precious together, before you had to depart and return to the real world once again. Each of Sukuna’s fights was a mesmerizing experience. There was something about his flow in the ring that managed to make everything else around him blur.
He was strong, but agile.
Brutal but swift with his movements.
He moved with regal precision, a dancer that understood the rhythms of strength.
Everyone challenged him, but all of them failed.
Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with.
Despite the distance, you and Sukuna always made a conscious effort at keeping in touch with each other. You may not be physically there in each other’s presence, but not a day went by without a phone call or multiple texts.
At twenty-seven, Sukuna was at the peak of his stardom. Your best friend found himself tangled between the world of fame and fortune, alongside his old life of normalcy and humble peace. He made good on his promises; setting up a trust fund to ensure that Yuji was well taken care of in every capacity. He paid off all your loans in secret because he knew you would never accept it from him upfront. He bought his grandfather a home in Osaka for him to retire to. And his peace offering to his mom was renovating their old, broken home into something new and vibrant for her to live her life happily now that she seemed to have finally settled down in her third marriage. Sukuna even offered to take care of his step brother, Choso. They may not have been personally close, but he was grateful that Choso was keeping a watchful eye on Yuji.
Your own life was starting to unfurl as well - you had graduated university, were experiencing your first serious relationship, navigating various friendships and landing your first job. It all felt normal compared to Sukuna, but the man never minimized your experiences.
When you were together, it’s like nothing had even changed, but the moment your realities bled into each other, it was a constant reminder of how just how far apart your lives actually were.
You were harassed by the paparazzi who constantly overstepped.
Sukuna’s boundaries were crossed by the people you knew because everyone wanted a moment with the star.
You found yourself in environments with the rich whose beauty, wealth and status seemed far out of your reach.
Sukuna found himself being treated more like an object than a person.
And yet, you both seemed to be settling down into your own versions of the life you were creating - always weaving the other person in no matter the obstacle.
At twenty-eight, Sukuna had earned more money than he could even imagine, and was still somehow only moving onwards and up. He was plastered on every magazine cover, was the the center of attention on social media by his most dedicated and loyal fans. He was stalked and obsessed over, admired and feared. Networks wanted to feature him on shows, movies and every talk show. The man was a composition of everything that people were projecting onto him.
He had become an untouchable to the eyes of every living mortal.
But to you, and just you - he would always be the little boy who was far too small for this big world.
After years of flings with influencers, models, and high end socialites - it seemed that Sukuna was finally settling down with one of the top actresses in the industry. The moment the two of them were caught kissing at a party, their secret was revealed to the public.
You, however, knew all the details of the ways in which Sukuna was slowly wooing her.
At this point you’ve both grown tolerant of hearing about the other person’s love life. And at this time especially, you weren’t affected by Sukuna’s first serious relationship because you and your boyfriend were discussing the possibility of marriage which felt close on the horizon. You had just bought your first house, and was considering the big gesture of having him move in with you. You had gotten an incredible promotion at work, and for the first time you felt a sense of stability that you had never really experienced before.
“We should have dinner together!” You offered one night to Sukuna over the phone.
“The four of us?” He questioned.
“Yeah, I mean…you know Sousuke really well…”
“Yeah, and he hates me…”
“But I haven’t met Mei yet…and no, Sousuke doesn’t “hate you”…”
“I hate to break it to you, Princess. But the guy can’t stand me…”
You glanced towards your boyfriend who was sitting on the sofa, his attention on the television show he was watching. You stepped away from the living room, and quietly made your way to the bedroom.
“’kuna…” you spoke, your throat catching, “I think…I think he might propose…”
“What?!” He exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away.
“Jeez! Don’t shout! You’re going to make me pop an ear drum!”
He groaned.
You sighed, “we’ve been talking about it…and I just…I just really want you guys to get along is all. I just think you guys are just not seeing eye to eye…”
Sukuna remained oddly quiet on the phone.
“Can you say something?” You begged.
“Fine,” he grumbled, “we can do dinner at my place. The paparazzi have been hounding me trying to get any shot they can find of me and Mei. I would rather we don't go anywhere public...”
You smiled, “dinner is perfect!”
At first glance, the dinner seemed like a complete success.
The four of you chatted and enjoyed your night like you were all old friends, especially after Sousuke got over his starstruck moment when he met Mei. You and Sukuna told stories of your years together, inviting your partners to the pieces of your lives that you both shared. You could see that Sukuna was clearly attracted to Mei, and in turn he could see that you were happy with Sousuke. The night felt like a convergence without an implosion - an easy going settlement on the two roads that you and your friend had taken.
That’s why when your boyfriend called things off with you three months later, it took you completely by surprise.
Nothing in this world could have prepared you for that heartbreak.
It was a grieving period, a dark time of mourning that had you glued to your bed most days. This life that you had been carefully piecing together toppled like dominos. After breaking the news to Sukuna, you spent two weeks isolating yourself from anything and everything else.
Your best friend couldn’t stand seeing you in this state, and showed up at your door out of the blue one evening.
You burst into tears at the sight of him.
He was there to mend your broken heart, and he never left your side. He told his team that he was taking a much needed break, and during that time made sure that you were fed and comfortable. He handled any extra chores, slept on the floor in your bedroom every night so that you weren’t alone. He spent hours with you in silence while you wept, listened to you angrily vent your frustrations on how your ex could treat you this way.
One night, he woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed. He searched for you, finding you in the kitchen staring at a small pile of bridal magazines.
Your clothes were rumpled, you hadn’t changed or freshened up since that morning.
Sukuna didn’t say anything, just placed two hands on your shoulders and turn you away from the painful memories.
You gasped and hiccuped into his chest.
“I couldn’t sleep…” you explained, “I r-remembered that I still had these, and just…just wanted them gone…”
Sukuna tenderly stroked the back of your neck. “You know,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean itself, the tone the texture of velvet. “I can always break his fucking legs…”
The comment made you choke out a laugh.
“It’ll ruin your career,” you whimpered. “It’s not worth it…”
“For you,” he soothed, his thumb lightly tracing the space where the base of your neck and spine connected. “It’s always worth it”
₊ ⊹ .
The blunder in Sukuna’s career hit early last year, when his relationship with Mei fell apart and resulted in one of the worst break ups that people have ever seen. Mei released a public, viral video that had millions of views and thousands of shares. She accused Sukuna of cheating for the entirety of their two year relationship, crying crocodile tears on camera over how she was simply another trophy that he could successfully claim while his heart always belonged to someone else.
That video made your blood boil.
You knew Sukuna wasn’t perfect - but if there was one thing you would never doubt about that man it was his loyalty.
You saw it towards grandfather, to Yuji, to Uraume, and even yourself.
That man scoffed at the prospect of cheating, believing it to be a cowardice act.
And Sukuna was no coward.
Even in prior relationships, he was always clear about where he stood. If he couldn’t commit to something, he made it perfectly known. You still didn’t know what it was about Mei that had him finally let his walls down. But when they were together, he looked perfectly content. Every desire and every fantasy he dreamt up in his youth had finally been accomplished. But all you knew about their break up was that things weren’t working out, and Sukuna wasn’t willing to share more than that.
You were being respectful of his privacy, understanding firsthand how tough this kind of heartbreak can be.
He called you when the Mei's video first broke out, his voice strained.
“You know it’s not true, right?” He questioned before even saying hello.
“Ryo, of course I know that-”
“I’m not a little bitch who would cheat. I would never do that. Nor am I that fucking stupid thinking I would ever get away with it-”
“I know…” you reassured, hearing the apprehension laced through his words. “Ryomen, I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world.”
He breathed a long sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you might have been convinced otherwise”
Your stomach tightened.
“But if you believe me, then I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.”
Something about that conversation clung onto you, it sat like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t quite possibly shrug off. The tabloids, news outlets and social media accounts were throwing ingredients upon ingredients into the rumor pot that was bubbling and boiling over. On top of that, a new rising star had just entered the boxing world, and Sukuna was suddenly dealing with brutal comparisons to the younger, hotter talent that was Satoru Gojo.
You were the one who offered to take him out to dinner to get his mind off of things, not realizing just how bad it actually was for him.
When a gossip magazine posted the photos of you both huddled together (as you have done many times before) while having an ordinary dinner, it spun your world inside and out. Though the pictures were quite blurry, there were a few people who were able to recognize you. You were being harassed at your work, interrogated by your friends and were even being accused of being “the other woman”.
The worst part is was when Mei fed into the chaos, making a follow up post and stating that “a woman always knows, and is always right” in regards to her break up situation with Sukuna.
She may not have explicitly said it, but her fingers were pointing at you.
You don’t know how your address got leaked, but when you started finding paparazzi stalking you in your own home it became far too much for you to handle.
Sukuna, on the other hand, was infuriated.
This whole time he was disengaged by what was going on, but once you were caught in the mix of this mess, it seemed that he was suddenly ready to cause equal destruction.
He sued his ex for defamation, sued multiple media outlets for harassment. He had Higuruma Hiromi, one of the top lawyers in his field, at the helm of this take down, and the second he shot back, it had everyone scurrying in retreat.
The tabloids, blogs and magazines all redacted the photos of you, reducing your digital footprint.
His ex, under pressure of Sukuna’s threats, came out with a public apology so that he would drop the charges against her and help her avoid her own PR nightmare.
The rest of Sukuna’s anger was taken out on the ring, with people seeing another side of what The King could unleash.
His match against Hajime Kashimo was one of the bloodiest in boxing history, his opponent left crimson and defeated despite seemingly holding a strong front in the beginning.
They dubbed him: “The Monster of The Ring” after that.
The damage was already done, and the stress of it all was starting to hurt Sukuna’s focus. When he nearly got disqualified in a match, that is when Uraume intervened, and felt it was necessary to include you in the discussion.
You’ve always had a complicated relationship with Uraume. They respected you, but you know it’s only because of your mutual relationship with Sukuna. Uraume, however, has made snide remarks towards you when you were both alone - about how you were merely a distraction when dangled in front of his champion’s eyes.
“I think some time apart would do you both good,” they said. “They are never going to stop hounding you because they think there is something more going on, and besides…we can’t have Sukuna fucking up with Gojo now in the mix. We need to show the world that he’s still as strong and as relevant as ever…”
“It’ll die down,” Sukuna stated with frustration.
The both of them bickered over it. It was the first time you have ever witnessed them in a heated exchanged. Your heart started to hurt because you were aware how all of this was only making your best friend see in shades of red.
He wasn’t himself.
He wasn’t thinking clearly.
This was impacting him.
You getting involved in this was impacting him.
“Ryomen,” you said seriously, placing your hand over his. “I think Uraume is right…”
The man turned to you, his fingers lacing between your own subconsciously as he squeezed it tightly in disbelief.
It was the first time you’ve ever seen him hurt.
“It’s just a short time apart,” you said with a comforting smile, “once everyone gets bored we can resume our lives in peace. But right now, I can see this taking a toll on you…”
He furrowed the front of his brows.
“Uraume is looking out for you, and I think what they are saying makes sense. Don’t you?”
“No, I fucking don’t…” he snapped, his eyes glaring at his manager who remained stoic as ever.
“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” they remarked, “I know a part of you agrees with what I have to say.”
“You’re not in the right state of mind, and you need to be”
“It’s for your own good,” Uraume insisted. "You are gambling with your career. With your legacy"
The decision was mutual but entirely heartbreaking all the same. Sukuna drew the circus away, and it broke you when you realized that in order to protect you, he had to sacrifice something in return.
The comfort of your friendship, the sanctuary of your company.
It was the price of fame, and one that he was willing to keep paying.
As a result of this tough decision, Sukuna had grown cold. Not because he was being mean or cruel, but because he thought he was offering you some peace of mind. Because he thought that by withdrawing from you, it would make the pain of the separation easier. He wanted this distance to be a clean break for the both of you, and while he honored keeping in touch, it was just at the bare minimum because his calls and texts were few and far between.
The most you saw of him was on a screen, and you could see that Sukuna was miserable.
He was turning into something vicious in the ring, a violent machine that people glorified. He wasn’t moving with the fluidity of an artist that you used to admire when you first started watching him fight. There was a sense of brutality that was now a part of his make up.
Sukuna was no longer a man, he was a beast.
His persona was dwindling into only intimidation. Every interview, every guest appearance, and every social occasion was met with detachments or disinterest. He was growing snarky and irritable, no longer willing to charm the people around him.
Satoru Gojo was the first to shoot at Sukuna with his words, dredging up his painful break up and even dragging you back into the fold with his commentary. The two of them grew to have a very intense rivalry. They exchanged heated arguments on social media, smack talked the other person in live interviews and had tense interactions in public.
The press and the people were eating up every single second of it.
On the eve of his thirty-first birthday, you received a call from Uraume.
“We are back in the city,” they said, “Sukuna needs to start training up for his match against Satoru Gojo.”
You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat.
“Why didn’t he tell me he was back?” You asked softly.
Uraume sighed, “I don’t have to tell you that he’s been in a fowl mood. The agency is throwing a huge birthday party for him tonight which he is refusing to attend…”
“So, why are you calling me?”
“Because…” Uraume sighed, “he’s about to fly to close to the sun, and I can see he needs an anchor to bring him down to Earth a little bit…”
Your cheeks burned at the statement. “Are you saying I am his anchor?”
“I am saying it’s been almost a year since he last saw you…” Uraume explained, “And I don’t want him feeling awful on his birthday. I care about him too, you know?”
You nodded your head, “No, of course. I know that.”
“I told him that I would stop by to pick him up for the party, but I think giving him a nice surprise might do him so good. Remind the guy to enjoy himself a little…”
“You’re sweet,” you said with a smile.
“As are you, my dear,” Uraume replied tenderly.
“My, my, are you actually giving me a compliment?”
“Don’t let it get to your head,” they remarked playfully, and you felt a hint of ease realizing that things might not be as cold between you both as you thought.
That Uraume was really only ever considering Sukuna's well being first, just like you.
₊ ⊹ .
Uraume made sure that you got to Sukuna’s place in one piece and without anyone knowing that you were even there. You clasped your best friend's present between your fingers, your exposed body shivering from the cold air as you rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment.
It felt right to dress up; you wore a white mini dress with a mesh overlay that had little embroidered detailing on the fabric. There were cut outs in the back, with an adjustable strap from behind cinching the bodice perfectly to your shape. Your kitten heels clicked against the floor, the nerves suddenly tingling their way up your legs as you thought about what Sukuna’s reaction might even be.
This year felt like a century in the timeline of your friendship.
You knocked on his door gently, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.
You could hear the trudge of footsteps from behind the frame, Sukuna’s voice bellowing as he spoke.
“Uraume, for the last fucking time, I told you I am not going, and if you force it I will fire you on the spot-”
He swung the door open and froze.
“Surprise!” You squeaked lightly, awkwardly lifting the gift in your hands. “I got you a present!”
Sukuna blinked once and then twice, his lips parting as if he’s seen a ghost.
“Uraume asked me to come,” you explained. “They told me that you guys were back…”
He stood there dumbfounded, for once rendered completely speechless.
You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth rippling over your skin as the man gave you a once over. His eyes flickered down your body, hovering over all the parts of your exposed skin. Your bare thighs, your décolletage, and up the nape of your neck.
“T-they wanted you to have fun on your birthday,” you added on with an apprehensive grin, “they actually suggested maybe a quiet night in and thought you might just want to spend it with an old friend instead of a bunch of people you probably don’t even like…”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a firm line.
He looked…upset.
Was he not happy to see you?
“Uhm,” you mumbled, your fingers toying with the ribbon at the odd dismissal and lack of enthusiasm, “I-I don’t have to stay, but I did just want to wish you a happy birthday…”
You took a small step forward, holding the present up as an offering. “Happy birthday, ‘Kuna…” you said with a quiet warble in your voice and feeling like a complete idiot for showing up. The disappointment of his response sat heavily on your chest.
He lifted his hand, gripping the present as he plucked it out of your grasp. You cleared your throat, anxiously scratching the back of your ear as you lifted up the strap of your dress which fell on your right shoulder.
“I’ll just…” you added on in defeat, gesturing behind you to indicate that you were leaving.
You didn’t even notice his arm sling behind your waist when your eyes fell downcast.
Suddenly you were pulled over the threshold, the door closing behind you in a bang before your back was pressed up against the wooden frame. Your gaze lifted up to Sukuna, your pupils widening when you you were met with his menacing stare.
“You know,” you said with a gulp, hoping to the ease the tension as you tried to catch your breath. “You really do look like a dragon when you scowl like that…”
“Are you stupid?” He spat with irritation. “What if someone saw you come over? We just got the press off our backs…”
Your pulse hit the base of your throat. “Uraume ensured that no one was around…”
“I thought we agreed to take time apart…” he argued, ignoring your words. “You agreed.”
“You’re mad...” You pointed out, the tip of your nose wincing as you pursed your lips.
“I’m not mad, I’m furious…” he said with irritation. “I’m trying to keep you out of this fucking chaos and you just waltz in, in this sorry excuse of a dress, like everything is perfectly fine?!”
You looked down at your outfit, and folded your arms over your chest.
“I…” you spoke, your voice trailing off as your shoulders slumped.
You didn’t even know if you should apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong and this wasn’t even your idea to begin with. You’ve also never seen Sukuna speak to you this way before, and your confidence bubbled when you recognized that this...wasn’t him.
You straightened your back, tilting your chin up to face him with defiance.
You’re the only person in the world who willingly challenges him.
You don’t even have to raise a fist to watch him break.
He was pushing you away, the same way he did when you found him on the ground of that kindergarten because that’s what Sukuna does when he’s hurting the most.
“God, you’re just as miserable as look…” you pointed out with a quirk of your brow.
His jaw twitched.
“I don’t give a shit who catches me here,” you boldly claimed, “I miss my best friend…” you added before shoving his shoulder, “and you, you asshole, have no excuse for not telling me that you are back home. Just because I agreed to us spending some time apart, that doesn’t mean you get to just...cut me off like that. To not call me, to barely answer my texts, and to just push me away like I don’t matter to you…”
Sukuna winced, taking a step closer to seal the gap of space between you both. He brought his head lower, dipping his forehead to press against your own. Your spine seized in that moment, your lips parting feeling the heat of his breath on your skin.
You were expecting a rebuttal, but this…this wasn’t what you thought would happen.
“You are a pain in my ass…” he whispered, closing his eyes as he circled his free arm around your waist, “and the only thing that matters to me…”
He nudged his face closer, so close you swore to yourself that he might kiss you, before tracking his lips along your jaw and cradling his forehead in the crook of your neck instead.
Your right hand moved him to touch his shoulder, your face contorting with a hint of concern.
You felt it then, something wet on your skin where his forehead lay, and you took in a sharp breath as Sukuna tightened his arm around your waist.
“You shouldn’t have come…” he took a deep inhale against your neck, smelling your skin before clearing his throat from any shakiness.
“You said that already…” you grumbled unamused.
“Stubborn woman, you never listen...” he breathed in once more, “God, I fucking missed you.”
₊ ⊹ .
Sukuna opened his present once everything was settled, and once he finally embraced the reunion without questioning any other factors. He laughed at your little DIY stress kit that you put together for him. You both ordered in pizza, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa with the open cardboard box between you. You talked, and talked, and talked into the late hours of the night. Until there were only crumbs on the bottom of the box which Sukuna placed on the coffee table. The bottle of champagne that you have both been nursing was nearly empty.
Drunk on each other, with a belly full of food and simplistic joy settling in. Sukuna leaned against the arm rest, sprawling his long legs and patting his thigh sweetly.
“C’mere…”
Your heart hammered, and you bit the rim of your champagne glass before obliging.
You stood up, swaying a little and watching his hungry eyes blatantly check you out as you sat on his lap. Sukuna adjusted his position, before dropping his palm on your thigh, his touch stroking up and down your skin.
“What’s going on with you?” You inquired, placing your elbow on his shoulder as you rested your warm cheek against your palm.
You were looking at him with concern, noticing his face sink.
He rubbed one hand over the exhausted expression, an intoxicated blush painting his cheeks.
“The press are worse than ever. After Mei, it’s been…relentless. The stories they are coming up with, the things that they are saying about me. I went from being on top of the world to being the guy everyone loves to fucking hate. And with every fight I go into, people are just waiting for me to wash up. The cherry on top of this whole fucking thing is Satoru Gojo, who won’t stop running his fucking mouth. I want cut the little shit in half…”
You smiled, not to be condescending, but out of gratitude that you both easily slipped back into the shell of your own comfort. “Ryomen, he’s twenty-one years old. Do you not remember how you were at that age?”
He rolled his eyes. “I had more class than he did…”
“But you were aggressive,” you reminded, “You weren’t afraid to tear down the legends that predated you.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that maybe Satoru drew inspiration from somewhere…”
You placed the champagne glass on his chest, your fingers holding the stem as you swirled the liquid around gently. The silence hung in the air because Sukuna knew you were right, but there were other lingering questions pressing you at the same time. And thanks to the alcohol, you had all the courage you needed to ask.
“What happened with Mei?” You wondered, shifting your gaze to meet his.
Sukuna’s index finger tapped up and down your thigh in contemplation.
He closed his eyes and shook his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nothing.”
You quirked your brow again, taking a swig of your champagne.
Sukuna used his free hands to wrap around your own, and he pulled the glass away from you to take a sip himself.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
He chugged the rest of your drink, and placed it on the ground beside him.
“Ryomen…”
“Don’t push me, brat…”
“But why not?” You wondered, “I just…it just seemed like you both were so happy and then all of a sudden…”
He dropped his head back against the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. From underneath his black shirt you saw the silver chain poking through.
Your heart tightened.
You drew one hand on the locket, your finger curling underneath as your thumb tracked over the texture of the necklace.
“You’re still wearing it…” you mumbled.
Sukuna faced you. “I never take it off. Only when I have to get in the ring…” His eyes shifted to your exposed, naked neck, and you mindlessly reached for the silver chain that you were currently not wearing.
“I don’t wear it on certain occasions…” you explained guiltily, “only because I am afraid that I might lose it.”
“Plus, it wouldn’t go with this dress...” Sukuna nonchalantly added on and you laughed at his comment.
He sighed in defeat. “The necklace was a small reason,” he opened up. “Mei hated that I wore it all the time. She would badger me about taking it off. The time I spent with you after Sousuke didn’t help…” he added, treading the delicate topic with as much sensitivity as he could, “she accused me for cheating. I told her she needed to back off because you and I had a history that predates her. I told her that if the roles were reversed, you would be there for me because you have always been there for me…”
Your body froze.
“She would pick fights with me over everything about you. Finally I had enough, and told her she needed to fucking trust me if this was going to work. But things never went back to the way they used to. It was always up and down with Mei. Finally, when she had enough, she told me that I had a choice to make. Either I cut you off for us to happily together. Or…she leaves…”
You sat up, staring at him with wide eyes and shock.
“I’m…” you gasped, “I’m the reason why you both broke up?”
The guilt struck you harder than you expected, and you looked down at Sukuna’s torso shamefully as you recalled the state of yourself post-break up, thinking of all the moments where you might have potentially stolen precious time away from his former lover.
“Ryomen, I am so…I am so sorry…”
Two fingers brushed underneath your chin, and Sukuna lifted your head so you could see him.
“I picked you,” he confessed, “I picked you.”
“But-”
“There is no “but”,” he said with a shake of his. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for over two decades. You are my person. You are my family. You…”, he sighed, “you didn’t deserve what happened afterwards...”
His hands trailed up until his digits caught the hem of your dress.
“I’m keeping my distance to protect you..."
“But you loved her,” you gasped, “I saw it. I saw you both. I would’ve…I would’ve stepped aside. If I was causing any issues, I would’ve…respected your boundaries. I love you, Ryomen. I just want you to be happy, and if that means that I take a step back-”
“I did love her,” Sukuna interjected, the heat of gaze flicking upward, the rims slightly red from the alcohol he consumed. “But I love you more…”
He drew all the air out of your lungs with the slip of his tongue, making you perch yourself up so you were actually looking directly at him. His pupils were dilated, widening as if to give you access to the depths of his soul. In all your years you’ve known him, you don’t think the two of you ever actually exchanged those words. It was always veiled with “I care for you,”, “I adore you,” “You’re my person,” and “this is why we are best friends.”
But love…
That felt forbidden to say out loud, even though you both knew that the root of your friendship was only built on love, it shouldn't have come as such a shock to you for the confession to slip so naturally.
You gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, in a way that you haven’t since you were both sixteen years old.
Wondering…
Considering…
“I don’t…” you said quietly, sitting upright as he shifted beneath you.
You wound up straddling him, both your hands resting on his shoulders while his own continued to tease the hem of your dress.
“I don’t know what to say…” you exhaled.
Sukuna pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, allowing the silence to hang for a few minutes before switching the subject.
“Did you dress up for me?” He joked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his devilish mouth. He slid one hand underneath your dress, making you gasp as his touch moved dangerously high up your thigh.
“Wanted to look cute,” you murmured, your words lacing tightly together as the champagne danced across your tongue. You felt a pulse radiate between your legs, and you unknowingly clenched much to Sukuna’s amusement.
“Cute for me?” He coaxed.
“Cute in general,” you remarked.
His other hand sprawled across your back, and you knew he was testing his boundaries.
“Ryomen…” you warned, but it only made him break out into a full grin. His irises were drowning in lust and inebriation, and your own were falling in suit.
The hand on your hip dragged up further, until his fingers brushed over the string of your underwear. You scratched your nails down his chest, feeling your back arch into his palm as you mindlessly rolled your hips.
His lips moved to your ear, that mellifluous voice dangerously close. “Let’s play a game…”
He squeezed the fat of your hip, his weight lifting you up and the entire room spun as he pinned you underneath him when he switched your positions. He locked you against the plush sofa with his thighs, a throaty laugh coming through from your sudden squeak of surprise.
“Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Princess...” He teased, his teeth nipping at the side of your throat. “Or you’ll end up being my dinner…”
Your body vibrated from the sensation of his touch. You gripped his jaw firmly and pulled his face towards you, your brows furrowing at the proclamation of a challenge.
“It’s not fair to go against a boxing champion,” you argued, your spine curving as Sukuna slipped his other thigh between your legs.
He dropped his head to the base of your throat, his teeth catching the sensitive spot just above your collar bone, “don’t worry,” he soothed over the gentle bite, “I’ll play fair…”
“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled through gritted teeth.
“You’re fault for waltzing into the dragon’s lair…” he alerted, quoting the very same line he used to when you would both play this silly fantasy game together.
But you’re not wielding plastic swords and entering into the enemies domain with a sense of courage. Now, it felt like playing with fire. Your skin was burning at the contact, at Sukuna’s weight over your throbbing body. When he nibbled on your neck again, your hand gripped onto the back of his head, tugging his hair a little roughly as you pulled him away.
Sukuna purred.
“You’ve never been able to beat me…” you teased, giving into the world of make believe just one more time but speaking the truth regarding this fact. “I’ve always been your biggest challenge…”
“Watch me win tonight,” he pushed with confidence, reaching for your wrist and pinning it above your head.
“And what are the rules here exactly?” You quipped, your tongue tingling and your body buzzing with excitement and curiosity. “Am I supposed to kill the dragon and win back my castle?”
Sukuna laughed, his eyes darkening as he pressed his forehead to yours once more.
“No need to draw any swords. Let’s play a game of submission…” he boldly claimed, and your attention flickered to find his brazen smile burning even brighter on his face. “First person to cum loses”
“Are you making a move on me?” You light heartedly disputed.
“Not at all,” Sukuna maintained, but you can tell from his tone that he’s veiling the truth.
There was something hard pressing up against you, and you had a feeling it was a nudge for some relief.
“It’s the dress isn’t it?” you giggle.
“If you even call it a dress…”
“Can’t handle a little skin?”
“I don’t want to shock you by telling you got me half hard just showing up,” he confessed, something unfolding in your drunken stupor.
“I can feel you…” you sighed, and the man hummed as he molded his body into you.
You felt him twitch, and it made your thighs tremble.
“We had too much champagne,” you informed.
“That we did”
“We should probably stop…” you exhaled, your lashes fluttering when you felt his thigh flex against your cunt.
“Do you want to?” Sukuna asks, his voice growing serious. His hand on your hip tugs at the string of your underwear, and he releases it with a snap as it pinches back against your skin.
You licked your lips, your brain too fuzzy to contradict what your heart wanted. “You know I will never back down from a challenge with you…”
“That's what I like about you,” Sukuna adoringly praises.
“And we both know you’re going to lose, right?”
Your throat shrinks, Sukuna’s hand gliding over your pubis to press the drenched spot against your underwear.
“Don’t underestimate me, Princess,” he advices ominously, “we’ve never played a game like this before.”
₊ ⊹ .
Clothes had to stay on - that was the rule you both agreed with.
To keep things fair.
To keep it…playful.
Your nipples pebbled, poking hard against the fabric of your dress as Sukuna sucked on the skin of your neck. You knew for a fact that he was leaving a mark there, and all you could do was bite back as his mouth trailed down the column and over the slope of your breast. You whimpered when he tugged at your clothed nipple with with his teeth, making the muscles in your leg seize from the sudden contact.
You had to do something, and so you reached your hand between your legs to lightly graze over his erection pressing against his sweats.
Sukuna groaned, and you sniggered at the reaction.
You lifted your head and neck, bringing your mouth to his own ear.
“You know,” you seductively stated, your fingers outlining the length of his hard member. “The first time I ever touched myself was after watching you practice in the ring…”
Sukuna cursed under his breath, your fingers squeezed around his length. You proceeded to stroke the heat of his member, striking hard for your first blow. “And I always do whenever I watch you fight. I get so hot and bothered seeing you in the ring. I even have a a specific vibrator I use…I named it after you…”
“Fucking hell,” he hissed when you snuck your hand underneath his waistband, bringing your touch even closer as you palmed him over his boxers.
“I’ve never told you that secret…” you declared, bringing your own teeth to his earlobe which you tugged mercilessly.
Sukuna lost himself for a moment, making you think this was going to be an easy win. But you heard him steady his breathing, could his muscles flexing as if to tame his own body back from giving in.
“I heard you once…” he stammered suddenly, closing his eyes as he recollected his memories. “Back when you were living in the dorm. I came over to drop off something, and you…ugh, fuck-…you were in the bathroom…moaning. I thought you were in pain at first, until I realized…”
Your own cheeks burned at his confession, the surprise making you ease your grip.
Sukuna grabbed your wrist then and pulled you away from his crotch. He placed it on your breast, and you absentmindedly pinched your nipple as he slid his hand between your legs. He lowered himself down, slithering underneath you and making your ears sting with vexation. He pushed your dress over your thighs, exposing your light colored underwear. The noticeable wet patch made his eyes glitter with satisfaction.
“I would have jacked off on the spot, but I left. I was clearly intruding on a private matter, but that didn’t stop me from blowing a load the second I made it to my place,” he carries on, bringing his nose and pressing it against your slit. “So fucking sweet…”
You tried to push his head away, and in response he dragged his tongue over the moist patch on your underwear.
“Oh my god,” you moaned, your hips bucking from the sensation.
“You’re the first person I think of when I touch myself,” he revealed, humming as his tongue lewdly licked over your underwear.
Your whole lower belly tingled, your arousal only slicking the fabric.
You needed to distract him from carrying on, but Sukuna hooked two fingers underneath your underwear and tugged them to the side.
You sat up on your forearms, pressing your thighs against his cheeks to stop him from diving in.
“Don’t cheat,” you sternly addressed, but Sukuna only scoffed vindictively.
“You’re still wearing them, Princess…” he pointed out, and the loophole made your core pulse with anticipation. “This isn’t cheating…”
With your panties tugged aside, Sukuna used two fingers to spread the lips apart.
He was staring at your pussy, studying it like it was the first one he’s ever looked at.
You wanted to say something, to ask what he was doing. But to your surprise he just placed a gentle kiss on your clit before murmuring sweetly into your sex. “You’re beautiful,” Sukuna complimented, as if expressing a blessing before a meal then finally dragging his wet tongue up along the slit of your exposed pussy.
“You’re ch-cheating…” was all you could think of blubbering out in the haze of lust, feeling the vibration of his laugh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder.
It hits you then - the fact that this man indulges in going down on women. Though he never explicitly shared all the lewd details with his past partners, he did mention how it was “his favorite thing to do”. After all these years, you finally get to experience it for yourself. Feel how he latches onto your pussy as your arousal drips like he’s pouring honey out of the jar and slurping the sticky, creamy essence. You whine when he prods his tongue between your folds, expertly sliding the muscle as he rolls it in gentle waves to stir a budding orgasm. Your fingers intertwine around his locks, reading to yank him off until he slurps and sucks in just the right spot that has you simply massaging his scalp instead.
“…’kuna~…” you mewl, your nails dragging over his scalp.
The man circles his mouth over your tender clit, sucking on the bud before pressing another kiss on the nub.
Your pussy throbs when he pulls away, but you were proud for holding back.
It was your opportunity to distract him, and you shrugged off one of your straps to pull down your dress to expose your left breast. Sukuna’s attention flickered upward, watching you tweak at the hard nub as you gave him a shy grin.
“The felt really good,” you breathily whined.
He began crawling his way back up, and you used this opportunity to lift your body upright. He was distracted, wasn't even thinking about you finding a way out of this position. His lips instantly latched onto your nipple, his hands gripping the fat of your ass as he sucked on the point feverishly.
You licked your lips, doing everything in your power not to fall back into the black hole of his gripping dominance.
When he released you, you instantly pushed his back against the couch and climbed on top of him so you were safely straddling him again. You forcefully dragged your wet cunt over his erection, leaving a little trail of you to stain the fabric of his pants. Sukuna grunted with pleasure, bucking his hips as you ground yours.
“You’re not as sharp with me,” you giggled, languidly gliding your cunt over his begging member.
“Because you’re fucking distracting,” Sukuna grieves, his hands clenching into tight balls by his side as he refuses to grab onto your ass and push for more friction.
You felt him sink, using his shoulders as leverage to keep you perched in just the right position so your pussy was rubbing over his cock. You bit back a sound of pleasure from leaving you, and instead exhale softly as you continue rocking back and forth.
“You’re big everywhere aren’t you,” you tantalized, noting the way his jaw tense as a rumble erupted from his chest in a deep groan which morphed into a slightly sinister laugh.
“Let me show you.”
He lifted his hips, making you pause at the sudden awkward shift. He pushed his sweat pants down just to meet the end of his boxers. The removal of the first layer was a small relief, but your eyes widened as he settled back down. His erection was tenting, pressing up against the thin black material and making you see a clear distinction of his balls and thick shaft.
“Go on then,” he tempted.
Your could feel yourself getting wet. The tightness in your belly only contracting further.
You stared him down, knowing full well that he was manipulating you at that very moment.
“Why stop there?” You rebutted.
You helped pulled out the weight of his heavy cock from the restraint, watching his length smack against his lower belly as the tip dribbled with cum. Sukuna moaned when your thumb pressed against the slit, your touch dragging back and forth as you aligned yourself.
The sounds of your panting breaths were far too loud in this quiet room. You hesitated for a minute before lowering yourself, pressing the fat tip at your entrance. You gulped down air from the stretch alone, your arousal enough lubricant for your take him. You sank, your attention on Sukuna’s whose eyes were honed in on the point of contact of your sexes.
When your pelvis finally kiss his own, when your bodies were merged into one, you felt two hands seek your waist as you trembled in his arms.
Your dress had fallen back over, covering him buried inside you. You were looking up at him now as his chest rose to press yours.
A puzzle piece finally connecting.
He twitched inside you, and you clenched around his length, but neither of you moved. You forgot, for a moment, that this was just a game. That the two of you were probably going to wake up tomorrow morning not being able to face the other person. Your heart was racing, your body begging for movement but you couldn’t snap yourself out of the bold decision you already made.
Sukuna was looking deep into our eyes, the sparkle behind his own irises making you think of embers on winter night.
His hands slipped up your waist, over the curves of your breast and up on the length of your neck. He held your head between his palms, the tips of his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks, with his fingers to the back of your neck. He tilted his head down slightly, his nose brushing against the bridge of yours and he did something that caught you entirely off guard.
His lips were warm on yours, the kiss the softest gesture you’ve ever experienced from him. He held a firm kiss at first, long enough until you were crumbling apart. You parted your mouth, granting him entrance and he swiped his tongue to lick the inside. He was tracing your own, his wet and wanting mouth only growing more hungry as you eagerly accepted his kiss. Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, and goosebumps peaked all over your skin when you felt his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your cheeks.
You’ve never been kissed like this before. Never felt bursts of light erupt from behind your eyelids or your stomach explode with fireworks. This always just fun foreplay for you, but nothing that would make you quiver in heat. You almost came on the spot from this one little act that you’ve imagined since you were sixteen, the one which you thought would never occur because of an unspoken rule on boundaries. But it was finally happening, and it was far too magical for you to even comprehend.
He swallowed your moan, tasted how sweet your desire actually was. The kiss was getting heated, your walls tightening around his cock His lips wrapped around your tongue. He sucked on it, before sliding his own back over yours.
You felt so weak; were reminded that you truly were just a fragile thing in his arms and nothing more.
He pulled away, a string of saliva sticking from his lips to yours but you shook your head as you circled your hands around his wrists.
“More,” you cried desperately without thinking.
Sukuna smiled against your mouth and obliged.
You don’t know how long you both sat there making out. But every time he tried to pull you away you sighed “again,”, or moaned “don’t stop”. You didn’t even consider kissing to be an option on the table, but the more you were getting turned on the further your guard went down. Your hips started to bounce lightly, your pussy so bothered that it wanted some relief. You started fucking yourself over his length, your mouth battling with lips, teeth and tongue in a very heated stand off. Sukuna relaxed his body against the sofa, noticing you melt over him like you were wax. Your hips were moving up and down, your tongue languidly rolling around his mouth. You could feel Sukuna moving with you, bucking his hips in return. His jerks were growing sharper, his hands dropping back down to your hips to keep you in place. Your foreheads were touching, lips parting, panting heavily as you climbed and higher. The two of you were lost in the moment, forgetting everything else that led up to this.
You were going to lose this one, you thought, and you didn’t even care.
Your head was spinning, your heart bursting, and you reached to hold his jaw in your hand out of desperation, hoping that by clinging to him it meant that you wouldn’t disappear into the haze of it all. Entirely overwhelmed by the feeling, by this particular connection, your eyes started to water, with tears falling as your nose grew stuffy.
“Ryomen~” you begged, your dulcet voice full of affection. The tip of his cock hit your sweetest spot and at that point you knew you were done for.
But Sukuna jerked his hips, the groan that ripped out of him made your belly spasm. He pulled out fast, shooting his cum all over you. Your orgasm collapsed into you just seconds after, and the two of you were shaking against one another as you tried to reorient yourselves to the present.
You were a mess, and so was he.
Two hands found your thighs as your torso collided into his. You placed one hand on the base of his neck, and rested your cheek against the crook.
“You lost,” you joked with a sniffle, because you were unsure what to say, and because you realized you had just fucked your best friend and had no idea what that meant.
Sukuna just grinned, flashing you a knowing smile and a devilish smirk.
He perched your chin under his fingers, tapping the end sweetly.
“Doesn’t feel like I did,” he breathed, and your eyes glittered once more.
You arched up to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know a dragon could kiss this well…”
Sukuna chuckled, bumping the tip of his nose to yours affectionately as he tilted his head down. “I’ve had time to practice.”
You sighed into another kiss, “What did we do, Ryomen?”
“Something we should have done a long time ago…” he responded in between.
“You love me…” you breathed.
“And you’re surprised?” He interrupted with another kiss.
“I don’t know what that means…”
He nipped at your bottom lip. “It means what it means. I love you. Fuck, enough that I nearly fucking came inside you without thinking. You haven’t been around and I feel like I've lost my goddamn mind in just a year…”
Your nails dragged down his chest your heart leaping its way up your throat.
“I love you too,” you revealed. “I love you, Ryomen. And I missed you too."
You both fell asleep on the sofa, waking up the next morning and replaying the events of your drunken stupor. After you both cleaned up and showered, you had a serious conversation over two cups of coffee. Though, you aren’t quite sure how "serious" it was, considering that Sukuna had you sitting on his lip while you were gently stroking his hair.
He revealed that the reason why he didn’t tell you about his return was also partially due to the fact that he was leaving that very night to hop on plane and fly halfway across the world. He couldn't bring himself to see you for only a short stint when he knew he needed far more time together after everything.
“Uraume is right,” he bitterly admitted, “You are a big distraction for me right now, and I have to be in the right headspace for this fight with Gojo”
“You sound worried,” you pointed out with a furrow of your brows, your hands dragging back his locks as you threaded your digits between the strands to push his hair back from his forehead.
“If he beats me then I am done,” Sukuna blurted, “what I have built will diminish into nothing. I can’t lose to him. It’ll cost me my career…”
Disappointment wrapped its arms around you just as Sukuna loosened his own grip. But you could hear the hint of tiny, tiny fear behind his words was enough to you feel hollow. Sukuna has never felt threatened, but this was a serious fight for him. He’s worked so hard for all of this, and he was not willing to give it up to some punk who just shot into the scene.
“Why don’t we revisit this after the fight then?” You offered.
He glanced at you.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." you exhaled, "what if maybe we just need to wait a little longer before we allow ourselves to have this..."
Sukuna paused for a moment. “You’d wait for me?” He asked.
A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, because you always come back to me”
“That I do” he responds
You brush your fingers under his chin, tilting it upward once more to receive another kiss. “I’ll wait for you,” you ensure. "Because I'll always come back to you too."
₊ ⊹ .
One hand slides into the front pocket of your denim skirt, and Sukuna rests his chin on top of your head. You smile to yourself, though he can’t see it, because he’s busy watching you slice bits of fruit as you place it into one of his ceramic bowls. When you were kids, Sukuna would have to look around your arm whenever he hugged you from behind. The years show the evolution of this gesture, from him suddenly perching over your shoulder until he could simply see over your crown.
He sighs, his other arm curling over your belly as he embraces you.
“Don’t add the blueberries,” he mumbles.
You oblige, your back leaning into the breadth of his chest.
The two of you haven’t touched one another since that faithful night.
Up until the fight, you and Sukuna simply returned back to the way things used to be. Except this time there were little alterations in your day to day conversations that indicated a shift.
For one, Sukuna was a flirt.
You were use to this commentary, but now that your friendship has taken a turn you find your cheeks growing heated more often around him because his words weren't gray. What he says toward you, and the way he compliments you rings very, very true. There is also a deep tenderness for one another that you both are finally allowing to express freely. You don't dull your affection, and instead allow it to overflow. And last of all, the longing to be back together was pathetically obvious.
You placed the strawberries, sliced peaches and peeled oranges into the bowl, your fingers a little tacky. “I need to wash my hands,” you indicate, and Sukuna begrudgingly releases you from his hold.
You’re surprised that he didn’t pounce on you so quickly.
The two of you only had one other sexual moment just a few months ago.
Sukuna video called you one evening, his face tight with frustration.
He was exhausted from training, and even more drained by the press.
They were claiming that his new “pumped physique” was due to steroid use, and one little rumor had the representatives of the boxing association hounding him like he was a real culprit in this make believe story. Suddenly, his hard work and training was being reduced to the thing that the press claimed him to be: a cheater.
He called you to ensure you that everything was alright. That he was forced to take tests which all came out negative (obviously) and and effectively proved his innocence.
“I can’t wait to be home,” he breathed with annoyance. “I’m fucking sick of this shit…”
You were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, gently patting your moisturizer onto your face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you stated, offering him only an apology because it's all you could give. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”
Sukuna arched his brow, his attention hovering in front of the screen.
“Yeah, you can take off that robe you’re wearing…” he teased.
You jerked your head to the camera in surprise, noting his cheeky tone.
“Ha-ha…” you remarked.
“I’m being serious,” he answered back, his mouth dropping into an instant frown. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I can’t even do the one thing I want to help me relax…”
You arched your brow. “And what might that be?”
He revealed his canines, a wolfish grin brightening that handsome face. “Fucking my girl...”
Your heart thumped, and you swallowed the sudden tightness in your throat. You picked up your lip balm and dabbed your finger into the ointment before gliding it over your bottom lip.
“Your girl, huh?” You reiterated casually, hoping that Sukuna wouldn’t quite pick up on the catch in your throat.
“You’re always my girl, even when you weren’t mine to call that…” he added softly, his voice pulling your attention back towards him.
He wasn’t kidding around, with the look on his face entirely serious. The tips of your ears stung with a heat that you couldn’t explain, and you just had the sudden urge to reach through the screen and pull his face back towards you.
You wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you always felt like you belonged to him too.
The two of you an inseparable pair for a reason.
Instead, you stripped down to reveal your naked form. You perched the camera towards the back for a wider shot, and allowed your body to speak to Sukuna instead. One of your legs was resting on the bathroom sink, the other grounding you on the floor. You had the camera facing your cunt, with your fingers buried deep inside. But it was nothing compared to the stretch of Sukuna’s digits, wasn’t filling you enough to reach you to the pleasurable climax you desired.
“It’s not enough,” you gasped in between breaths, watching Sukuna passionately jerk off from he other side of the screen, “Need you, ‘kuna~” you whined, “it’s not enough with you…”
The memory hits you, making your lower belly tighten.
You dry your hands off to face him, only to find the man standing with an expression of guilt on his face.
The same concern you had earlier when you left the elevator reappeared once more.
You pick up the fruit bowl from the counter, trying your best not to give the discomfort attention. You offer Sukuna a strawberry, lifting it towards his mouth but he instantly circles his hand around your wrist and pulls it back down.
“I need to tell you something,”
You scrunch your brows, and place the fruit bowl back onto the counter.
“What’s wrong?”
Sukuna closes his eyes, a look of shame washing over him.
You take a step closer, wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” You repeat, coaxing him to speak.
“I nearly threw the fight tonight.”
You jerk your head up in shock, your lips parting as your jaw falls from the confession.
“You…what?”
Sukuna rubs his tired face with one hand, using every ounce of courage to look back at you.
“There was a moment in the ring when Satoru threw a relatively decent punch,” he explains, “I had the lights knocked out of me for a split second. When I turned to face him it hit me then...that I could fake dodging his next attack before giving him the opening that he needs to win. One more hit and I’d...collapse. Let the referee do his count, and that would be it…”
You knew the exact moment he was referring to. It was the point in the match where your ears were ringing because you truly thought that you would be witnessing a loss on Sukuna's part. The entire crowd was muttering in shock, all of them on the precipice of a potential shift in legacy.
“I didn’t follow through because I think Satoru noticed a change in my demeanor. It was only a few seconds, but the kid is fucking sharp. He wasn't smugly determined then, he was looking at me with...confusion. I couldn't do it then. I didn't want him to get a cop out on my end. So, I carried on the fight the way I would. After the match, I thought I could just let the moment pass but Uraume tried to bring it up later and I shut it down because I didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I needed to just get it off my chest…”
“You were going to give him that win?” You expressed with deep concern, tightening your hold around his waist as you watched Sukuna’s face to turn hard.
It hits you then - that the Champ, The Monster of The Ring, The Beast and King Himself was…burnt out. Sukuna’s fire had been gone for quite some time, you just thought it would reignite after tonight.
But it didn't.
You bring your hands to his biceps and caress your palms up and down.
“Ryomen,” you speak, licking your lips with hesitation before finally asking. “Is this what you still want?”
Contemplative eyes meet yours as his palms find both your cheeks. He drops his head down, his lips seeking yours as he takes into account the gash on the muscle, then places a careful kiss on your mouth.
“I just want you,” he hums.
“M’right here,” you murmur back, “Not going anywhere.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” he adds on, “that’s all I could think about during the fight. Was just coming home to you, coming home to us…”
A shiver runs down your back, but your body vibrates with an innocent excitement. “We don’t have to wait anymore,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what happens. No matter what comes next…”
Sukuna looks at you then, knowing full well what your statement means.
Once news breaks out of the two of you being an actual item, heaven knows what might happen. If the paparazzi have been plaguing Sukuna like a curse this whole time, it was only going to get even more complicated with you so intimately intertwined in his world. And now that he was back on top as the champion, he knew full well that all eyes were going to remain on him.
From when he was a child, no matter what he believed about his life that would deter you from him. His broken home wasn't enough to push you. His anger wasn't enough to push you. His detachment wasn't enough to push you. The chaos that is his world wasn't enough to push you.
You have always remained solidly by his side.
His constant. The only thing in the world that he can rely on.
“I love you,” he states under his breath, leaning in to peck you for a second time.
“I love you too,” you repeated with a smile against his lips.
There was no epic moment around this sober reveal, no exceptional circumstance other than the privacy of it being spoken with no one else to hear it other than the two of you.
You loved one another, in the deepest possible way you could love a person. From there your lips parted, and you carefully kissed the man before you as he scooped you up in his arms.
He repeated the phrase again when he placed you on the kitchen counter, with his fingers buried deep within the folds of your wet pussy.
You moaned it back to him after he carried you into his bedroom, with your fists tangled between his hair as he ate you out.
He grunted it out one last time, with his hand gripping the headboard as he watched your body melt into the matters when he thrusted his dick in and out of you as he made love to you feverishly.
And you mumbled it back one last time while he held you in his arms, the two of you falling asleep from a very long night of unbridled passion.
Sukuna was the first to wake at the crack of dawn. He rolled over to grab his phone from the side table in an attempt to turn off his alarm before it woke you up as well. As he looked at the device, his heart sank.
A number of notifications were blowing up his phone and it was making him feel dizzy.
News articles were already painting him in all his glory after his fight with Satoru, with his opponent looking battered in defeat. The press had finally flipped, and suddenly began to revere him the way he deserved to be. There were text messages from an influx of people, either congratulating him or wanting get his thoughts on the match. Sukuna feels the tremor in his hand build as he starts to scroll through the notifications.
He places the device on the blanket in front of him, his eyes looking out to the large windows as he watches the sky shift from a deep violet to a lilac blue. He turns this head to gaze at you. This image of you by his side, in a position that he’s seen multiple times in his life, feels different now too. The soft glow of new daylight washes over your body, and the stillness of the hour has him believing that he actually made it to heaven. Sukuna places a soft kiss on your forehead, then carefully kicks off the blankets. He searches for his boxers, then pulls on the pair before stepping out into his balcony.
He calls Uraume.
Usually they pick up quick, but Sukuna counts down the rings until they do.
“My King,” they tease, their voice a little groggy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sukuna watches a bird fly across the horizon, the ease in his chest an affirmation to what he’s about to say.
“I’m retiring,” he announces. “I’m done.”
The silence hangs in the air, streaks of orange and yellow begin to tint the clouds.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that…”
“is that why it took you long to answer my call?”
Uraume huffs out a laugh. “I guess I was hoping for another piece of news…”
“Are you mad?” Sukuna asks, only honoring Uraume with his worry because he knows how much they have done for him to begin with.
Uraume sighs, “I’m not actually. It’s the smartest decision you can make. You retire now and you basically leave the game while sitting at the top. You’ve earned that throne, and it won’t be easy for these rookies to take it from you so quickly…”
Sukuna chuckles, “you’re right about that…”
Uraume lets the quiet overtake the conversation. “I’ll give it a few days before I break the news to the press.”
“And then what?”
“There’s definitely going to be a lot of interviews, and a retirement party that you will have to attend wether you like it or not…”
“And what about you?”
Uraume hums, “You and I had a good run. If it’s the end for you, then I guess I can finally retire too..”
Sukna furrows his brows, his nails scratch over the rail on his balcony. “I don’t want you doing that because of me…”
Uraume laughs, “You’ve earned my loyalty, what can I say?”
“Thank you,” Sukuna breathes, “For everything you’ve done for me. You’re more than just a manager, but I think you already know that...”
“I know it,” Uraume answers back. “And I also know that this is the right decision because you sound…relieved.”
He hears you then.
You were calling out to him, “‘kuna, where are you?~”
He turns his back to face the railing, missing the sun breaking through the horizon at the sound of your voice. He smiles thinking about the adorable, frustrated look on your face when you probably reached out and couldn’t find him, and he slowly begins making his approach back into his bedroom.
“I am,” he speaks to Uraume, “I’ve got to go. Will talk about this later.”
He hangs up the phone, and returns to the shadow of deep, restful slumber. He places the phone back on his side table, and smiles at the exact disappointed expression that he pictured when he was outside.
The second you feel his warmth back in your presence, you snuggle up into his frame.
“Where did you go?” You mumble with a yawn, and Sukuna wraps his strong arms around you as he nestles back into your body.
“Nowhere,” he breathes, easing back into your embrace.
“Heard you talking,” you add on, you eyes still shut but your arm slinking around his neck to keep him close.
It’s taken you both over two decades to get here, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to come in the way of that. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he reassures, keeping his loving eyes on you as he clutches onto his bright, new future with his favorite person.
A life that you both will now get to live in peaceful happiness.
₊ ⊹ .
:note: hi, everyone! long form fics has been really draining for me these days but these one shots feel like a great refresher. I know this is a monster of a fic, but I hope you enjoy the story. comments and reblogs are appreciated!
Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female)
Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut
Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame
Warnings: 18+, smut, fuckbuddies to lovers, semipublic/public sex, dirty talk, creampie, oral, handjobs, fingering, hickeys, mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07 - coming soon
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Accompanying art for this series:
Smoke break with Sukuna by @sweetlandspos
Sukuna during practice by @samaraxmorgan
Thank you so much for those beautiful and sexy pictures!!
To get added to the taglist please comment or send me an ask (18+ only) ♥️
Corruption | Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Eijirou x Reader
Welcome to another BNHArem server collab. This month the prompt was ✨Bakugou✨! And I promise this was in no way, shape or form my idea. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve written any KiriBaku threesomes, so I hope this is okay! No beta because I was too scared to ask someone to read 11k of my shit.
Please check out all the other amazing creators here.
We used some amazing random generator wheels to pick our prompts for this collab and I rolled Prison AU, “It’s called a hustle, sweetheart.” and Voyeurism.
Summary: Bakugou & Kirishima are prison guards and they take a liking to the pretty new inmate.
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader
Warnings: 18+, dub-con, prison!AU, coercion, manipulation, abuse of power, degradation, face fucking, spit, slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, voyeurism, rimming (m!receiving), double stuff/penetration (in the pussy), unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, gape, creampie.
Word Count: 11.1k
You’d expected prison to be bad, but nothing could have prepared you for your first time incarcerated. The same drip, drip of the faucet in your room sounding in your ears like a constant echo. Such a subtle noise but enough to drown out the shrill cries of the inmates residing in the other cells. Time seemed to go so slowly inside, twenty-four hours seemed like a week of hell. Trying to avoid counting down the minutes until you’d be able to leave this hellhole. You shouldn’t have even been incarcerated anyway, none of this was your fault.
You couldn’t place the exact moment when your life had gone awry, the day everything changed when you were thrust into these stone-cold walls. Had it been three weeks, or two? Stuck like an animal in a cage as you tried to focus on anything but the days, hours, minutes that you had left in this place. Just trying to keep your head down and get out as quickly as possible. Although there was one person in particular that seemed to have other ideas for you, attempting to make your life difficult at any passing moment.
✯pairing: fushiguro toji x reader, ryōmen sukuna x reader, gojo satoru x reader, getou suguru x reader, (slight gojo x getou)
✯synopsis: the prettiest girls really are the best breeding sluts
✯wordcount: 3.6k
✯warning: gangbang, spit kink, cuckolding, breeding, unprotected sex, praise kink, double penetration, anal, cunnilingus, oral (both fem and male receiving), two cocks in one hole, all of them have big cocks.
“Slow down, sweetheart. You’ll choke,” his deep voice rumbles, his comment causing the spectators to chuckle lightly. You restrain yourself from glaring at the man through your lashes, tears steadily sliding down your face while your nose is buried deep into the small tuft of raven hair.
“You can’t deny, she’s a cute little thing, isn’t she? Always so fucking eager to please.” another man spoke, the voice you recognize as Suguru’s. You’ve had several encounters with him in the past, each meeting more obscene than the last. You feel him cup the flesh of your ass, purposely avoiding your dripping lips. Suguru loves to tease.
“You’re being so mean, Suguru. My little bunny deserves to have her pussy touched, doesn’t she? Tell me, bunny. Do you think you deserve to have your tiny pussy touched by all four of us?” Satoru whispers, nibbling on your ear lightly before pulling away with a mocking laugh.
You garble around Toji’s cock, unable to respond. “She’s so pretty drooling on cock. Princess loves choking on it, doesn’t she?” Sukuna cooed, petting your head lightly before one of his hands sneakily makes its way to your breasts, his fingertips grazing your pebbled nipples.
“Come on, sweetheart. Suck my cock properly. You’re getting too distracted here.” Toji scolds you as he grasps your head with both hands, the sheer size of his hands dwarfing your cute little head. You moan around his cock as a response, bobbing your head obediently while sliding your tongue across the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit.
polluted
geto suguru, gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso/f!reader
word count: 11k
warnings: 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, recreational drug use (weed), dubious consent, slight sexual coercion, sex under the influence, gangbang, oral sex (f! and m!receiving), double penetration (oral and vaginal), biting, spitting, creampie, snowballing, pussyjob, fingering, choking, squirting, hair pulling, generally rough sex, implication of non-consensual filming/photography, shotgunning, college!au, no curses!au, slight dumbification, ft a cameo from nanami.
a/n: this is a continuation of a drabble i posted ages ago (the first few hundred words of this fic!) feel free to skip that if you’ve already read it. also these tags alone are sending me to hell. enjoy! never talk to me about this again!
crossposted to AO3
“D'ya want some?” Gojo asks up at you, his head in your lap as you tap at the screen of your cellphone idly, leaving a heart on a friend’s perfectly filtered photo that only makes you feel a little bitter when you look at it.
“Hm?” you ask, glancing down towards him as he peers up at your face. He has a bag of gummy candy resting on his tummy, and you part your lips and stick your tongue out slightly, asking for one of his sweets.
He lets out a little heh at your expression before popping a pink and blue candy–dusted with a sweet-sour crystalline coating–into your waiting mouth.
“I meant the weed,” Gojo answers your earlier hum only once you begin to chew the treat he’d just fed you. He sticks his thumb in his mouth, licking it clean of the tangy sugar that clings to it. “D'ya want some?”
“Oh,” you reply, eyes flickering to the other side of Gojo and Geto’s dorm room where Choso is seated on the floor, a pillow on his lap and an old DVD case on top of it. He’s diligently packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper–little bits of green clinging to the tips of his fingers like the sugar had to Gojo’s. “I don’t think so.”
mdni; threesome, anal, dp, creampie, brief spanking, pet names (princess, angel, baby), female reader, spit. based on this - i wrote this in like 20 minutes, not proofread. (1.4k)
It's the debauchery of it, the downright sinfulness of it. It should be wrong, it should feel wrong and yet; it feels right. Too right.
Yuuji is your saving grace, a gentle caress when you're sprawled out against his chest. You're panting already, huffing against the skin between his throat and collarbone. He tucked you between his chin for what you assume was to keep you closer—but in reality, it's so he can get a better view of what's about to happen.
But it's Sukuna who is the devil on your shoulder, quite literally. His hands are larger than Yuujis, they slide along your sides, thumbs dipping into the length of your spine. You're so much smaller than him, so pliable—fuckable. It has him practically drooling over you, it's a situation he dreamt of. To have you pinned beneath him, willing and waiting.
His fingers are pressed deep inside of you, your ass taking him so well—it's downright filthy. You're mewling against Yuuji's skin, your saliva and hot breath making his skin sticky. Sukuna continues to lean over you, the length of his leaking cock pressed against the side of your thigh.
Yuuji was already buried deep inside of your cunt, seated so deeply that he could feel your walls contracting from how his fingers dragged back and forth inside of you. Yuuji's cock twitches when you squeeze around his length, pulling a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.
"Sukuna—" Yuuji chokes out, eyes rolling into the back of his head when you contract again around his cock. "She's ready, fuck, please."
"Is that right, princess? You ready for my cock?" Sukuna has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning when you work up the courage to glance over your shoulder at him, your hair is dishevelled from his earlier ministrations.
You nod, and it earns you a slap against your ass cheek. "Words, or you get nothing at all."
"Please, 'm ready." Your moan tapers off your words at the end, his fingers hooking upwards. "Need you."
Sukuna wouldn't deny you—or himself any further. His fingers withdraw with a squelch, the sight of you clenching around nothing finally does pull a groan from his throat. His cock is hot and heavy in his hand, the pre-cum that pearls at his tip glistens in the low light. He presses it against your puckered hole, thrusting his hips shallowly without entering you—he can see the visible agony it's causing you to not have him fuck you yet.
You've tucked yourself back against Yuuji's pec, your lips parted and drooling against him with a fucked out look on your face. With each slap of his cockhead against your rim, you jolt in pleasure and in turn, it's causing Yuuji to dig his fingers deeper into the fat of your hips and thrust up into your drooling cunt.
"If you don't—" Yuuji huffs, jaw working hard to grit his teeth and push through the urge to flood your insides. He shoots a heated glare over your head, the golden retriever no longer present and replaced with an impatient lust-driven mutt. It makes Sukuna snicker.
But he finally does take pity on the both of you, his cock presses into your ass slowly. Careful to not rush you through it, even if you push back against him. His fingers press against your ass, spreading you wide so he could watch your greedy hole suck him in until he's seated deep against your ass.
Yuuji lets out the most sinful of moans, his cock twitching harsh inside of your fluttering walls. Your own mouth is open in a silent scream, eyes shuttering with the sensation of being double stuffed. It's a feeling like none other, your ass alone was tight already but to be stuffed in both holes—it was nearly impossible to move.
Nearly.
It's Sukuna who moves first, setting a pace that Yuuji can counter with each thrust of his hips. One in, one out. Never empty. Your fingers curl into Yuuji's shoulders, your arms hooked beneath his whilst his arms wrap around you tightly to hold you snuggly to his chest like a lover would.
The pace quickens soon enough, encouraged by the subtle shift of your hips to meet Sukuna for each of his thrusts. His hands slip to grab ahold of your waist, large fingers digging into the dips there before he really sets a bruising pace. It has sweating beading along his hairline, eyes locked downwards to watch the way your ass takes him so well.
His lips part and the warmth of the spit against your ass has you moaning like a common whore into the skin of Yuuji's neck. You migrated there at some point, unable to keep still when someone slipped their fingers downwards to toy with your swollen clit.
"Fuck, who knew our little angel was such a whore." Sukuna hums his words, biting again on his bottom lip when the rich timbre of his voice has you squeezing unrelentingly around both lengths buried inside of you.
Yuuji rests his chin against the side of your head, his eyes half-lidded and peering along the length of your back to watch Sukuna fuck you. It would be easy to lose sense of who was who, but it was Yuuji holding you through it all, Yuuji who was rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your shoulders when his thrusts got more erratic; more demanding.
"Gonna let us cum in you, hm?" Surprisingly it's Yuuji who asks, his voice breathy when he settles his hips for a moment to feel you pulse and writhe against the pace Sukuna has set. "Please baby, let me cum in your sweet pussy."
"Please," you huff your words, working your hands out of the ironhold you had on Yuuji's upper body to slide your hands downwards. Your rewarding groan from Sukuna is worth the strain on your shoulders when you hold your cheeks spread, an open invitation for what you want. "Both of you—need you to cum inside."
They fuck you in earnest, bouncing and thrusting you between both of their cocks so seamlessly. It has your lips parting and teeth sinking into the tense muscle of Yuuji's neck, he near whimpers at the feeling of your teeth latching against him. His hips are the first to stutter, the fingers he pushed between your sandwiched bodies to roll your clit in smooth circles picks up in effort.
You groan against his skin, partially muffled by the way you refuse to let go of his skin until finally—you burst. Your orgasm comes sharp and fast, a coil that snaps and whips until you're arching your back painfully. Sukuna pushes down on your back, deepening that arch until he's fucking painfully into your ass.
Yuuji spills his load deep inside of you, fucking through the spurts and his eyes flutter closed at the sensation of you milking him for all he's worth. His fingers never give up on rubbing against your clit, not until he knows Sukuna has finished too.
Sukuna growls something under his breath, his hands clamping on your waist and he throws himself forward once, twice, three times. His cum is hot, thick and somehow a lot more than what Yuuji had spilt inside of you. It drips from around his length, the cock he's still fucking into you with each burst until he's spent.
Slowly, with a hand wrapped around the base of his softening cock, Sukuna pulls back until he's gifted with the sight of something he wishes he could engrain in his brain forever. You're twitching still around Yuuji's cock, a cock that's dripping in both his own cum, yours and the cum Yuuji had valiantly tried to fuck back into your womb.
Sukuna dips his fingers downwards, pushing his cum back into your ass to hear you whimper and groan against Yuuji. "Look at that." He hums more to himself.
Yuuji is completely lax beneath you, his hands rubbing soothing patterns up and down your back where you slowly deflate against his chest. But even Sukuna can see that Yuuji isn't quite finished, his cock still hard and buried deep inside of you—Sukuna smirks when he meets those light brown eyes over your shoulder.
The night was only young, and Sukuna had much more planned for you.
i didn’t think the sukuna fic would gain traction, but ig we’re all sukuna fuckers lowkey 🫣 so to everyone that keeps on requesting, i can write a part two, but no date when it’ll be posted yet since i have so much to catch up on sy first! so please keep an eye out <3
ps. the plot for blank canvas part two was an idea that my bf came up with, so don’t blame me if it’s extra angsty ! :p
Just Some Random
Thought In My Head @tinattk - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
