depress me daddy

you move your head to look at him with those big eyes and an innocent smile on your face, “i’m soooo hot, ‘kuna,” you pout before you start spreading your legs even more with a content sigh.

he clicks his tongue while he uses his elbows to prop himself up on the mattress next to your bare naked body, “doesn’t mean you should have your pussy on full display, woman.”

he’s only met with a judgmental side-eye and you continue to lay there unbothered as the fan blows cool wind, well— everywhere.

a surprising but delicious pain waves through your body as two thick fingers pinched your nipple before soothing the sore spot immediately after. “don’t give me attitude, ‘ya hear?” to which you can only nod all the while trying to suppress your smile.

sukuna sighs and sooner than later, he finds himself also laying bare next to you; balls out and soft. the cool wind starting to lull him back to sleep.

“can i hold it?

for fuck’s sake. “close your damn eyes and go to sleep, please,” your boyfriend’s voice cracked at the last part— silently hoping that you don’t notice the flush starting to bloom on his neck.

you stay quiet and rest your head on his bicep while the quietness consumes you both.

he knows how mean he can be sometimes, which he honestly tries to do less. so, who is he to deny his sweet precious girlfriend of what she currently wants in the moment.

his dick was starting to twitch anyway. might as well indulge in your…unique way of doing certain things?

And not the cute, fluffy kind the boy down gravel road had. 

A werewolf pup. Somewhere between human and wolf, caught between two different forms and completely, totally feral. With scraggly pink fur and searing red eyes, barking out a low growl at you as he struggled to get out of your trap. There was…something in there with him. A small animal you must’ve snagged before he tried to steal it, only tufts of brown and orange left of it and bits of bone. 

But when you looked back at his face, the shape of his quivering mouth and the way his eyes widened with pure panic, you couldn’t help but feel awful for him. He was even smaller than you, scrawny and starving, his fingers trembling as he fought to break free. 

“It’s okay,” you tried to soothe him, swallowing hard to quell your own fear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

You pulled out your knife, moving slowly to not scare him as you showed him the blade. From what you’d pieced together from your parents late-night hushed conversations over the town’s werewolf problem, they were intelligent. Had families too. Made their homes in caves rather than out of wood and stone. 

Was he your age? Maybe a year younger? 

Did he have parents out there waiting for him to return to them like yours were? 

“I’m just going to cut you free,” you half-whispered, careful to keep your tone even as you started to dismantle your own handiwork. 

You didn’t know if he could understand you. 

But his growling had turned into low huffs. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think he was impatient.

You worked faster, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you nervously stole glances back at the pup, hesitant to even think of him as a beast when he was so…scraggly? You’d always thought werewolves were vicious, too smart to get caught by a silly contraption like yours, strong enough to bust their way out of it if they did. 

“Okay, there you-” 

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence, the second he’d been released, that scraggly body of his was launching off the ground – and on top of you. Knocking you onto your back, all the air forced out of you as you let out a sharp gasp, trying to shove him off only to get the knife knocked out of your hand. 

And your wrists pinned by your head just a moment later, his claws digging into your skin as his iron grip bit into your bones. 

You were sobbing before he had even leaned in a little, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you squirmed and attempted to roll out from underneath him. “Pl-please don’t hurt me, I-I-” 

Blubbering like a baby, shaking your head desperately as fear struck a dagger of its own straight through your core, primal terror setting in as you began to sweat. Your whole face felt wet, your lip wobbling as you tried to stammer out another desperate plea for your life, as you realized what a moron you were for having pity for him. 

Starving dogs would always bite. 

He was growling, barring sharp teeth as his canines glinted in the afternoon light, ready to sink into your throat and tear it out. You had a momentary surge of strength at the thought you really might die, managing to almost wrestle free as you screamed for your family, one hand slipping out of his grasp only for him to lunge forward, his teeth sinking into your wrist to stop you as a flash of white hot pain shot up your arm and-

Stopped? 

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, squinting almost accusingly before the hurt morphed into a relaxing tingle, like your body was being bathed in warmth, shivering at the strange connection in his locked stare. All the apprehension disappearing, your anxieties melting as if you weren’t in danger, as if you weren’t surely seconds from death. 

And then he was letting go, recoiling away from you like he tasted something rotten, nose scrunched up before he started to sniff the air. 

Blood was dripping down your wrist, leaving red splotches on the plants beneath you as you scooted backwards, breathing hard and heavy as you debated on trying to make a run for it now, weighing the risk of if he’d pounce again. Feeling for where the knife landed, unable to bring yourself to break eye contact with him. 

His mouth opened again, not in a snarl this time, but before he could bark or speak, there was the rustle of branches behind you, your parents calling out your name with worry in their voices. You glanced over your shoulder, just for a moment, but by the time you looked back, he was gone. 

Disappeared deeper into the forest, into the safety of the thick brush. 

Leaving you with a wounded wrist and a funny flutter in your chest as you stumbled to your feet after grabbing the knife, stumbling back towards the sound of your parents shouting for you. 

You made it out of the woods with your life. 

A story that got you scolded for years to come too, not to mention a scar that made the townsfolk sneer at you for doing something so foolish. 

And a werewolf who just wouldn’t stop coming around. 

Although, it had taken you until your teenage years to figure out that you were being stalked by the creature you made the mistake of saving as a child. You found his fur on your family’s porch, tufts of pink left behind in the mornings your family never seemed to notice. Scratch marks etched against the walls, grooves left in the wood from claws that were meant for slicing through flesh. 

You caught glimpses of him. Sporadic at first, spread out between months and weeks. A flash of sharp teeth through the treeline. A phantom stare that seemed to constantly trail after you as you carefully kept your distance from the forest during the days while you tended to the farm. Hair pretty much perpetually raised on the back of your neck as you pretended you didn’t feel like you were being watched the second you walked outside. 

The livestock had stopped disappearing, at least. 

No more waking up to missing chickens or goats left with gashes strewn across the yard. 

Your parents thought that all the werewolves in the area had moved somewhere else. Retreated deeper into the woods or somehow all slaughtered each other, victim to their own instincts, their own aggression. 

You knew better. Kept waiting for the beast lurking and lingering around to…well, do something. 

Not just watch. 

You wondered if he was hoping for your guard to slip. If maybe he liked to play with his food before he scarfed it down. 

Every time you’d step foot into the forest, he would seemingly be there. One hand on a silver dagger, not that you thought it would be much use if he’d been able to pin you down back when you were still bigger than him, especially now that he had a massive frame that lumbered between the trees, too big to be stealthy if he tried. Yet, not a single other person had seen him. 

But you didn’t really have a choice. Someone had to collect herbs, had to get fresh water from the river, had to bring back branches and berries. 

And no one believed your stories of the pink werewolf who just stood there and stared without ever attacking. 

Everyone in town thought you were just a crybaby who called wolf. 

“Stop staring and hang those clothes up,” your mother huffed, an elbow digging into your side snapping you out of your daze. Daydreaming about a world where they all listened to you instead of ignoring every word that left your mouth. “The neighbor’s boy will be by soon.” 

Of course. 

You wouldn’t be their problem much longer anyway. 

Soon you’d be married off, sent to be the bride of the farmer’s eldest son next door. Most people married their daughters off the second they came of age, became adults who were too much of a burden to keep around, but your reputation had bought you a couple extra years. 

No one wanted to wed a woman who weeped about creatures the rest of the folk were desperate to forget about. 

Except for the boy with the bad temper you whispered to through the fence. 

You had only started speaking to him a handful of months ago, back when you were hanging the sheets on the line and overheard a rustling sound through the rotting wooden planks separating your family’s land from the neighbor’s. 

“Hello?” You called out, glancing over your shoulder anxiously, picturing a mass of pink on the other side. Considering the chance that you had gone crazy, cringing as you realized your paranoid mind might just be playing a trick on you. “Is someone-”

“Hello?” A man’s voice had echoed yours, equally uncertain. It came out all gruff, like someone was dragging a wooden rake over gravel, a rough rumble to it you automatically liked. 

He didn’t try to sound smooth or honeyed. No pretending, nothing pretty or pompous. 

And more important than anything else, real. 

“Oh, um, my apologies,” you awkwardly cleared your throat, not sure what to say to him, belatedly realizing it had to be the boy your parents kept bringing up as a potential marriage prospect for you. “I just heard a noise and-” 

“Did I scare you?” 

“A little,” you admitted, laughing it off as you stared at the wood blocking him from your sight. “There’s a werewolf that roams around here.” 

You waited for him to mock you for suggesting it. To dismiss your claim the same way everyone else did. 

“Oh?” 

He didn’t. 

You informed your mother that night you wouldn’t mind marrying him after all. 

And before long, you were confiding in him about everything. Sitting by the fence whether the weather was warm or cold, picking flowers while you poured out the years you’d spent looking over your shoulder, scared that you wouldn’t make it through another season. 

He never told you your suspicions were stupid. 

But he did tell you that if the werewolf hadn’t attacked you yet, there might be another reason it was there. Suggested one drizzly day that the object of your fear might actually be protecting you, that he could’ve scared off all the others that used to wreak havoc on your family’s farm. 

You had never considered it before him. 

But he made a point you were doing your best to talk yourself into believing. 

It had helped calm some of your nerves. Turn your nightmares into something more…managable. They weren’t scary anymore, just, well, strange. 

Your werewolf was still there. 

But your body no longer tensed with terror when he came close and crouched low. Your heart still thrummed, pounding against your chest as you reached out a hand, but the beast who occupied so much of your brain had begun to let you pet him in the scenes it conjured up. Stroking his surprisingly soft fur as his mouth parted to purr, sharp teeth hidden behind his curled-up lips. 

You had told your future fiancé about it, excitedly recounting the details as he gruffly hummed along. You asked about his dreams too, tried to return the favor he’d done you by easing your fears by getting to know him.  

But he avoided that altogether, always redirecting the conversation back to your day. What you had for breakfast or what chores your family would be making you do later. 

He didn’t flirt, never made any kind of crude suggestions of sneaking over the fence to spend the night — despite the rather unsavory reputation you heard he had around your village. 

When you got close, your knees pressed to your chest while you rested your cheek against the wood, sometimes you could almost swear you felt some invisible string tying you to him. A natural pull you had a hard time resisting, reluctant to ever end the conversation or step away when your heart wanted to plant itself on the spot. Fingers itching to pry apart the boards so you could see his face, touch his skin. 

You told yourself that it was a pretty fantasy.

Something your mind was weaving to keep yourself from actually going crazy from sheer loneliness. 

Despite all of your stolen conversations, the minutes you snuck away to speak to him, you had never met him in person.

Until today. 

You hurried to hang the clothes per your mother’s request, hands trembling as you worked and your head snapping over your shoulders as you hoped to hear his voice. 

“Are you there?” You called out, aware that you’d look as crazy as everyone said you were if you got caught. It was a miracle in itself that you hadn’t before now. 

But you didn’t get a reply. 

Brief disappointment burned through you, but you shut it down. 

Ignored the way it stung as you finished up, casting a wistful look back before returning to the house, stepping over trampled wild flowers and dying grass until you were climbing back up the stairs to your porch. 

Your head hanging low, mulling over what you’d actually say when you got to see him. 

“Ahem,” your mother cleared her throat, and your stare snapped up to find her waiting for you with-

Oh. 

Your shallow disappointment immediately deepened into a lake you could drown you. 

“Hi,” you breathed, struggling not to let your dismay show for the man in front of you. He wasn’t awful looking. No, he was attractive, you guessed, in his own way. 

But he didn’t fit what you had in your head. He was too…clean? Normal? 

His eyes weren’t filled with the warmth you dreamed they’d have. They were cold. Slipping over your frame cautiously, as if he was calculating what he should make of you. 

You didn’t feel that tug towards him, no spark or gravity drawing you in. You didn’t feel anything for him. 

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” he greeted, nodding as his stare dipped from your face to your chest. 

He didn’t even sound the same either. 

Could a piece of wood really change the quality of his voice that much? 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” your mother chirped, disappearing back inside like she wouldn’t be watching through the window. 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t know me,” you said once you were sure she at least wasn’t eavesdropping. Telling yourself that you were surely just overthinking everything, trying to claw back some comfort in your one safe person. “Speaking to you has often been the highlight of my days these last few months.” 

He looked at you incredulously, mouth curling up in a sneer you’d seen so many times before. 

It was the one you usually got in the market from the townsfolk who thought you were mad. 

The delusional farmer’s daughter. 

“We’ve never spoken before.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

Would you be mad at him for murdering your fiancé? 

Sukuna mused on how hard it would be to catch that imbecile off-guard and slice through his throat as the idiot scoffed and sneered at you. 

He always knew it was a matter of time before you figured out your future groom wasn’t the man on the other side of the fence. 

But he thought he had a little more time. 

To warm you up a little more on the whole werewolf thing. 

He heard the fear in your voice when you first talked about the pink beast stalking you through the woods without realizing it was the creature you were so terrified of that you were crying to. 

It wasn’t like he wanted you to think he was a fucking creep. 

But the longer he stayed away, the harder he fought and resisted the bond tying you to him, the more of a monster he became. Slowly becoming more animalistic, giving into the primal parts of him, pain scorching through every muscle and limb and threatening to melt his mind when he strayed too far from your side. 

Werewolves needed their mates. 

And you were his. 

Bonded from the moment he bit you, his heart claimed to only beat for you from that day forward. Most werewolves had packs to keep them sane. Families they counted on to maintain their control on the monstrous parts of them that would go unchecked without that connection.

He had been an orphan. An abandoned pup who figured out how to survive on his own. 

Lone werewolves, the ones like him, eventually became more wolf than man if they never found their other half to hold onto. Too aggressive to ever come close to someone that could tame them. 

Sukuna had learned to make due with what he had. 

You’d gotten good at avoiding him, running from him the second you caught so much as a glimpse, which honestly, was rather rude if you asked him. 

Forced to creep up to your house at night, prowling around your porch to protect your farm from any other predators that might come sniffing around. Sleeping beneath your window at night just so he could stave off transforming into more of a beast, telling himself that he wasn’t being weird as long as he didn’t peek through to watch you dream and drift off in your bed. 

He only ended up talking to you through the fence out of impulse. 

Creeping along the other side of it to stay close to you and keep his instincts at bay, knowing those morons next door barely tended to their fields enough to notice him even during the day, caught off guard by the sound of your pretty voice calling out to him. 

A single conversation was enough to have him hooked though. 

And he was nothing if not addicted to the tiniest tidbits of your attention. 

Desperate to feel the faintest warmth of your affection.

Sometimes, he was tempted to burst through the rotting wood, rip the whole fence down until he was face-to-face with you, shake your shoulders and beg you to see that it was him, that every part of him belonged to you. 

Humans didn’t feel the bond the same way werewolves did, but he wanted to believe you could sense it too. 

You had kept coming back. 

And now you were standing on your front porch, frozen with a different type of fear that he could feel from here. 

Your emotions seeping into his, curdling with his own shame for screwing everything up with you from the start. 

He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he could tell you were stammering, your lips quivering just for the man in front of you to laugh. Reaching out to pat your head condescendingly before jutting a thumb back towards his own property. 

Sukuna was silently begging you to shake your head. 

To keep your feet firmly planted on your porch. 

You were too soft. Too trusting. 

The sort of girl that set him free. Let a wild wolf pup loose with no regard for your own safety. And apparently you never learned your lesson judging by the way you began following that fool back to his house. 

Clueless that his own family had conveniently left it empty for him to have his way with his future bride. 

Sukuna had listened to your complaints about the way you were treated by everyone else. How no one else ever seemed to see what you did. No one else cared to believe you when it was more convenient not to. 

You had trusted him. 

And now you were putting this faith in that man because he hadn’t told you the truth? 

Sukuna knew what would happen if he let you go inside with him, snarling as his claws started to grow, the bones in his fists cracking and popping as they formed a fist, creeping just deep enough to not be spotted as he trailed after the two of you until you crossed over onto his property. 

He kept hoping you’d turn around. Tell him that you weren’t sure this was a good idea. 

But you didn’t. 

Even if the look on your face was nothing short of sharp discomfort as you walked up a winding path to his house. 

Shit.

Sukuna was really going to scare you this time, wasn’t he? 

But he wasn’t just going to let you stay there alone with an even bigger predator. 

One who wouldn’t hesitate to bruise your skin or make you bleed for his own pleasure. 

He stepped out, his canines barred as his chest quickly began to rise and fall with heavy breaths, aware that there really might be no going back from this as he waited for just one of you to look back. But no, that asshole just slid his hand down the small of your back, attempting to grope your ass through your dress and ignoring the way you were recoiling from him as you tried to politely brush his arm off. 

Rage ripped through him in one hot burst, spilling over and souring any chance of his sanity winning out. Only half-monster this time, pink fur sticking out across his back as he lumbered forward. He didn’t have a real plan. Or any plan. 

Just the deep-seeded instinct to protect you at any cost. To not let another man lay a finger on you.  

Your husband-to-be never saw him coming. 

Blood splattering across the grass as he hit the ground from just a shallow scratch, whining in pain like a baby before Sukuna delivered a swift kick to his skull. 

It wasn’t particularly powerful, but he supposed humans really were just that much weaker given how fast it seemed to knock him out. 

“Sorry,” he growled, glancing over to you, expecting you to scream at any second, give him away. But you were stuck in place, those big eyes that had haunted him in his memory for so long finally locked onto his. More tears welling up in them, your shoulders shivering as the explanation on his tongue died. 

Your hand reflexively reached for your wrist, the scarred skin there still raised from where he’d clamped down on it as a child, and he flinched, guilt curdling in his stomach. 

He hated that he hurt you. Hated that he was terrifying you now. 

The bond burned, being so goddamn close to you, able to feel all your fear, all your messy emotions tangled and twisted together, your heart racing so fast he could hear the wild thumps as he tried to force his body to revert back to his most human form. 

“He was going to hurt you,” Sukuna defended himself with a low growl, kicking his limp body on the ground for a second time, like it would make himself feel better. A man like that would only waste your life. Force you to work the fields for him, bear his children and still pretend you were the burden. 

You blinked, sucking in a broken breath as you stared at him. The terror that had been radiating off of you fading faster than he expected as your pretty lips parted, as if you pieced together the rest of who he was on your own. 

“You’re-” You started, unable to finish the sentence. 

“I’m protecting you,” he grunted, before you could come to any other conclusion. 

You’d given him this life. He was devoting it back to you. 

“Why would you do that?” You whispered, unsure of whether or not to stay or sprint as far from him as you could. Your stare quickly shifted back to the body on the ground, biting your lip when you realized he was, unfortunately, still breathing. 

“You’re my mate.” 

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

The werewolf you’d spent well over a decade running from had declared you were his mate – and the man you thought you’d marry was bleeding in the grass. 

Great. 

You were blinking back tears, torn between twisting away and taking a step closer. Your blurred vision started to clear as you hastily wiped away the damp streak from your cheeks, starting to see the werewolf in front of you as what he might have been this whole time. 

Your protector. 

Were you a moron that misread everything? 

Maybe. 

Or were you once again a fool about to fall for his trap? 

He’d done it to you before, hadn’t he? 

A small voice in your head suggested that you were thinking about it wrong. You had set him free. And now he was repaying that favor by saving you from spending the rest of your years chained to a stranger.

“What did you mean about him hurting me?” You tentatively asked, jaw tensing as you stole another peek at the man bleeding onto the already dead grass. 

“You’re not that naive,” he scoffed, his mouth twitching when he looked too like he was tempted to kick him a third time. 

Your mouth pressed together in a thin line, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you replayed the way he tried to grab you despite how derisively he laughed at you before. How he commented that he didn’t really care if you were crazy before glancing down at your cleavage. 

But you had still walked with him anyway, starting to think that maybe you were losing it, that you were simply so lonely, you’d made up all those long conversations. Convinced that some jerk who just wanted you for your body was the best you’d be able to get. 

“So it was you? This whole time?” You asked, trying to make the pieces fit together in your mind as you pictured him on the other side of that fence. Listening to you complain about him. “You never said-” 

“Can you blame me?” He grunted, shrugging his massive shoulders up like it didn’t bother him.

“I called you a creep, like, a thousand times,” you pointed out, bottom lip quivering as you found yourself teetering on the verge of an apology you couldn’t decide if he deserved or not. 

“Yeah,” he grimaced. “If I stay too far away from you, it’s hard to stay human.” 

Your heart lurched. 

Eyes lingering over him as you realized that he could almost pass for human. 

Disarmed by how different he looked up close. His broad chest outlined with defined muscles, bulky and thick with scars and markings crisscrossed and etched deep into his tanned skin. There were sparse spots of fur that appeared to almost…shrink the longer he stood in front of you. 

And not a scrap of clothing to cover his rather large cock. 

You’d never seen one in person before. But you had overheard some of the girls gossiping about the men they were seeing in the market, comparing sizes to fruits and giggling about how they rarely seemed to make good use of them. 

Were werewolves just more well endowed? 

Heat coiled in your stomach, more enthralled than you should be as you got distracted by the shape of it, the way it curved a little to the left, a thick vein running along the side of it as your breath got stuck in your throat. 

His tail wagged behind him as he stepped closer, something irritatingly familiar inside you instinctively aching to move towards him too. 

That invisible string pulling tight, tensing up at the proximity of his presence, trying to draw you into his space as you felt what little resolve you had to resist him crumbling by the second. 

You didn’t want to stay here. 

Didn’t want to spend your life as the wife to an asshole or be the disappointment of a daughter your family treated you like. 

You were already an outsider in your own village. 

Why not give being a werewolf’s mate a try? 

It wasn’t like your situation could get much worse. 

“So,” you started, clearing your throat as you dragged your stare back up to his face. “What now?” 

“Would you run away with me?” 

In a strange way, his serious grumble felt romantic, his hand outstretched and all those sharp claws retracted waiting for yours as his red eyes pried apart and pierced through your soul. 

Somewhere deep inside you, you knew that you were never going to say no. 

That your path was always going to wind back to him one way or another the moment you slid your palm into his. 

Still, you kind of thought he’d be taking you back to some poorly-constructed hut in the forest made out of twigs and branches – not an actual cottage of his own. 

Buried deep within a twisted grove of trees tightly-spaced, tucked away far enough you doubted any hunters or folk from your village would ever discover it on their own. 

It was old, vines sprawling over the walls, the thatched roof freshly-repaired as he pulled you through the front door. The inside was nice, a little small, but comfortable. Furniture mix-matched, most of it either roughly handcrafted or well, stolen, you supposed. 

“This is yours?” You asked, stepping inside as he shut the wooden door behind both of you. Slipping off your shoes, not sure if that was considered polite or not in werewolf culture. 

“Uh-huh,” he wryly nodded, not even glancing around when his gaze was focused solely on you. Looking at you sort of like you might be his next meal. “

“And I’m your mate?” You continued, mostly just wanting to hear him say it again. Confirm whatever this funny feeling inside you was. The connection that seemed to just intensify with each passing breath, each step he took closer. 

“You’re mine,” he murmured, bridging the distance in just two long strides. He didn’t touch you. Not yet. Just let his calloused palm hover above your cheek like he was considering it – and using every ounce of his restraint not to cave in and caress you. “And I’m yours.” 

“Do you want to be?” You swallowed hard, finding it hard to hold yourself back too. To not feel how firm his chest was, to not skim your fingers over his defined jaw. “Or is it just part of your werewolf-” 

“I want to be,” he shook his head, like he didn’t even want you to entertain any other idea. “I want you. I think I’d want you even if we weren’t bonded.” 

Enough to sit there and resist the bond between you for months while you whined and whispered about your boring life. 

Enough to stop you from being sent off in an arranged marriage. 

You got up on your tiptoes, letting your fingertips ghost over his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his in a timid kiss.

It was meant to be soft and slow. 

But the second your mouth connected with his, it was like someone had set your skin on fire. Pleasure you hadn’t planned on racing through your limbs, across your body in one massive rush. Shuddering at how sensitive everything abruptly was, abruptly aware of the breeze in the air, the pressure of his hand as he grabbed your waist and pressed your body up against his. 

As if it hurt for there to even be an inch between his chest and yours. 

His tongue danced across your bottom lip, asking for entry you quickly granted, exploring your mouth with a flattering fervor. 

Your thighs were already pressing together, warmth pooling as your walls clenched around nothing. But in between the heat, you felt a funny throb starting to build, begging for attention. 

“W-what’s your name?” You asked, belatedly realizing you still didn’t know it. 

“Sukuna,” he muttered, fingers sliding around to splay possessively over your spine, his steps guiding you back as he kissed you again. 

His tongue slipped back in your mouth as his hand travelled over the rough fabric of your dress, pausing to tch at how it rubbed against your skin. 

Sukuna was quick to pull it up over your head, throwing it down on the creaky wooden floorboards as he pushed open the door to his bedroom. 

You had a brief flash of contemplation, wondering whether or not you were really about to offer your virtue up to the beast that had been haunting you for well over half your life. 

But then you gave him another onceover, felt that fierce tingle travelling straight to your core, and you were committing to the animal inside you too. 

He pinned you to his bed in a flash, although it looked more like a nest. A few of your clothing items, shawls and dresses that had gone missing over the last couple years you assumed your mother had thrown out were all bundled up on the surface along with a tattered blanket, the warmth of his own scent mixed with your sweeter one striking you the second your back hit the thin mattress. 

“Are those-” Your voice died in your throat at how alarmingly cute the sheepish expression that crossed his face was. 

“I’m sorry,” he begrudgingly grunted an apology, jaw tense as he paused on top of you, his hands on either side of your head, hesitating like you might slip out and make a break for it. 

“What else did you steal?” You tried to tease, fingers loosely running over your old shawl close by.

“Nothing,” he grunted, not particularly believable as your lips curled up in a smile. 

Was it morally questionable? 

Yes, but when you’d wasted so long thinking that no one would ever like you, finding a man obsessed with you was too intoxicating for you to second guess it. 

You leaned forward and kissed him again, trying to match the frenzy behind his lips, a fever of your own starting to make all your thoughts feel loose, fuzzy. 

Limbs relaxing as your cunt started to ache, your fingers brushing through his soft hair, feeling his furry ears as his tail thwomped against the bed fast. 

His cock was digging into your thigh, throbbing and twitching with every little move you made. 

“You smell so fucking good,” he groaned, moving down to leave a messy trail of kisses down your jaw, over your throat as he began to sniff you. 

Sucking in deep inhales, grunting as he ran his tongue in sloppy circles over your nipples, lapping over your exposed skin with no real rhyme or reason. Skimming his teeth over the sensitive peaks, letting out lewd noises like he was the one being driven mad with his mouth. 

Nipping at you lightly, travelling lower until he was hovering over your pussy. 

“Jus’ need a taste,” he breathed, and before you could even fully spread your legs for him, his tongue was pushing inside you. 

It felt like he was trying to devour you. 

Lick up every single drop, dragging his tongue against your walls in messy strokes, dipping in-and-out at a mind-melting pace. 

Nails clawing at anything on his bed for grip, gasping for air as he lifted your hips off the bed so he could dive even deeper. 

None of the girls had ever talked about this. 

His thick digits were digging deep into your thighs, keeping you there as he worked his tongue in and swirled it with a devotion you were struggling to handle. 

You were losing it. 

Unravelling at a rate you never expected, wiggling and whimpering at how good it felt. How right it was to run your fingers through his soft strands. 

And despite it all, you were still greedy for more. 

Aching for him to stuff you with something bigger than his tongue. 

“P-please take me,” you whined, ruffling his hair as you peered down at his position between your soft thighs. 

His dark eyes widened, pupils completely blown, just a thin ring of red left as he processed what you had said. 

You didn’t take it back. 

Lips parted as you sucked in a shallow breath, silently daring him to do it. 

Before you blinked again, your thighs were being pressed up against your chest, squished and squeezed as he lined his leaking length up against your entrance. 

“Yeah?” He huffed, eyes narrowing as he saw the sweat starting to drip down your forehead, the way your thighs tensed and trembled before he even slid in. “You want me too?” “I do,” you nodded, feeling almost like you were making a vow you wouldn’t be able to take back as he pushed the first few inches in.

The pressure seared. 

Your stomach twisting into knots as your walls desperately squeezed down around him. He had to go slow, not desperately rutting or shoving, just slowly sliding into your warmth, his saliva and your slick making it easier for him to enter. 

“You’ve been keeping this from me this long?” He asked, his voice raw and reverberating through you as you found yourself looping your wrists around his neck. Thick tendons straining and flexing as he unclenched his jaw, your thighs straining from the way his fingers dug into your supple flesh. 

“I thought you were going to eat me,” you argued, pouting as he tilted his head back, using every ounce of his focus when his cock slipped in deeper, starting to rub against all those sensitive spots you had a hard time reaching yourself. 

Your own hand was nothing compared to him. 

“I might,” he chuckled, low and gritty. 

Tension thrumming thick in the air as you looked down and realized he still hadn’t bottomed out, your lips parting as you stared at the connection between your bodies. 

That intoxicating tingle you’d felt when he kissed you back had returned, your body squeezing and clenching and…changing? 

It finally struck you what was happening. 

His cock was literally molding you around him. 

The bond working its weird werewolf magic to make sure you’d be able to accommodate him not just comfortably, but pleasurably. So you wouldn’t be in pain as he pushed you to your limits. 

“Is this normal?” You gasped, not sure if you should be grateful or freaked out as he slipped another thick inch in. 

“You’re my first,” he shrugged, the lump in his throat bobbing like he was currently too preoccupied just by the way you were wrapped around him to think straight. 

“And werewolves don’t have multiple mates?” You questioned, lips pursed as you felt his cock prod that soft, spongy place in the back, your back arching up off the bed just for him to press you right back down. 

“You can’t be serious right now,” he froze, his cock twitching in time with his mouth. 

“I’m just asking,” you frowned, but he was quick to fuck your pout off, pounding back into you as you saw something in his face shift. 

Crack. 

Coming undone as he struggled to slow down once he started, his pace just picking up as he kissed you to wipe away your silly assumptions. 

“You’re it for me, got it?” He grunted, the taste of you on his tongue as he kissed you again. 

How were you supposed to not fall for that? 

Not turn to putty for him to play with when his calloused hand slipped down the inside of your thigh, the tantalizing tips of his claws lightly tracing over your skin to tease you. Swirling the tip of his fingers over your clit, toying with the bud there too as he ruthlessly rutted into you like an animal in heat. 

Was that all the two of you were now? 

“M’sorry,” he moaned, his mouth right next to yours as you sucked in a broken breath. “I can’t hold back.” 

“You don’t have to,” you whispered back, your voice all airy, half a pitch too high right as he rolled his hips forward, forcing the last few inches in. Your eyes rolled back in response, a whimper ripped from the back of your throat. 

Perhaps you should’ve asked Sukuna to reign it in a little. 

Because moments later, the base of his cock that already barely fit started to get bigger. 

He was knotting you. 

And somewhere in your lust-addled head, you liked it. A primal voice in the back of your brain begging to be bred. 

For him to fill you up and never let you go. 

“It’s-” You started, struggling to get any coherent words out when it didn’t feel like you had any room left in you for anything.

“Too much?” He grunted, starting to slip back out, to release you before it was too late. 

But you pulled at his hair, squeezing your thighs and sorta wishing they were wrapped around his waist instead to stop him. 

“No,” you spat out, straining to shake your head as he stalled there. “I need it.” 

You needed him. 

The idea of being apart, separated just a little suddenly seemed hellish, like it would be sheer torment to not feel the full force of him lodged inside of you. 

His knot stretched you out, your nails raking mean scratches down his massive back as the base of his cock continued to swell. Unable to so much as squirm, stuck in place as he split you open on his thick length. 

And truly? You wouldn’t trade him for any farmer’s son. 

Wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than here, in this cozy cottage being fucked stupid by a werewolf. 

He might be a beast, but at least he was wholly yours. 

His fingers returned to rubbing soothing circles over your swollen bud, coaxing you towards a climax as he staved off his own. Lips leaving kiss after kiss across your face, your thighs still held against your chest by his weight alone, folded and straining as he fit all of him inside of you. 

“You don’t know how crazy you make me,” he growled into your throat, and you were starting to think you had an idea. 

Infected with his intensity, itching for release as he dragged you to higher and higher peaks of pleasure. 

Sukuna rocked into you hard and fast, those pointy teeth sinking just above your collarbone to claim you, hard enough that you were sure you’d bleed, but it just heightened the bliss still burning beneath your skin. Unlatching just to drag his tongue over it in warm licks, his sniffing not stopping even as he sucked and kissed the sore spot better. 

“Make me wanna put pups in you,” he continued, half-delirious and drunk on you alone as his hips smacked rudely into your skin. 

“Do it then,” you half-whispered, so close yourself as his thumb pressed down delectably over your clit, the thin string in the pit of your stomach holding you together ready to snap right there with him. 

Sukuna’s head snapped up to you for just a second, the fading light of the day casting shadows across his face as he let out a ragged little laugh like you didn’t know what you were requesting of him. 

He looked softer somehow, shoulders more relaxed, his thrusts slowing as he stared, becoming more steady as you felt blinding need warping what little sense of reason you had remaining. 

You were digging at his shoulder blades, thighs trembling as you leaned up to kiss his throat this time, craving even more of him. Tearing at his skin as you started sucking on his collarbone, leaving lovebites that made him grit his teeth and groan your name while he fought the parts of him that made him so different from you to start with. 

“I’m gonna cum, fuck,” he hissed, barely holding on as you nodded along.

His fingers roughly massaged into you faster, to make sure you came right as he did, your body shaking as you broke down for him, pretty little stars splashing across your vision as you scrunched your eyes shut and probably left a fresh set of scratches across his skin, feeling him shudder and shake on top of you as he called out your name again. 

You let out your moan, something that was supposed to sound like Sukuna but just came out strangled, too stuffed to really care about anything other than the size of him still filling you up so entirely. 

Unable to move back or forward, feeling something wet on your face as the scent of sweat and sex and something sweet invaded your senses. 

You let go of his shoulder blades, blinking a few times as you went to rest your arms over your head instead – just for him to snag your wrist and flip it around to examine the scar his old bite had left there.

“I guess I’m your problem forever now, hm?” You asked, the bond between you feeling a little less like a thin string and more like a heavy chain tying you to him. 

Unbreakable. 

“You’re not a problem,” he wryly muttered, not quite as amused as he tenderly dragged his thumb over the marred skin. “Just a brat.” 

Like he wasn’t the one whose cum was plugged up inside you thanks to his still-throbbing knot. Keeping him locked in place as you blinked up at him with damp eyes, tears of pleasure streaked down your cheeks this time.

Sukuna cleared his throat, his pretty jaw tensing as he stared down at the narrow space between your bodies.  

“So, uh, how do you feel about werepups?”

meanwhile reader’s fiancé