Lemon

“God– what is it now?” She groans. 

“I really need you to quit stomping around so much in the morning– I can’t fucking take it anymore.” 

“Seriously?” She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “This is what you came to me for?”

“Yes! This is insane. Not even the last tenant before you made this much noise!”

“Well get over it,” She responds rudely. “You’re not the only one who pays to live here.”

And with that, she slams the door in your face. You can hear her mumbling something on the other side of the door, and you’re pretty sure she called you a bitch. 

What you didn’t see was her walking up to the small altar in the corner of her living room, picking up one of the older books that’s been passed down to her. And by old, that thing’s ancient. Pages and pages filled with spells written in latin, along with extra notes scribbled in them that were just as faded and the original print itself. 

“I’ll give you something to complain about.”

Except, for as talented as she is, she’s still a baby witch, and the chill that ran down her spine immediately after doing her spell made her realize she had no idea what she had sent you. 

—

You’ve been running for hours. Out of breath. Legs heavy. No matter how fast or how far you think you’ve gotten from him, he’s constantly 2 steps behind you. 

What's worse is you just know he would’ve caught you already if he wanted. But what he truly wants is this— watching you run. 

It’s in that cruel, menacing laugh of his, hearing the pure enjoyment rumbling out of him as he watches you scream and cry for your life— trying so damn hard to lose him. Yet in the end, he always ends up right in your ear.

“Got you.”

It’s been weeks since the night terrors have started. Every morning’s the same, waking up terrified and drenched in your own sweat, accompanied by the irritating noise of Nishimiya’s footsteps. Except now you’re too busy feeling unsettled in the mornings to even care about them. 

Life’s been off. The apartment’s been colder. Quieter. Nothing helps. Not even opening all the windows and balcony doors to let some fresh air in gets rid of the dread that manages to cling to each and every corner of your space.

Something watches you. 

You’re not the superstitious kind, but you can just feel something’s there. Looming over you. Following you. Messing with you. One minute you're tearing apart your living room, trying to look for the T.V remote, the next you’re opening one of your cabinets to find it placed dead center on a stack of plates. 

You walk away from the microwave to go do something, and when you come back, it’s paused, even though you know you hit start. You even watched it the first 30 seconds of warming up.

Ignoring it didn’t work. All that did was escalate things. It went from chasing you in your dreams to pining you to your bed, murmuring the craziest shit in the shell of your ear. 

“Did you miss me, Princess?”

“Do you really think pretending I’m not here will make me go away?”

“Come on, just talk to me— I don’t bite.”

“Wow. Not even a ‘leave me alone’ or ‘fuck you’. How about this, give me 5 minutes and I’ll tell you where I hid your favorite panties.”

You’re ashamed to say that last one is what broke your silent streak. 

Over the next few weeks, you learn some things about him. He is in fact a demon— something he actually got incredibly offended at, by the way. 

He preferred the term incubus. 

He also dislikes being called a sex demon, something you called him because you wanted to offend him some more, thinking maybe that would make him leave. 

It didn’t. He just gave you another night terror. One that had an extra kick to it— making you swim from him in the murkiest water you’ve ever seen, instead of the usual drill, chasing you through the woods. 

He thought it was hilarious. 

You never called him that again.

Unfortunately, being a literal demon isn’t the worst part about him. It’s the fact that he never shuts up. He goes back and forth between flirting with you and ragebaiting you, all fucking day. You’ve tried to get rid of him. You’ve even gone back to Nishimiya and begged her to remove whatever she put on you. 

At first she denied summoning him, acting like she didn’t know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until a moment of weakness, when you genuinely broke down in front of her, did she attempt to cut whatever string it was that tied him to you. 

Except it wasn’t a string that tied him to you, it was more like a chain with how he threatened to curse her entire family for eternity if she went through with it. 

Now she won’t even look at you, let alone speak to you. The stomping even came to an end, and you wish you could be happy about it, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when it traded itself for another problem that was substantially worse..

You never knew what it felt like to feel truly defeated until that day. It wasn’t even Nishimiya who told you that the deal was off. It was him. Laughing in your room at 1:00 am, telling you how you should’ve just made a deal with him. 

That was a hard pass. You’ve never even seen him. It didn’t even make sense, you were trying to get rid of him, not get more involved.

It wasn’t just your day that was ruined, it was your entire week. Work did a number on you, which just added to all of the problems you already had from your apartment. The weekend went by way too short, the following Monday went by way too long, and by the time you got home, you wanted to scream out into the world until your lungs ruptured. 

Your final straw was finding the remote in the kitchen cabinet. 

Again.

“It’s a remote. Why are you so obsessed with it?!” you snapped at literally nobody, because the thing you had a problem with wasn’t even visible.

You didn’t bother putting the remote back where it belonged. You threw it at the couch, and ended up getting mad that it didn’t slip out of your hand mid throw, hit the wall, and break into a million pieces. The deep breath you took before walking back to the kitchen didn’t help your mood at all either. 

Had it been a good day, you definitely would’ve been terrified of the reflection you saw on the glassdoor of your microwave. 

But on a bad day…

“Oh for fucks sake— what is the point in hiding if you’re just gonna stand there and wait for me to catch you?! You want to be seen so bad!! Just fucking show yourself already!”

The change in the air was instant. You found yourself instantly regretting blowing up on the ominous shadow figure that tormented you for a living. But, you made your bed, so you stayed and faced whatever was lingering in the room.

It wasn’t as startling as you thought it’d be. He slowly materialized into the room until he was solid, like everything else around him. The only thing that was unnerving about it was having a complete stranger in your home.

“Happy?” he asks, as if he were fed up with your shit. 

You don’t answer at first. You couldn’t. And it’s not like you’re scared, you’re just… shocked. In your head, he was some disgusting, slimy monster with shark teeth— he’s not. He’s tall and nothing but pure muscle, covered in thick tattoos. Pink hair, striking red eyes, and god, his face. You stared at it for longer than you should have. 

“...I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself,” you end up saying, silently kicking yourself for how apologetic you sounded.

“So you just blurt out a bunch of shit when you’re mad without thinking?” he condescendingly asks, before mouthing ‘wow’ to himself. 

“I– I’m in my house right now,” you sputter, in complete disbelief over how judgemental he is. “You shouldn’t even be here!”

“Good thing laws don’t apply to me,” he responds arrogantly, then changes the subject. “You should be more careful with what you invite to your space.”

“Last time I checked it was you who chose to start haunting me.”

“Last time I checked, it was blondie who summoned me.” He continued to argue with you as he made himself at home, taking a seat on the couch like he’s done a million times before.

“A fucking demon of all things,” you mumble to yourself, forgetting he didn’t like to be called that in the process. 

He gives you the side eye, but you’re too busy being pissed off at Nishimiya all over it to notice it, so he lets it slide. “It’s Sukuna, by the way.”

“What?”

“My name?” he responds as if you're stupid, clearly not too fond of repeating himself even though you don’t remember asking for it in the first place.

“Oh.”

“Mhm. You should say it,” he smirks.

You weren’t sure if it was some form of power play or if he was just some horny freak that loved hearing his own name. Either way, you don’t say his name for him.

“So remind me again why you won’t let Bigfoot undo her little spell,” you cut to chase, not bothering to explain who that is. He should already know who she is by now given how much you’ve complained about her by yourself. “What are you even getting out of this?” 

“Entertainment,” he casually says with a shrug. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I love watching people have breakdowns after work.” The little dig earns him a glare. “Also, Bigfoot’s not strong enough to reverse the spell she did. Only reason she was able to summon me was because I let her,” he mentions, clearly looking to continue the conversation.

You find yourself processing that for longer than you should, wondering if you even heard him correctly. “Can I ask why you let her summon you and then send you to someone else's home?”

“I dunno. Guess I just wanted to see what would happen.” 

He talks about it like it’s some experiment and you’re reminded of how unlucky you are to be one of the casualties in it. 

“Sounds like you have a lot of power, or whatever,” you murmur, crossing your arms and taking a seat on the couch armrest. “You can’t just go?” 

“I can,” he says, as if you were undermining him. All that goes through your head is how messed up his priorities must be if that's something he gets defensive over. “Kinda bound myself to you though, so I’d rather not.”

You felt the blood drain from your face.

Then it got worse. 

He wouldn’t even fully explain what a binding was. You only know he did it because he liked how quiet your apartment was. No spouse or children. No pets either. And yes, he does leave to go “feed” and fuck with peoples lives, he just does that while you’re at work. 

You suggested he could go do that while you’re home, so he doesn’t bother you, and he refused— without bothering to explain, again. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just go do all that when I’m home,” you continue to argue with him, but no amount of explaining will make him budge— not until you accused him of wanting something from you. 

“Well?” you say impatiently, mentally preparing yourself to listen to him list a bunch of things.

He didn’t have to think twice. “We could fuc—“

You hold a hand out, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence. “Something that doesn’t have anything to do with my mind, body, or soul.”

“Fine.” He clicks his tongue, looking at you like you had just ruined all his fun. “I want you to acknowledge me— and not just when you’re running through an imaginary forest, acting like you’re about to die or something. I want it when you’re awake, like right now.” 

Your jaw really shouldn’t be on the floor right now. He’s a fucking demon, of course he’d be this insensitive to other peoples struggles. 

“Did you really just invalidate weeks worth of nightmares and sleep deprivation?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Did you blatantly ignore me for weeks?” he counters, proving that he really did have an answer for everything.

“I didn’t choose this,” you remind him.

“And that’s no one else's fault but bigfoots,” he redirects the blame, trying to make it seem like you two were on the same team or something, after spending weeks chipping away at your sanity, all in the name of entertainment. 

It’s un-fucking-believable. You end up taking a deep breath, trying to remember what you were even talking about in the first place. Not to mention that you needed to calm down. Something about him sent your blood pressure levels skyrocketing.

You guess one good thing about him was that he didn’t rush you or try to fill the silence, something you probably would’ve thanked him for had it been something you noticed way sooner. 

“So you want acknowledgement?” you ask in a more relaxed tone, trying to meet the guy half way. 

He noticed that, along with how tired you looked, and started to feel a little bad. Enough to try to match your energy at least. “Mhm. In return, no more night terrors.”

You wanted nothing more. But you also weren’t in the mood to get your hopes up with this guy. “...Didn’t you just say that you found stuff like that entertaining?" 

“Oh, I do,” he says reassuringly. “You just don’t have the same amount of fear as you used to. You don’t run as fast anymore either. Takes the fun out of it.”

Well. At least he stays true to himself.

“I see.” You nod, acting as if you totally understood where he was coming from. 

You were a shitty actress though, and realized he wasn’t going to let you get away with the dry tone when you saw the little smile on his face. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t like being chased a little.”

The laugh that came out of you was the kind an overworked employee gives their boss the day after they've started applying for new jobs. 

“I really didn’t.”

With how crazy that laugh was, he believed you. He also looked at the clock, hoping it was an appropriate time for someone to sleep. You needed it.

“Nine’s is a good time to go to bed, no?” he casually asks, but you knew what he was doing. 

It was a relief, honestly. “It is. I think I might just sleep early.” You probably looked a little rude getting up as fast as you did, but you were starting to feel crazy just talking to him. A full night’s rest might fix that, but if it doesn’t, at least you’ll actually be rested. “So you just… want me to say hi whenever I see you?”

“No.” He doesn’t bother to hide how much he hated the idea. “Just stop acting like I don’t exist.”

“Ok.” Easy enough. He’ll probably be invisible or whatever most of the time anyways, so it wouldn’t be an issue. Right before you walk away, you ask one last question. “You won’t be whispering weird things to me anymore either, right?”

He snorts, “you think that’s as bad as the night terrors?”

There’s a bit of hesitation on your end when you realize he thinks you’re joking. It’s not until you stop and give him a concerned look when he realizes you’re dead serious. 

“I do… that’s why I was wondering if those will come to an end, too.” It sounded so awkward coming out of you. You hoped Sukuna would say something in return that would smooth it out, but he made it ten times worse. It was a yes or no question, he didn’t have to drag the time out for as long as he did. 

It’s not until you decide to show signs of your growing impatience through  an exasperated sigh when he finally says something. 

“Only if you say my name.” 

“That’s what you want?”

“That’s what I want.” He wasn’t smug about it this time, if anything he sounded awfully sincere. “Let me hear you say it once and I’ll leave your sleep alone.”

Even if he didn’t have the smirk he had on earlier, you were still reluctant to say it. It’s the second time he’s asked in under an hour. “Why do you want me to say it so bad though?”

“You said you’d acknowledge me more, didn’t you?”

“Yeah...”

“Then say it for me.”

—

He drove you insane at first. 

That was the goal, to annoy you so much that you’d break and beg him to stop. Seeing people in mental agony was just something he liked. Not that he ever does, he just brings up what you could do to get him to stop.

He pitches it like it’s a sale. From romanticizing what he does, to promising that he’d make you feel really good, he never ran out of reasons as to why you should just give into him. You remember staring at him for a few seconds. Dumbfounded and struggling to wrap your head around what just came out of his mouth. 

“I’m not going to let you feed from me.”

His pause was much longer. Not that the rejection left him offended or anything. It was worse, he was confused. Concerned, even— looking at you like there was genuinely something wrong with you. 

“You—” He paused again, scratching the back of his head as a little laugh escaped him, “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I’m not letting you feed from me,” you repeated yourself, sounding more irritated that time around. “Do you not realize how draining it is to be bound to someone? Let me enjoy what’s left of my sanity.” 

All he hears is you complaining about having to be around him and scoffs. He wasn’t that bad to be around. 

“It doesn't even work like that.”

“No?” You turn and ask, getting his hopes up for a moment, thinking you’d give him a chance to explain. Then you let out a disappointed sigh. “Actually— don’t even answer that.” 

He dropped the subject, but that wasn’t the end of it. 

But it didn’t bother you as much as it should’ve. It probably would’ve if he had stayed more mysterious, hiding in the shadows and all. But not now. No longer the unnerving monster in your dream, he was your annoying, unwanted roommate. 

And maybe that’s where you fucked up— you stopped seeing him as the boogeyman. Now he’s just… there. He was wanted too. You grew to enjoy having him around.

Even when he’d randomly pop up outside of your apartment.

“Another bag of apples?” He begins to scold you in the middle of the grocery store. Nobody can hear or see him, just you. “Just go grab 2 or 3 of them. You’ve already wasted the last 2 bags.”

An irritated sigh leaves your lips as you set them down. You hated whenever he was right. 

“Everyone’s gonna think you’re a brat if you keep pouting like that.” 

No, they’re actually gonna think you’re psychotic for the way you’ll sometimes murmur and laugh to yourself. And for all the times you’ve looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with nothing. You could tell them who you were talking to, but the ones who would believe you would be healthcare workers, but they’d probably start asking if you’ve been feeling like someone's been out to get you on most days.

“The coffee you get is on sale by the way,” he mentions, trailing right behind you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to be nice and all, but it never usually gets you anywhere. 

“You look like a freak whispering to yourself like that.” 

“Fuck off.”

“Arguing with yourself makes you look even worse.” He laughs at his own little joke, his favorite part was that nobody else could hear him except for you. 

There were the occasional, and gifted, individuals out there who could see him. It’s usually the ones that look at you like you're walking around with a machete in public. You can’t really blame them, he looks out of place in grocery stores and coffee shops. 

It must be odd to see him trail behind you, but it’s mainly you getting judged at that point. I mean, come on. There surely must be something wrong with you if you choose to be around him. 

Do you not have any real friends? 

The ones that your cashier can see. The ones that you can talk to as you set your produce down on the conveyor belt. The ones you can turn to and ask for spare change if you want to hold on to an extra bill.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” the said cashier asks.

You smile and say, “yeah.” 

She’ll never know how hard it was for you to keep a straight face when Sukuna started to mess with you, muttering, “she never does,” in your ear, acting as if he was tired of you making people think you had your life together. 

Wouldn’t he still count since it was all meant to put a smile on you?

Shouldn’t that be enough? 

—

He thought you were dead once. 

Between the way he felt about you and the fact that he thought human beings were weak, it could’ve been an overreaction, but that didn’t matter. He still felt it— all of that dread, just tearing through his chest. 

It started off as a small cold and falling asleep on the couch. Then the next couple days all morphed into one big, blurry memory. The only things you remembered were that you were cold and tired.

So fucking tired. 

Not even falling off the damn couch woke you up. It was Sukuna, who had been shaking you for what felt like forever for him, that finally pulled a mumble out of you. The only reason why you hadn’t woken up sooner was because he wasn’t trying to give you whiplash.

He was getting there though. 

“Hey.” His voice faded in and out at first, but you heard the desperation. The anger. “Fucking get up already— Hey!”

You eventually whined. Had the nerve to be all pouty, and that pissed him off, but that was better than whatever he was just a minute ago. He didn’t say anything at first, just tried to catch his breath. 

“Scared the shit out of me.” His chest continued to rise and fall, in disbelief over how bad that was. How bad he felt. The way he was starting to fucking lose it. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyes not even open. 

“You,” he scoffed, still holding on to your upper half. “Thought your dumbass fell and hit your head.”

“M’fine— just cold,” you mumbled, barely registering the ache in your bones. Or how worried he was. “Think I’m sick.”

“No shit,” he snapped, then continued to curse under his breath as he scooped you up into his arms. 

You tried arguing something, but the words just came out all groggy and incoherent, and were met with silence as he carried you back into your room. The only time you weren’t was when he heard a little, “so mean,” but it was just to laugh. 

There was only one blanket on your bed when he finally set you down. The rest were still in your living room. He was back before you even realized he left and soon had all of them layered on top of you, which wasn’t enough apparently since the shivering didn’t come to a complete stop. 

“Still cold?” 

“No.”

“You’re still shivering.”

No answer. He didn’t care to pull one out of you either, and decided to just get in bed with you. He thought there’d be some resistance when he pulled you on top of him, but you practically clung to him and tucked your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Better?”

You let out a hum, nodding against him. It wasn’t weird. It didn’t feel wrong. Not even when he wrapped his arms around you and slowly rubbed your back. The shivering stopped shortly after, letting you finally relax against him.

“Sukuna?”

His name sounded so sweet coming from you. He almost entertained it, especially when you never ask for him like that. A palm circled over your back to show he was still okay with how you two were laying.

And then he decided he was fine with never knowing what you were going to say, especially with how delirious you were earlier. 

“Go to sleep.”

You two don’t talk about that day, even when things between you were normal after. 

There wasn’t any change, no weird tension. You were still comfortable around him, he still acted his usual way around you. It’s just not something you two talk about. 

That’s just how it went when things that were out of the ordinary happened, which started happening a lot. 

Like that one time you learned he can sense when people are “in need”. 

It drove him up the wall. He was quick with you at first, harsher than usual, up until he couldn’t take it anymore and through an exhausted sigh, said, “you gotta take care of that.” 

You froze and turned to see him running a hand down his face, looking incredibly pained. “Take care of what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he groaned, as if he were over you playing dumb. 

A conversation that ended with your back hitting your mattress and his head finding itself in between your thighs. You were falling apart just seconds after burying his face in your cunt like he was fucking starving. You were a sobbing mess— knees pinned to your chest, squirming under him as he continued to obscenely eat you out. 

“Oh my god–” you whined, feeling the grip on the backs of your thighs grow tighter, “Sukuna— f-fuck–” 

“That’s it— keep crying my name like that,” he groaned against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.” 

As if he didn’t already know from the labored breathing or the way your thighs trembled under his hold. Or the way your back arched off the bed whenever he’d suck your clit. He was shameless in the way he just wanted to make you cum over and over again.

You’re still surprised at how things went back to normal after something so intense, but it did. For the most part. 

You thought about it more than you should. There were times where you’d even be overcome with guilt— it was something so wrong yet it felt so good. 

You never brought it up. 

He never tried again. 

Sometimes you wonder if it’s because he knew that’s how you felt, and that he didn’t want to be told his existence was wrong again. It was easy for you to tell him that in the beginning, but then you went and wove him into your reality. Now you catch yourself before mentioning him when people ask how your life has been— every single time.

You remind yourself he’s not real.

Then you go home and forget all over again. 

—

You stopped remembering your dreams after Sukuna stopped the night terrors. It’s something you don’t bring up, and chalk it up to being some sort of side effect. You don’t even know if you have them anymore, which was fine— can’t be a problem if it didn’t actually exist. 

Until it started to seep into reality.

You started to feel off in the mornings. Unusually warm, feeling most of the heat in your cheeks. Your heart would be pounding in your chest, yet not one anxious thought in your head. You felt out of place, disoriented— like someone rearranged your brain in your sleep without telling you. 

It went downhill fast. 

One morning turned into several, feeling more feverish than the day before. Your breaking point was waking up in a pool of your own slick one morning— feeling so needy that it hurt, but too sensitive to move, leaving you with no other choice but to wait for it to pass. 

You wanted to cry, but then Sukuna decided that he was going to appear at the worst time ever, so you sucked it up. 

You had a feeling that whatever was happening to you was his fault, you just had no way to prove it. You didn’t want to prove it either. Knowing how smug he’d be from seeing how pathetic you look right now, talking to him at all was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Instead of acknowledging him, you turn away— curling up and holding a pillow. 

He lets out a laugh, then appears right back in front of you, laying on the empty side of bed while propping himself up with an elbow. 

“Rough morning?” he asks rather innocently, pretending to care as he eyes traced over your body. 

“Fuck off.”

“Rude,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s no way to talk to a concerned friend.” 

“Not when the said friend is at fault,” you murmur back. 

“That’s quite an accusation.” He lets out a low laugh, leaving you even more suspicious of him. “And what did I do exactly?”

“You got me sick with something.” The complaint ends up coming out as a whine, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into, avoiding looking at him completely. 

“Did I now?” 

“Mhm.”

“We both know you’re not sick, princess. Yeah, your skin’s feeling all hot right now, but let’s not act like you haven’t spent the whole morning squeezing your thighs together,” he smirks at the way your eyes widen, reaching forward to run the back of his finger down your cheek. “Kinda hate to break it to ‘ya, but a lot of this is you.”

“What does that even mean?” As irritated as you are at the moment, you just sound like you want to cry, which was fair with how vague his answer was. 

He takes a moment to come up with an explanation, one that would make you less mad at him since he did have part in it. Trying to find another way to say ‘I planted the tiniest idea in your head and you made it so much fucking worse’, but also wanting it to make enough sense so you don’t ask a bunch of questions. 

He’s really not in the mood for that right now.

“I got bored and entered one of your dreams— nothing crazy. Just wanted to say hi, fuck with you a little bit,” he starts to admit, and to your surprise, you actually believe him. “But then you went and made it weird after you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me.”

“I did not,” you finally look at him, but it’s a glare.

He looks you dead in the eyes. “You did.” 

To his surprise, you didn’t try to argue with him on it. You seemed too worried about your little problem. 

Two things come to mind— you must have it really bad right now if you’re too tired to have an attitude, and that there’s probably a lot that he can get away with saying to you right now, so it’s probably best to tell the truth now.

Even though it was really fucking hard. 

“Anyways, you were being really sweet. Like really fucking sweet. So I thought, ‘this is new, I’ll stick around for a little longer,’ so I did.”

You don’t react to that much either aside from an eye roll, so he goes on to tell you more. 

“You were being all giggly and shit— talking about… whatever you were talking about. I just sat there and listened. You were sitting on my lap by the way,” he casually adds, figuring it wouldn’t be the truth if he left out little details like that. You’re looking at him like he’s a dumbass for letting that happen, and in hindsight, he absolutely was. “You were super touchy too, like rubbing on my chest and kissing on my neck—”

You cut him off, “what the fuck?”

“I thought the same thing,” he says in defense, acting just as apalled as you. It doesn’t do much. 

“Why would you let that happen?!”

Did you not just hear him? He was having the time of his fucking life in there. He doesn’t say that though, and instead points at you. “It was your dream. I can’t control what you do in there.” 

You're massaging the side of your temple at this point, more disappointed than embarrassed, hoping that's the worst of it. 

“Anyways, I ended saying a couple things to you and all hell broke loose from there.”

That immediately makes your stomach drop. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. He knows he fucked up, it’s practically written all over his face. “...what did you say to me?”

Apparently he wasn’t thinking straight, and ended up out-slutting you by talking about all the things he wanted to do to you. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he stopped at that, but he didn’t, and accidentally sealed the deal by asking, “I bet you’d like that, huh?” 

And you said yes, like a dumbass. 

It didn’t just plant the idea in your head either. He was so descriptive with his words that it also ended up putting an image of you two fucking in your head, and it’s been playing over and over again in your subconscious ever since. 

That really wasn’t his intention. He brushed it off at first, thinking it wasn’t going to do much— he was wrong. 

It was so fucking bad. 

It wasn’t just you that got affected, it got him too. He has been going through it. There’s a part of you that likes the idea a little too much and it keeps reaching out and pulling at him. You weren’t doing it on purpose, you didn’t even know, so he fights it. Every time you tug at his senses, he ignores it. It’s the worst when you’re asleep, hence the issues you’ve been waking up with.

“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” As expected, you were annoyed. Not fuming though, which came as a surprise to him. 

“It was a mistake,” he swears, holding off on saying that it was more your fault than his. He did not expect you to think about his dick this much. 

“Can you reverse it or something?” 

He snorts at the question and it almost sends you spiraling. It wasn’t because he found it funny, but because he’s already tried. It usually works in most cases, just not this one, because whether you want to believe it or not, you really like him. 

“You can’t, but it’ll wear off over time.” Not that he’s planning on letting it fully wear off on its own, he’s reversing it the moment it starts to weaken.

“So I just have to suffer through this until then?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” he grumbles, trying to hide the irritation he suddenly felt. It wouldn’t be that bad if there was some part of you that wanted him, yet you continue to ignore it— your thoughts and desires, even your fears. 

He knows all about your fears. 

He knows how you stay up sometimes, questioning your own sanity, if you’re just crazy and he’s one of the symptoms. That you think of him as the imaginary friend and how you fucking hate that. You hate how you can’t tell others about him too. He sees the way you look at him, he already knows how much you wish he was real. Maybe then you’d stop feeling guilty for choosing him over going out.

He understands and knows he doesn’t have the right to be mad, but he’s getting there from having to fight off the urges you send to him. 

“Staying away from each other would probably work.”

It catches you off guard. 

You weren’t expecting it to hit you as hard as it did. You find yourself having to pretend like it didn’t after realizing he wasn’t taking it back. 

He sees the hesitation in your face. The confusion. The biggest of all was the disappointment— like you’re wondering why did he have to go and say that. 

He doesn’t know why, but still, he doesn’t take it back. You never got to have a say when he bound himself to you, maybe one day you’ll realize this was him apologizing in the only way he knew he could by giving you the choice.

“How much would it help?” 

“Enough. You wouldn’t be spending your entire morning in bed,” he says, trying to sound optimistic about it. Not that it works. He keeps trying to meet your eyes and there’s a dull look in them telling him that you’ve mostly left by now— an attempt to protect what he hasn’t hurt in the last 5 minutes. 

There was a lump in your throat and the only way to get rid of it was to look past him. 

The choice was obvious, but you still think about it harder than you should. Trying to find a way to agree with him. Looking for reasons to justify an answer that was already right. It was logical. 

You somehow ended up in fantasy land some time ago, you had your fun, now it was time to go home. It’s harder than you think— telling yourself that none of this was actually real, that there’s nothing to be sad about, that you knew this day would eventually come. 

It’s okay to not want this to end, but it was going to happen. 

Don’t be dumb. 

Just do it already.

“We should just do that then,” you quietly say. 

“Alright,” he hums, not showing you much aside from the fact that it’s something that he’ll accept. 

Making the right choice doesn’t make you feel any better. The ache in your chest continues to build. You hated how you wanted more than just a simple “alright.” You wanted to know what he thought, how he felt. Why was that so easy for him?

He wasn’t supposed to matter this much. 

Sukuna wasn’t in a hurry to leave and lays on the bed with you a little longer. You’re still curled up on your side, and he doesn’t think you’re aware of how unhappy you look as you start to zone out, probably beating yourself up over it. 

He’s not happy about this either. He wasn’t sure how this conversation would end when he decided he was going to tell you what happened, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He didn’t think he’d be the one to make the suggestion either, let alone that he’d stick with it. But there ended up being a good reason for it in the end, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel very guilty about it.

It’s okay if it ends like this. 

He reaches over and gently rests his hand on your head, pulling you out of whatever train of thought you were having. The stoic face he had on before was gone when you finally looked back at him. 

He looks satisfied. 

“Not a lot of people get to wiggle their way out of bindings, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood by poking some fun at you one last time.  “Especially mine.”

“What an honor,” you murmur, clearly not in the mood. 

“The highest.” His lips twitch into a smile— can’t say he’s mad about someone feeling sad about seeing him leave for once. The cheesy response doesn’t put a smile on you or anything, but it makes you ease up on the sulking. It was enough for him.

He doesn’t say anything else after that. He just keeps his eyes on you, etching all the little details about you into his memory, knowing this will be the last time he’ll get to do it. It’s not just your face and features that he tries to remember, but also how you let him stay around a little longer so he could do this.  

There’s certain things that Sukuna just doesn’t do, and he’s accepted that he’s not as fixed as he thinks he is. It was easy for you to move him after making him remember that he was a human at one point too— a fact that he had forgotten long ago until you made him feel like one again.

He has no regrets, despite his time being cut short with you. It was bittersweet, but he was satisfied. 

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head as his final goodbye, and when you opened your eyes, he was gone. 

—

A month has gone by since you parted ways. 

You tried to enjoy it at first— the stillness, the uninterrupted silence. Then after a couple days, you started wondering if the apartment had always felt empty as it did. If it had always felt as cold as it did. You tried to ignore it, and blamed it on your miserable mornings. 

A week passed by. The side effects were still there, but they no longer got in the way of your life. You couldn’t place the blame on them anymore when you realized you still didn’t feel any better. Everything was still stale and lifeless. 

It didn’t feel like sadness, just exhaustion. You found it hard to bring yourself to do the little things like walking to the store or answering the phone. It felt like everything you came into contact with just took from you, sleep was the only break you had.

If you had to be honest with yourself, there was a part of you that thought he’d come back at first. He was stubborn, never listened. Even if he didn’t have a good reason to come back, he’d make one up. 

Then you realized you were waiting for something that was never promised, and wished it didn’t take as long as it did. You needed to get over it and move on, but you had no idea where to start. It wasn’t like you could talk about it. 

I miss the ghost that used to haunt my apartment, people would look at you like you were fucking crazy. You doubt a therapist would cut it either. It was hard enough to find one that you clicked with, let alone one that wouldn’t lie about believing you.

Writing in a journal hasn’t worked— you swear it makes it worse. You had a pen in hand, ready to write, only for 30 minutes to go by and realize nothing’s been written down. You just stared at the blank page and started zoning out. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” a familiar voice grumbles. 

You turn around and immediately freeze. 

It’s Sukuna.

He’s here, standing in your kitchen with a scowl. He’s irritated— rubbing his eyes at first, and when that wasn’t enough, he slid his hands down his face, nearly ripping his skin off in the process. 

“You have got to stop thinking about me so much— it’s driving me fucking nuts. How the hell do you get worse after a month?”

“Wait— what?” you breathe, still trying to process that he was here.

“Your thoughts, I can feel them. My fucking head hurts,” he throws his arms out as he continues to complain, as if he never left. “And christ— the fucking daydreams— what the hell does that help, huh?”

You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head. “I don’t—”

“They’re never normal,” he rudely cuts you off. “You made me die in a car crash once and started crying like you didn’t have control over that shit!”

You open your mouth to explain, but you quickly close it after realizing that you look crazy either way.

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he grumbles out, ending his rant right there since he’s gotten enough off his chest. “You’re life's normal now, you’re supposed to be happy— that’s why I left.”

“...I’m sorry,” you say barely above a whisper, still shocked at his return. 

He scoffs as he walks towards you. An apology wasn’t going to fix a headache that lasted for an entire month. 

“You’re fucking pathetic,” he mutters, reaching out to you and pulling you into his arms. The hug catches you off guard, yet you still accept it, and wrap your arms around him. Once your head leans against his chest, you practically melt into him and let yourself relax. 

“I missed you.” It was more of a complaint coming from you, as if you never wanted to go through the awful experience of missing him again.

“No shit,” he mutters back, resting his head on top of yours. 

You stay like that with him for a while, but eventually go back to the room. Neither of you say much for the first hour. After you raged war on Sukuna’s mind for an entire month, he seemed more than fine with laying down in silence, mindlessly tracing your back while you laid your head on his chest. 

You talk a little bit about what you’ve been up to, mainly complaints, but he still listened, figuring it was fair since you listened to him earlier. And then it naturally led to the conversation that you should’ve had last month. 

“Are you staying?” you're not very shy when you ask, it sounded like you were expecting a yes from him.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” he says, having to hold back a laugh from the look you shot at him for making a joke at the wrong time. You clearly wanted reassurance, which is hilarious given how you're already clinging to him like a koala, but he gives you some more anyways. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him and he thinks that’s the end of the questions. He was wrong, but they were good ones. 

“I still think this is kind of weird though— being with you and all,” you say, not sounding too concerned at the point. It's more just casual talk for now. “Are you just gonna watch me get old?”

“If you want,” he responds, not too concerned either. “You don’t have to grow old though, there’s rituals for that.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind of rituals?” You sit up and rest your chin on your palm, curious to learn more. 

“Messy ones,” he grins, wondering if he should even go into detail just yet with how gory some of them are. “Can’t remember any exact ones right now, but there’s always some blood and broken bones involved.” 

You point at yourself, “my blood and broken bones?”

“Maybe,” he says casually, running his finger across your jaw. “I doubt you’d have to though, you’ll probably turn into one over time.”

“Wait, so… no gory ritual?”

“No gore,” he lazily says, his mood changes fast from just thinking about it. “This one’s fun. Easy too.”

“Yeah right.” You stifle a laugh, already getting what he means by that— though you still don’t think it’s as easy as he makes it out to be. “Everybody would’ve done it by now it was.”

“It’s the slowest way since you gotta do it a bunch of times, but I swear it’s easy. Especially for you,” he casually says, despite the air starting to thicken between you. 

He’s the one who’s doing it. 

Your heart starts to pick up, getting louder by the second. You feel his hand sliding down your back until it’s on your ass, then pulls you up closer to him, all while the familiar feeling of heat starts to surge through your veins. 

“Let me show you.”

It takes him a few minutes to turn you into a whining mess. 

He manipulates the air and floods your senses, bringing you back to that same feverish state you were in over a month ago. It’s just as unbearable as last time, almost making you question why this is something you agreed to.

Then he starts to fill the room with the obscene sounds of him fucking you.

“Look at you— makin’ a mess already.” He’s got your back pressed against his chest, holding you in place as he pounded into you. He’s right next to your ear, being as filthy as ever, as if he didn’t already have you reeling from the way he kept hitting your sweet spot every time he drove his hips forward. 

“Feels good, huh?” he taunts you, you can feel him smiling against the shell of your ear. “Told you this was fun”

“So fucking good,” you whine, clinging on to the arm that’s keeping you up while taking every inch he gives you. Your skin’s burning hot, there’s chills running through your body, slick running down your thighs. The stretch is insane, and his cock just slides in and out of you like it’s nothing. 

Sukuna nudges your legs further apart so he can fuck deeper into you, soothing that ache you feel in your core. There’s a wet schlik every time he draws his hips back and each thrust grows louder, messier. Your moans start to pick up and he lets out a low, breathy laugh. “Is that where you want me, princess? That makin’ you feel better?” 

“Yeah, need you right there.” You’re as desperate as you sound. Everything’s so intense, yet you can never reach full relief, he just keeps you right at the edge of it. 

And he loves it, how fucked out and helpless you are, how the only thing you want right now is his cock stuffed inside of you. 

He’s still drilling into you when you feel a hand start to snake down your belly. Your breath hitches as it gets lower and lower, until the pads of his fingers find your clit, making you fucking lose it when he starts rubbing. 

He lets out a low groan when you start squeezing around him. “Fuck, that’s it, let me hear you scream for me.” 

And you do, overwhelmed by the pressure that starts to build up— fast. Your legs tremble and vision starts to blur, nearly going limp from the way he begins to work the orgasm out of you. He’s still in your ear, talking you through it in that rough voice of his. “Can feel how how fuckin’ close you are. Go ahead— let go and cum for me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts for it to hit you so hard that it rips a cry out of you. You start gushing around him, and he continues to ride you through it while his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier, just hammering through your walls as he chases his own release. Guttural groans leaving his lips as he starts filling you up with so much cum that it starts to spill out. 

Everything goes quiet after. You’re still trembling, struggling to catch your breath as you slowly start to come back to reality. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel Sukuna lean back and slowly pull out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a satisfied look on his face. 

“You’ll be just like me in no time.”

notes: i know nothing about incubus' and just went off random stuff i found on google

"hold still," he snarls, because surely the failure belongs to you, not him. your breasts quiver with the effort of stifling laughter. what's more absurd than the king of curses betrayed by his own anatomy? crimson eyes flash to yours, and for one ghastly moment you imagine your head exploding into a million bone shards and pulp for your insolence. reduced to a headless doll.

"don't mock me," he warns, and then—finally—he's in.

the blunt stretch of him sears you, bottoming out in one graceless thrust that steals your breath. where he lacks finesse, he compensates in sheer force. claws gouge half-moons into your thighs, as if it might conjure the angle he wants. every thrust drives through you with punishing depth, leaving you unsure whether the tears stinging your eyes come from laughter or the overwhelming fullness tearing you apart.

either way, he's punishing you from the inside. stuffed on both ends now, your body strains around him, clenching and spasming as if trying to push him back out, but there's nowhere to go. tight muscles stretched taut, choking on the impossible fullness, every thrust pushing him deeper into places you didn't think could be reached.

"fuck—stop scowling," you hiccup, clutching his shoulders between jolts. "you're actually-hnnh-you're good at this!"

the offended snarl that rips from him would almost be comical, if not for the way his hips slam forward on the next thrust, bottoming out so savagely that stars burst across your vision.

"good?" he spits, as if the word itself is poison. "i'm the best."

and then, slippery with your arousal, he squelches free with a wet, humiliating pop. the sudden emptiness leaving you bereft, but the look of startled rage on his face nearly kills you with laughter. this is it. you're going to fucking die.

“How does ten sound, babe?” The sound of your ex’s voice echoed through the phone, dark and full of dangerous promises.

You rolled over in your bed, feeling the tiny shorts hugging your ass ride up higher. Feet kicking up behind you, you stared at your manicured nails in the dim light of your room, only half listening to his words. “Uh-huh, sounds great.” It didn’t—sound great. He was a decent lay at best, and a dried-up waterpark at best. You were only making plans with that loser to piss off your bodyguard.

“Knew you missed me, angel.” He chuckled into the receiver, making you gag. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea… Oh well, at least if mr four and a half inches couldn’t finish you off, the drawer full of pretty vibrators you had could. “You gonna be able to sneak out without yer’ daddy seein’ you though? You know I love fucking that little pussy, but I’m not tryna get in trouble with his scary ass.”

Pussy. You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, daddy dearest is off on some fancy business trip for the weekend, so it's just me here.” Lie. Toji Fushiguro, your dad's best friend and your stuck-up asshole of a bodyguard, was lurking just downstairs, ready to put your ass in place if you even attempted to sneak out. Luckily, you had stolen one of your father's spare keycards before he left for his trip, so you could sneak out without him finding out.

Not like it mattered, anyway. Once you had this prick's prick inside you, you planned to take a nice little video for him just for the sake of pissing him off.

“Oh, thank god,” he chuckled. “God. So fucking excited to see you, baby. Missed fucking your tight cunt. Did you miss me fucking you, princess?”

You flexed your fingers out in front of you, pouting when you noticed one of the gems on your pinky had come off earlier. Fucking annoying. You just got those done. “Uh-huh,” you droned, “sooooo excited to feel you inside me.”

“Yeah, I bet you are, I'm gonna put my cock inside you and…” His voice droned on and on as he told you all the things he planned to do to you. Don’t get it twisted, his words were hot, and in theory, everything he described sounded amazing. It was because it was from HIM that it stirred no desire inside you. Maybe if he were able to make you cum even once, his fantasies would sound more exciting.

After hanging up the phone with your shitty ex, you rolled over to your back and planted your feet on the bed, resting your hands on your stomach. Turning your head to the side, you checked the time. Six o'clock. Shit. What the hell were you supposed to do for four hours? The chef had finished dinner an hour ago, so it wasn’t like you had anything left to look forward to.

Sighing, you rolled over and hiked a thigh up on the bed, stuffing your arms under your plush pillow. A nap couldn’t hurt. After all, you had already had your fun parading around in the kitchen, teasing that uptight asshole Toji with your tiny shorts and too-thin top with no bra. Going back down just to try and get his attention would seem desperate.

Closing your eyes, an image of you sending a video of your sex tape to Toji popped into your head. Would he hate it? Would he get off to it? Pervy old man probably would. A thought that held no merit, of course, as Toji had picked you up from countless parties of you half naked and drugged up, sometimes in the middle of the act, and hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Not to mention that one time you tried groping him through his pants when he was driving home, and he ripped your hand from him so fast it gave you whiplash.

Whatever. It was more fun to think he was some secret perv anyway, so you would think that way. Continuing with your filthy, unrealistic fantasies, you soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Cold. That was the first thing that came to mind when you woke up. Why was it so fucking cold? You cracked your eyes open slowly, greeted with the darkness of your room. Though through the dark, you saw the flashing light on your bedside table. It read “9:21”. With a groan, you squeezed your eyes shut. The sleepy haze was thick in your mind, and honestly, nothing sounded worse than getting up and putting effort into getting ready to fuck some shitty limp dicked fuckbag.

“This has got to count as self-harm,” you groaned, shivering while pressing your arms against the mattress to push yourself up. Pulling your straight leg towards your body, something jerked against you, preventing you from moving. The feeling sent a jolt of pain down your leg as your leg was jerked back to its straight position. “What the fuck?” You whispered into the dark, tugging your leg toward you again.

Once more, you were greeted with… wait… was that—

The lights flicked on, blinding you. You groaned, wincing as the warm hue of your overhead light flooded the room. “What the hell?” You shouted, cracking open your eyes open to be greeted by the more than confusing sight of Toji Fushiguro standing at your bedroom door, one large hand engulfing the light switch, the other stuffed in the pocket of his horribly unprofessional attire of grey sweats.

You furrowed your brows, about to protest once more, when you looked down at your ankle. Your lips parted. Your ankle had been handcuffed to the foot of your bed. Your blood ran hot with anger as your eyes snapped up to meet his annoying face, which now held a smug smile, almost like he had won something. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Did you handcuff me to the bed when I was sleeping?”

Toji crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chin upwards, looking down at you while leaning against your shut door. “Know anyone else with a key to your room?” He said.

You snarled, “Gods damned pervert! What’s your fucking problem! And how long were you standing there?”

Toji uncrossed his arms and slowly stalked towards the bed. Your heart skipped as you looked him up and down, trying to recoil against your headboard, but coming up short… for obvious reasons. Fucking asshole. It was easy to forget just how big he was when he wore a suit, but with his physique on display like this, in a tight black shirt, it was hard not to notice. He dominated the room with his presence alone, sucking oxygen out of the room with each step towards you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, knowing what you looked like in a cold room in your shirt that protected absolutely nothing. When he stopped at the foot of your bed, he took a seat, dipping the mattress, then reached into his pocket and pulled out—

What. The. Fuck??

“Give that back, asshole!” You lunged forward, forgetting all about how intimidating he was or how indecent your clothing was as you reached for the pink phone case with dangling charms on it that he held out in front of him like some kind of bait.

Toji stood when you got too close and stepped back. Once. Twice. Just until you couldn’t reach him from the end of your bed. “Toji Fushigoro!” You screamed, feeling your frustration burn your cheeks. What was his angle?

“Gonna cry?” He smirked, dangling your phone between his fingers like a two-year-old. “Don’t tell your daddy, I don’t wanna deal with his 'scarry ass' when he finds out I made his babygirl cry.” Your heart skipped at his choice of his words, but before you could look deeper into them, he continued. “He's a good man, but shit does he spoil you. If I ever had a daughter, I’d make sure she didn’t end up like you,” he tsked, flipping your phone around before clicking on the screen.

It unlocked.

“Hey! What do you think you’re—”

“Just a spoiled slut who thinks she's smart enough to steal her daddy’s key card to go have unprotected sex with some young guy.”

Your heart dropped. How did he—

“Phone sex isn’t the quietest shit in the world,” he said, answering your question before you could get it out. “Heard you pretending to moan at this bastard's words from downstairs. Could hardly hear my show because of it.”

Your eye twitched as he continued to scroll on your phone until he clicked a button and held it up to his ear. His eyes locked with yours in a challenge. “Toji Fushiguro…” you started, manicured nails balling in the sheets. “If you do what I think you’re doing, I’m gonna—”

“Sorry,” Toji said, raising a brow. “Not your ‘babe.’” You were pretty sure smoke was coming out of your ears at this point. “You're gonna have to find somewhere else to house your blue-pilled cock for tonight, boy.” And with that, he hung up the phone. He hung up. On your lay.

You don't remember reaching for the pillow that you threw at him—that he caught while laughing. Nor do you remember throwing the plushie your dad brought home from Venice for your twentieth birthday last year. He caught it. Again. “Quit throwing a tantrum. How old are you? You’re going to break—”

The glass that was once resting happily on your bedside table was being thrown across the room. But before it could even shatter against the door, Toji was there. His hand around your throat. Pinning you to the bed with a knee on the mattress between yours.

You desperately gripped his massive hand that didn’t squeeze too hard, but kept you in the submissive position he wanted you in. “I said, quit it.” He said, his face so close his breath tickled your cheeks. “Do you have any idea how much that glass costs, you spoiled brat? Huh? Or do ya’ just not fucking care?”

Blood rushed to your head, making the pulse in your neck pound. Wadding up your spit, you spat right in his face. Despite how satisfying it was to watch the muscle in his jaw bulge, it wasn’t quite enough to make you smile. “Go to hell. Who the fuck cares about some shitty glass? You cuffed me to the bed and stole my phone, asshole. Next time—”

His grip tightened around your throat. “Next time what?”

“Next time…” you gasped. “I won't miss.”

Toji shook his head, his lip curling in disgust. “How did you end up so fucking spoiled? Your daddy showers you with attention, and yet you still seek it out from everyone who walks by. Cock or pussy, you don’t care, do you? Have some respect for yourself.”

His words didn’t sting. Not even a little. In fact, it was just what you needed to bring a smile to your face. You burst out laughing, right in his face. “Ohhh, because you’re so much better? I’ve heard about your lays. Like you said, these walls are thin. You don’t think I can’t hear you telling my daddy about all the girls you’ve had? Unlike me, though, it seems like someone’s a little more picky with his preferences. Unless you swing that way too, and you haven't told him about that.” Another laugh burst from you. “Oh god, do you want my dad?” You giggled. “Is that why you’re so coy?”

Toji had a deadpan expression on his face. His fingers around your throat didn’t even so much as twitch. It kinda pissed you off that he didn’t care. This was supposed to piss him off, not frustrate you even more. “So what is it?” You asked, “Or are young college chicks more your type?”

Toji scoffed, pulling back his hand from your throat to squish your cheeks together. “Guess you haven’t been listening. Last time I had a college girl was twenty years ago.”

God. Something was seriously wrong with you that the reminder of his age made you hot and bothered. This was Toji Fushiguro. Your asshole bodyguard. He wasn’t supposed to be hot—sexy ass fuck voice and ass sculped by the gods or not. “What the fuck ever.” Your smile fell, and you shoved him off, surprised when he relented to sit back on your bed. You tucked your knee against your chest.

You could’ve sworn Toji’s eyes flickered to your ass as you did.

“Shitty lay or not, I was excited to get out of the house and get some action.” You pouted, “The hell am I supposed to do now?”

Toji gave you a once-over and shrugged before standing. His shirt had ridden up from your little tousle, exposing a not at all unwanted glimpse of his happy trail and sculpted V-line before hiding it from view. “Hell, do I care?”

You frowned. “Isn’t your job to keep me happy?”

His face scrunched. “My job is keeping you here and not out in some boy’s bed getting knocked up.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out your phone before tossing it down on the bed.

“I'm on the pill, jerkoff.” You cursed. What was his problem? With a sigh, you flopped back onto your bed, turning your head to look at the clock that now read “10:03.” “Could’ve had a cock inside me three minutes ago.” You half pouted, not minding not having to entertain that goon. Faking orgasms gets exhausting after a while. Best case, he would’ve had some molly on him, and the drug could’ve done the heavy lifting, but you didn’t really feel like dealing with the nasty crash of that shit come morning just for some plan to piss Toji off—entertaining as it was.

“I didn’t cuff your wrist,” he said, raising a brow while looking down at you like you were the scum of the earth. “Take care of it yourself.”

Cocking your head at him, you smirk, an idea popping into your head. “You know what, that’s not a bad idea.” While Toji stood there with a more than unimpressed look on his face, you reached over to your drawer, arching your back for dramatics, and dug around until you felt the soft handle of a clit sucking vibrator. Bingo. If you couldn’t send him a sex tape, this would be the next best thing. Lying back on your bed, you parted your legs and set the vibrator down, then reached up and slid your fingers in the hem of your shorts.

“The hell are you doing?” Toji’s gravely voice echoed in the room.

You smiled while shucking your shorts off—well, as off as they could go while having your foot cuffed to the bed—and arched your back, spreading your legs further to show off the green butterfly pattern of the front of your panties. “You told me to take care of it myself, didn’t you, Toji?”

His lip twitched. “It’s Fushiguro, and I didn’t mean with me here. Don’t wanna see that shit.” He wasted no time in turning around and strolling towards the door, but you couldn’t have that.

Clicking on the vibrator, you shoved it down your panties and wasted no time in sliding the intensity to full, pressing it right over your clit. Shit. So much better than your ex’s cock. God, sex toys are a work of art. Thank you, women-owned sex shops. A gasp left your lips, one you didn’t even have time to dramatize. “Fuck.” You moaned. “Fuck.” It was breathy and sounded nothing like the drugged-up, exaggerated moans Toji had heard from you before.

Toji reached the door just as you whined. Whined. His hand stopped on the handle he had gripped.

Bingo.

Fucking sucker. You had him now.

Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you arched your back and reached for your breast, though it did little for you when you played with your chest on your own. Bla bla. It was needed for dramatic effect. “Oh shit… that feels so good. Good idea, Toji.” You moaned his name, smiling when his back stiffened.

He turned then, eyes flashing something dangerous, but he didn’t dare look away from your eyes. “What did I just say? It’s Fushiguro. And quit that.”

“Quit what, Toji?” The vibrator hit a particularly sensitive spot, making you wince and inhale sharply. “Jesus, this thing is fucking s-trong,” you giggled, arching your back to escape the pleasure. Maybe you should’ve felt some embarrassment about getting off like this in front of him, but you knew he wasn’t going to do anything, and teasing him was fun as hell. Besides, for the five hundredth time, he’d seen you getting drilled in doggy—and stopped the show himself, a little masturbation show was nothing.

“Turn it down then.” He said, finally letting his eyes fall. The rush warmed your veins from that look alone surpised you. He was watching, that’s what you wanted. But… was it the satisfaction? You shook your head, cheeks heating for some gods forsaken reason. He averted his eyes once more, but you couldn’t have that. “You’re really just gonna let me… shit… get off on my own?”

“Yes.” He answered too quickly, turning the doorknob.

Shit.

“Toji.” You moaned. “Toji.”

“Stop.”

“Toji,” you rolled your hips, chasing a high. “Fuck, Toji, that feels so good.”

“Brat, I said, quit that shit. Now. I’m not playing with you.”

A smile pulled up your cheeks, but it faded when the vibrator hit just the right spot, stealing your mind with it. “Toji.” You chanted, over and over and over, eyes crossing and rolling back in your head, back arching—

The vibrator was gone, thrown somewhere across thr floor, making lots of noise against the polished wood.

His hand was around your throat. “Shut. Up. I said I’m not playing with you.” He whispered, his face too close to yours, his knee, that had kept its distance before, now pressed against you. “I don't know what kinda sick pleasure you get outta teasing me like this, or what you think you want, but your bratty ass better knock it off.”

Cheeks flushed, you gripped his thick wrist with both hands, squeezing your thighs around his much larger one. “I was so close,” you whispered.

“I don’t care.”

“Toji,” your eyes found his lips. Shit. What the hell was happening? You hated him, yes, but fuck, that vibrator did its fucking job too well, and now you couldn’t see anything but the clouded lust that encompassed him and made him look like the god of sex himself. “Toji. Eat me out.” You whispered.

His nostrils flared. “I don't fuck with college girls, brat. Do you listen?”

That wasn’t a no… kinda. Technically. Ok, it was definitely a no, but it was a flimsy, poor excuse for a no at best. Besides. If he really didn’t feel anything, he would have left with his moral high ground and walked out the moment you started using the toy on yourself. And he didn’t. “Just your tongue.” You said, “I’m close already, won’t take long.”

His fingers tightened around your throat, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. You thought he might say no for real, and your teasing game would be over, but then his eyes found your lips. “You're my friend's kid.”

“So?” You whispered against his lips, separated by the thinnest slice of air.

“I'm forty-two.”

You grinded yourself against his leg, smiling. “Hot.”

Toji’s face crinkled in disgust before he looked down at the wet patch you were leaving on his grey sweats. You followed his eyes. Oh yeah. Hot as shit. You smirked, burning that image into your head to get off to for the next… forever. “Your dad is a good man, brat. Girls like you aren’t supposed to have daddy issues.”

You shrugged, rubbing your thighs together around his thigh and using his muscles exactly how you needed him. “Guess I’m special.” You said. Then, when he looked away at the wall, perhaps searching for his morality that would make him NOT eat out his best friend’s daughter, you reached for his cheek with a hand, steering his attention back towards you. It may have worked a little too well, as he ripped your wrist from his face and pinned it to the bed. “Don’t touch me.”

“Eat me out.” Was your reply. “Do it, Toji.”

“Tell me what to do again, you little brat, and you’re not gonna like it. I’m not as nice as your daddy.” He whispered, his voice the definition of sin. “Not gonna coddle you like he does. Unlike him, I can see you’re not a sweet little girl anymore.”

You nodded. “I like that.” You didn’t like him pinning you down and acting like he was the boss. But hey. You knew you were the one in control, and that’s all that mattered. So, if you had to play the docile little kitten act like he wanted to get his tongue on your throbbing clit? You would. “Want you to show me what it’s like to be treated like a woman, Toji. Heard all those stories about how you made girls squirt with just your tongue. I’ve…” Your eyes rolled back in your head as you rolled your cunt against his thigh. You could’ve sworn he flexed the muscle on purpose.

“Don’t you say you’ve never done that before.” He said a bit impatiently, catching your lie. “I've seen you do it on some girl's face in one of your shitty clubs, brat. This innocent act isn’t gonna work on me.”

Well. Shoooooot.

Toji’s grip left your neck and wrist, and when you lifted your head to make sure he wasn’t gonna walk out on you, your head was snapped back against the mattress as Toji yanked your thighs down the bed, settling your thighs around his head. You fixed your posture, lifting yourself to look at him between your panty-covered thighs, his face close enough you felt the breath against your cunt.

Shit. ShitShitShitShit. It was almost annoying how good he looked. Was he supposed to look so good?

Toji looked almost bored as he looked up at you with dark eyes. Eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Hope you're watchin’, cos this isn’t gonna happen again.” Before you could think of something snarky to say in return, he pulled your panties to the side, and his lips were on you.

“Oh god—” it was the first thing you could say, the only thing, really. He sucked on your sensitive clit, and just that one little bit of pressure alone was enough to nearly send you over the edge. God. No one should be that good, that fast. He didn’t even have to get himself used to your cunt, he just found your clit and immediately started working his magic like it was his hundredth time going down on you. Only it wasn’t. It was his first.

He hummed, moving his fingers up to tease your leaking opening. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the toy that got you worked up, but you were thankful for it all the same when he slid a finger inside you and instantly curled it forward. Your hands gripped his hair as your thighs squeezed his head.

Your head fell back against the sheets, back arching when he lapped at your clit way too fucking eagerly. “Oh shit,” you gasped, head shaking back and forth on the bed as he quickly overwhelmed your body with pleasure. “Shitshitshit.”

Toji pulled back and kissed your clit, something that made you throb around his finger. “Happy?” He asked.

You nodded over and over, looking down at him with a ruined expression. “Yes, Toji. Fuck, yes. God, this is so much better than a damn toy.” You groaned, brows furrowing.

He smirked, adding a second thick finger that made you flinch, and began pumping and curling it with the other. “So much better, huh?” His mouth was back on you then, working its fucking magic as he lapped and sucked on your clit like it was ice cream, working you over with the perfect pace and pressure. Your eyes crossed when he swirled his tongue around your clit in a circle before flicking it gently, then sucking on it.

“Oh shit, do that again.” You moaned.

“Said I’m not gonna listen to what you gotta say.” He mumbled against your cunt. “Take what I give you. Not gonna listen to some spoiled brat. I know what you need.”

You nodded, rocking your hips against his face. “Yes, you do. God, you do.” You found that when you said those words, you actually meant it. A long, drawn-out whine fell from your lips when he repeated the action anyway twice more, smiling against your cunt when your legs started to shake. “Thank yoooou,” you whined, gripping his hair in an iron-clad grip.

He pulled back again, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. Getting harder. Faster. Rougher. “So she does have manners.” His smirk was deadly. It nearly stopped your heart—that must be the reason why the treacherous bitch skipped behind your ribs.

“You’ll find I can be realllyyy nice when someone is licking my pussy— oh goddd.” Your words tapered off into a breathy moan when he found your clit again, flattened his tongue, and shook his head.

“That all it takes to turn you into a good girl?” He chuckled, the sounds coming from his fingers working your clit, almost sending you over the edge. “I’ll have your daddy find someone to keep their tongue on your clit twenty-four-seven if it makes you nice.”

You decided not to tell him that he should absolutely be that person, because his ego was already undubitably inflated enough. It was annoying how good he was at eating a girl out, but fuck, he made it really damn hard to stay mad when it felt so perfect. “Maybe I should start fucking older men. Clearly, they know what they’re doing.”

The hands around your thigh tightened following your words. Then, he stopped thrusting his fingers, pressed them as deep as possible inside you, and curled them as fast as he could over and over. Hard. Hard enough to make debauched noises spill freely from your lips before you could even attempt to hold them back. “I’m not old, brat.”

You smirked, biting your lip while looking down at him as he slowed his torturous fingers. “Pretending there's no age gap here while my pussy is in your mouth is kinda pointless. ‘Sides, I like it.”

Toji grimaced again. “I don’t. Young women are too much work. Too bratty.”

“Thought you liked putting me in my place. Isn’t that why you’re thrusting your hips into my mattress, pretending you’re fucking me into the bed? You wanna fuck women like me. You like the rush it gives you.”

Toji paused. Paused. And looked up at you. “Maybe I’m not doin’ enough if you’re still running that damn mouth.” In another mind-numbingly quick movement, Toji had you flipped on your stomach, the chain rattling against the bedpost as it clanged around.

“What are you—” A heavy hand braketed by your head against the mattress as a hand below ripped your panties clean off. The tearing sound of fabric was enough to make you gasp, washing some of the pleasured haze away. “Toji!? What the hell! Those were my favorite—”

The unmistakable feeling of a hard, warm cock pressing against your cunt made you shut up. Toji’s body was heavy as he lay on you, rubbing the fat tip of his cockhead around your wet hole. “You took your pill today?” He whispered, teeth biting the shell of your ear. “Huh?” Your eyes rolled back in your head. What the fuck was happening? Was he really going to— “You want this? Want me to put your young bratty ass in your place?”

Shit. His voice and his fucking words were a lethal combination. No one should sound so hot. “Toji…” You whined, waiting in anticipation for the stinging burn to come. You knew it was unlikely for someone like him to give you a warning before he fucked you. “Are you really gonna… I thought you didn’t have sex with younger women.” Why were you hesitating? Maybe it was because of the way his body engulfed yours, maybe it was because you had a feeling his actions could prove his words, and he was about to fuck you stupid into the mattress. A fear of letting go, maybe?

“Do you want my cock or not?”

You nodded. “I took my pill today.”

You were right. He thrust in with no warning, knocking all the air out of you as he filled you completely.

“Good girl.” He said, then, he ruined you.

His hips were fucking merciless as he pounded into your sweet spot over and over and fcking over, making you eat your damn words as you cried out for more, harder, god, fuck, please. Tears flooded your eyes as soon as he thrust it in; the stretch was more than anything you’ve had before.

Soon, a hand was cradling your cheeks and turning your head to the side. Toji smirked, his heavy hips slapping your ass with loud, wet sounds. “Got a damn crybaby on my hands.” He pulled out until just the tip was inside before slamming back inside, making you cry out as more tears flooded down your cheeks. “Not a bad view.” He groaned before releasing you and shoving your head into the mattress. “Red, if you wanna stop.” He said, pulling his hand back to slap your ass hard enough to make it sting. “Otherwise, cry all you want. Turnin’ me on.”

“Toji!” You whined, arching your back to match his thrusts. Snaking a hand under your hips, you began rubbing your clit in quick circles, feeling your orgasm creep up on you. “S-o fucking gla-d you stopped prettending to be abov-e fucking meee.” You whined, your words coming out chopped and broken as he fucked the English language out of you one thrust at a time.

Toji shook his head before pressing his head to the side of yours, making sure his mouth was right next to your ear, before he said. “Didn’t have a choice when you started playing with your pussy in front of me. I love your daddy, but I’m still a man at the end of the day.”

You smiled a fucked out expression into the sheets, nodding over and over as he drilled you so fucking deep he may have imprinted himself inside you forever. “Can’t tell him about this fuck though, r-ight?”

Toji snickered, thrusting balls deep against your ass to roll his hips in circles, making your breath hitch. “Right, little princess. Now cum. Can feel you throbbin’ me, been around long enough to know what that means.”

“Oh shit—” You grit your teeth, your hearing starting to flicker in and out as he worked you over that edge and right into the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You blacked out while crying his name, shaking against the sheets, body going completely limp. You relied on nothing but him to get you through the bliss that stole your mind and left you an empty husk of nothingness.

With a half-clouded mind, you listened to Toji growl as he pulled out at the last second, before shooting his load all over your ass. Usually, it was a feeling you would hate—someone marking you like their territory, but the pride that overwhelmed you, knowing you made him cum a river all over your ass, overwhelmed your irritation. He groaned loud and long as he stroked himself through his high, thrusting into his hand as he milked himself of every last drop.

“Messy messy.” You slurred, smiling against your sheets now drenched with your own tears. “You came so much.” You teased.

Toji slapped your ass, making you yelp and turn the smallest bit with all the energy you had left to glare at him. “Blame this tight little cunt. Thought you were gonna squeeze my cock off when you came.”

You snickered, falling against the sheets once more. “Clean me.” You mumbled, to which Toji groaned, smacking your ass again half-heartedly before he got up. The bed squeaked as he stalked towards the bathroom connected to your room. You heard the water room through bliss-filled ears, and when he came back and began cleaning you dry, you remember mumbling one last thing before you dozed off into sleepland. “Uncuff me too, you shitty fucking pervert bastard.”