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Sukuna doesn’t bother to look at him. His gaze stays glued to you, watching you laugh with Shoko, and a small, proud tilt curls at the corner of his mouth.

"Hard not to," Sukuna rumbles. "She looks way too damn good for a place like this."

"Right?" the stranger says, taking another slow sip of his drink, clearly taking that agreement as an invitation to keep talking. His gaze drags over Sukuna’s massive build, the plain shirt, joggers, and face tattoos, and a cocky smirk appears on his face, like he’s already decided he’s got the upper hand. “Hottest woman in here, hands down. Gorgeous, carries herself well, and that smile… I was just about to head over, buy her a drink, see where the night takes us.”

Sukuna finally turns his head, sizing the man up with calm, almost lazy interest. He’s objectively handsome—tall, impeccably groomed, his shirt tailored tight over a sharp, well-built frame. He looks like the type who’s used to getting whatever he wants and moves through the world with the confidence that says he’s never had to fight for attention.

"Yeah?" Sukuna rasps, amusement flickering in his eyes as the man keeps embarrassing himself.

"I mean, c'mon, look at her," the stranger continues, sipping his drink. "She looks like she’s got real standards. Probably has a great job, drinks the good stuff. She needs a guy who knows how to keep up with her and actually treat her right."

Leaning back against the bar, Sukuna crosses his massive arms over his chest, thoroughly entertained by the sheer audacity of it all. Listening to a complete stranger explain what kind of man his wife needs is absurd enough that he's more than happy to let him keep digging his own grave.

"Yeah, she’s something else alright," Sukuna drawls. "You really think she'd go for you?"

"Oh, I know she would," the man replies, adjusting his cuff with a smug grin. "I've got the job, the car, the looks. Women like her know a good thing when they see it."

A deep, amused huff rumbles out of Sukuna. If this idiot so much as crossed a real line, he’d snap his neck without a second thought. For now, though, watching this polished suit walk himself straight into a wall is way too funny to interrupt.

"You've got it all figured out, huh?"

"Hey, confidence gets results," the stranger says, grinning. “Tell you what—friendly wager.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his leather wallet, fishes out a crisp, high-value bill, and slides it across the bar between them. "This says I'll have her number and a kiss before the night's out."

Sukuna tilts his head, a wicked smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"Alright,” he says. “Mind if I go first?"

The stranger gives Sukuna one last once-over, lingering on the intimidating ink on his face, the back of his neck, and the lines wrapping around his wrists and biceps. To him, Sukuna looks like someone who got lost on his way home from the gym, or maybe a prison, though he’s a little too well-kept for that. He lets out a dismissive chuckle, already certain there's no way a woman like you would give a brute in joggers the time of day.

"Go right ahead, man," the guy says, waving him on. "Show me how it's done. No chance in hell you're pulling her."

"Watch," Sukuna says simply, pushing off the bar and walking across the floor, his massive frame cutting right through the crowded room.

Over by the bar, you're mid-sentence when a broad, warm palm gently taps your shoulder. You turn around, and the moment your eyes land on your husband, your whole face lights up.

"Hey," you breathe, the sight of him instantly making your cheeks flush warm. He looks stupid hot tonight, towering over everyone around him.

Sukuna steps in so close that your back presses into the edge of the bar, his body boxing you in until there's nowhere else to go. He pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to you, leaning down until his mouth hovers right at your ear.

"Can you look up that Korean place we went to, like, two months ago?" he rumbles, his voice low and soft against your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver racing down your spine. "I can't remember the name."

"Oh, so now you need me?" you tease, but your fingers are already flying over the screen. "Yeah, hang on…"

Across the room, the man at the bar narrows his eyes, watching you take Sukuna's phone without a hint of hesitation and immediately start tapping away. He smirks, swirling the melting ice in his glass, already convinced he's seen this play before. Classic move, he thinks, assuming you're just typing in a fake number to get the giant out of your personal space. He's already rehearsing his opening line for when Sukuna walks away empty-handed.

You hand the phone back to Sukuna, a triumphant little smile tugging at your lips. "Found it."

“Thanks, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, sliding the phone into his pocket.

His palm reaches up, fingers gently catching your chin, and he tilts your face up to his. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, sweet, unhurried, and so deliberate it makes your heart skip a beat. When he pulls back just a breath, his crimson eyes catch yours, gleaming with smug, mischievous heat. A knowing smirk tugs at his mouth as he shifts his weight, about to step away.

Across the bar, the guy rolls his eyes, muttering, “A polite peck? That doesn't count for shit—"

He doesn’t even get to finish the thought. The second Sukuna starts to pull away, your hands fly up, and your fingers twist tight into the front of his shirt. You yank him back down, but even then, you still have to rise onto your toes, stretching just to reach him. Your mouth crashes into his in a kiss that’s deep, intense, and filthy enough to strip away any composure he might have had left.

A low, surprised rumble vibrates against your lips before Sukuna's arm snaps around your waist and his other hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. He only deepens the kiss, his thumb digging into your hip while you cling to his shirt just to keep him close.

The stranger hasn’t moved at all, his jaw practically welded to the floor. His eyes are wide, blown out in pure shock, watching as the gorgeous woman he’d been so sure about just yanked a terrifying brute down for a kiss that leaves nothing to the imagination.

"What the fuck..." he mutters, staring in disbelief. "No way he actually pulled that off..."

Toji passes by on his way to the bathroom and hears the words. Without even slowing his pace, he just glances at the man’s stunned expression, lets out a dry, wheezing chuckle, and deadpans over his shoulder, “That's his wife, moron."

By the time your grip loosens and you drop back onto your heels, your breath is ragged, lips flushed and tingling, and you’re staring up at your husband with nothing but shameless, unfiltered adoration.

Sukuna’s thumb drags slowly across your lower lip, tugging it just a little, while a broad, utterly satisfied grin stretches across his face.

“Good girl,” he rasps, lowering his voice, and the praise sends a jolt right between your legs.

"Every fucking time," Shoko groans from the side. "One drink and you're attached to him again."

"You say that like I'm complaining," Sukuna chuckles.

"I fail to see the problem either," you chirp with a shameless grin.

Shoko shakes her head at you, then looks at your husband. "You know, I used to have a lot less patience for you. It's annoying how much harder you've become to stay mad at."

Sukuna just snorts at that.

"Anyway," he says, giving your waist one last squeeze before glancing at the rest of the group. "You girls joining us at the booth?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Now shoo," Yuki says, waving him away. "We've got gossip to catch up on first."

Sukuna just lifts his hands in mock surrender, huffing an amused laugh as he turns on his heel and heads back toward the stranger waiting at the end of the bar.

“Easiest money I've made all week,” he drawls, picking up the bill. He gives the stunned man a small nod and walks toward his friends at the booth.

“What has gotten into you?” you demanded, trying to maintain your anger despite the flutter in your stomach. There was something undeniably thrilling about being manhandled by him, even if the timing was god awful.

Sukuna didn't answer. Instead, his eyes raked over you, dissecting every inch of your simple work dress as if he could already see the flesh beneath. The heat in his gaze alone was enough to make your nipples harden to stiff peaks against the thin fabric of your dress, the sensitive buds aching for his touch already.

Grabbing his helmet, he roughly shoved it onto your head, the sudden darkness and weight disorienting you. Before you could adjust it, he swung his leg over the bike and settled in front of you, the movement forcing you to slide backward as leather met your thin panties- the fabric useless as your pussy lips splayed open against the seat's surface.

“Closer,” Sukuna commanded, reaching back to haul you against his spine. You wrapped around his torso, your nipples immediately dragging against his muscled back through your dress. He peeled out, the sudden acceleration forcing you to plaster yourself against him, your pussy grinding against the seat with each movement.

Every acceleration pressed your swollen clit against the seat, every pothole and turn created friction that had you biting your lip to stifle whimpers. Your pussy grew wetter with each passing minute, thoroughly soaking through your panties until you could feel your slick coating the leather beneath you.. The friction was maddening- too much and not nearly enough.

When Sukuna abruptly veered off the main road, cutting down a narrow alley between two buildings, he killed the engine in the shadows, the sudden silence almost deafening after the constant roar.

You were about to ask why he'd stopped when he reached back and yanked the helmet off your head, tossing it carelessly aside. Before you could speak, he was off the bike, turning to face you with a grin you know all too well…

“Sukuna, what ar-“

He cut you off by grabbing your waist and pulling you forward on the seat until your knees bracketed his hips, the movement causing the seam of your panties to drag along your slippery slit, making you gasp. “Quiet woman. You think I didn’t notice...?” he growled, his fingers biting into your skin through your sundress, hard enough to leave marks that would bloom like bruises by morning- his favorite kind of flowers on your skin.

You blinked up at him genuinely confused and thrown off, “What are you talking about?”

"That little shit who delivered your package this morning before I left to drop off our brat." Sukuna's hand shot out, gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Saw the way he looked at you- my wife, like he had a chance or some shit.” His thumb dug into the soft flesh of your cheek, making your lips part involuntarily.

Understanding dawned, and despite the dangerous look in Sukuna's eyes, you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped, “That's what this is about? Sukuna, he was just being polite and doing his job- it's called customer service.”

“It's called asking to die,” Sukuna countered, his thumb dragging across your lower lip, pulling it down slightly to expose the wet part of your inner lip. “And his job doesn't include eye fucking my woman…”

Pre cum beaded at the tip of his cock, a dark stain spreading across the front of his jeans as he ground himself against your spread thighs, “You're mine. And I think you need a reminder.”

You should be annoyed… He had just dragged you away from work and embarrassed you in front of a customer, all because of some ridiculous jealousy. But instead, your lips parted further without thought, tongue darting out to taste the salt on his thumb before he pressed down against it. Your pussy clenched around nothing, the empty ache inside you growing unbearable. Your body yearned to be stretched around his veiny cock, to feel every ridge and vein dragging against your gummy walls.

“Here?” you whispered when he removed his digit, glancing nervously at the mouth of the alley where people occasionally walked past, “But… someone might see..." Your voice came out breathier than intended, thighs trembling where they bracketed his hips, the thrill of possibly being seen making your pussy weep even as shame burned your cheeks.

A wolfish grin spread across Sukuna’s face, “Let them watch,” he growled, one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your dress higher to reveal the wet stain spreading across your lace panties, “Maybe they’ll film it, post it everywhere. 'Innocent flower girl gets raw dogged by a criminal in an alley'- bet it'd go viral.”

His fingers traced the soaked edge of your underwear, “Christ, you're fucking dripping… Your clit's so swollen I can see it throbbing. All this from a motorcycle ride? Or were you this wet in the shop, thinking about getting fucked while serving that old hag??”

The crude words made you whimper, your hips unconsciously tilting upward, seeking more from him- cunt clenching visibly beneath the thin material, the outline of your swollen lips clearly visible through the translucent, soaked fabric. A strand of your arousal stretched between your thighs as he pulled the panties aside, exposing your dripping slit to the cool alley air.

“Sukuna,” you breathed, unable to form more coherent thoughts as he slid one thick finger through your folds, collecting the sticky sweetness that had gathered there.

“Such a mess,” he murmured, bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours “tastes like fucking honey. My sweet little flower, dripping all over herself at the thought of getting fucked in public.”

You heard the clink of his belt, then the rasp of his zipper as he freed his massive cock. The veiny shaft stood proudly against his stomach, the swollen purple head leaking pre cum that rolled down the impressive length in pearly beads.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your gummy walls clenching desperately around nothing. You'd never get used to the sheer size of him or how pretty his cock actually was- the way the thick mushroom head flared out, how the prominent veins snaked up the shaft, how the weight of him felt heavy in your hand or against your tongue.

“Please,” you heard yourself beg, hardly recognizing your own voice, “I need it. Need my husband to-.”

Sukuna's eyes darkened further, his grip on your waist tightening as he positioned himself at your entrance- dragging his swollen tip through your folds, gathering your slick to ease his way... “Need what? Use your words, and say it properly.”

“Your cock,” you gasped, past shame, past pride, “pleasepleaseplease- I’m going to go crazy if you don’t fuck me!”

The smirk that spread across his face was pure fucking sin, “Since you asked so nicely.” Without warning, he slammed into you to the hilt. Oxygen left your lungs in a harsh gasp as you were stretched wide around his girth.

A strangled cry escaped your throat as he bottomed out, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix, battering territory no other man would ever explore.

“Nngh- shit,” Sukuna grunted, his jaw clenched as your pussy strangled his cock, “Always so fucking tight. Like your cunt was made for me and only me.”

He pulled back until only the tip remained inside, your walls clinging to his length, reluctant to let him go. Then he slammed forward again causing the motorcycle to rock beneath you.

The sound of footsteps made your blood freeze.

Someone was walking down the alley… Coming closer and closer with each second. You tried to straighten up, to somehow make this look less fucky, but Sukuna's hand firmly pressed you back down against the bike.

"F-fuck- s’kuna-“ you babbled frantically, “Someone- hah- someone’s coming-“

“So are you,” he replied cruelly with a smirk, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing mercilessly. “Maybe we should stop?” His hips slowed fractionally, a cruel tease that had you whimpering pathetically.

“W-wait! Don't!” you cried out, beyond caring who might see now, “Don't you dare- AH!!! Please don't stop!”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest, “That's my dirty little wife. Wants the whole world to see how her tight cunt takes her husband's cock.”

A strangled moan escaped you as pleasure overrode your embarrassment. The footsteps slowed, then stopped completely. You could feel eyes on you now, witnessing your defilement... But who the fuck cares? Your husband felt too good, his cock addictive and making your brain turn to mush.

Sukuna didn't slow his pace. If anything, he fucked into you harder, each thrust making the prettiest wet noises as your pussy took him greedily.

Through the haze you were dimly aware of a strangled gasp that wasn't yours or Sukuna's- the unfortunate passerby who'd gotten more than he’d bargained for.

Your husband looked up at the intruder, his lips curling, and without breaking rhythm, he tangled his hand in your hair and forced your head to look in the strangers direction.

“Look,” he commanded, “show him who you belong to.”

You should be horrified, should be begging Sukuna to stop, to at least let you cover yourself. Instead, you found yourself moaning louder, your pussy creaming around his pistoning cock as your tongue lolled out.

His teeth found the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks as he continued to pound into your weeping cunt. The slight pain was the final push you needed, sending you hurtling over the edge into a blinding orgasm- eyes locked with the shocked stranger who’s eyes were fixed on your bouncing tits and where Sukuna’s cock continued to disappear into your ruined hole..

Your walls clamped down on his cock milking him as your vision whites out- making a mess around him, soaking the seat beneath you, your thighs, his jeans- everything within reach of your squirting cunt.

You could feel your face burned with humiliation, tears of pleasure and shame mingling at the corners of your eyes. The stranger -a businessman with a hard on- stared for one frozen moment longer before hastily turning and practically running away.

“That's right, run,” Sukuna called after him, laughing darkly, “she’s mine.”

Sukuna panted, his thrusts becoming uneven as he chased his release, “Gonna paint your cervix white, fill you up nicely. WHo knows, maybe you'll get lucky and find yourself carrying my brat again."

"Yes," you sobbed, "GOD YES!!!"

With a low, almost pained guttural groan, Sukuna buried himself as deep as possible, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside you. You could feel each hot spurt painting your inner walls, the warmth of his seed bathing your cervix just as he promised.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, both catching your breath as you came down from your highs. Sukuna remained buried inside you, savoring the warmth, his cock giving occasional twitches as your walls continued to flutter around him.

When he finally pulled out, his cum immediately started dripping from your used hole, mixing with your cream in a sticky mess down your thighs and onto his once clean bike.

“Fuck, that's pretty,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs, watching as his seed dripped from your ravaged entrance onto his leather seat. Your pussy lips remained parted and swollen, unable to close properly after the thorough attention they'd received from their favorite cock.

Despite the roughness of moments before, his touch turned gentle as he gathered you against his chest. One large hand cradled the back of your head, pressing your face into the crook of his neck where you could breathe in his scent that always made you feel safe, no matter how rough he'd just been.

“You alright?” he murmured against your hair, his voice softer than anyone else ever got to hear it.

“Mmm,” was all you could manage, still floating in post orgasmic bliss. You felt him chuckle before he carefully rearranged your dress.

“I'm not apologizing for being jealous,but I'll make it up to you. Run you a bath, cook you dinner." His smirk returned, “Then ruin you all over again in our bed.”

even when he has you pinned down into his mattress, he doesn't let up. this time, he's annoyed by the way you're overstimulated — running from his heavy, hard-hitting thrusts that feel like they're hitting a new spot inside of you every single time he bottoms out.

on your hands and knees, face buried in the pillow, sukuna fucks you with one knee pressed onto the bed, his huge chest beading sweat that drips down onto your heated skin and melts against your own perspiration. he's cursing and seething behind you, parting his lips to bitch at you, but shutting up when he feels your cunt tighten and spasm around him.

"stop— mmfgh-running away," he demands through his teeth, grabbing handfuls of your ass and leaving claw marks as he pulls your loose hips back into his length.

he knows you're crying down there... and he hates that he can't see it. he hates that you think scrambling on your hands and knees would make him slow down on your sobbing cunt, but all it does is add fuel to the fire.

you hate how pornographic your moans sound, all drunkenly slurred together as you whine and grunt. "uh— too m—

"what?" he snaps through the sex-induced haze, blinking sweat out of his eye as he reaches to flip you onto your back. in the maneuver, his cock slips out, leaving behind a slick mess on the insides of your thigh and against his wiry patch of light pubic hair.

for a second, you can catch your breath as you sink back in the bed. you pull your knees apart, reaching up to pull hair from your teeth and shoot him a death glare. "would it kill you to be sensual for once?"

"you're creaming all over my cock, aren't you?" he huffs like it's obvious, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down the mattress, taking the sheets with you. they're halfway off the bed, and he's about halfway buried inside of you before you can even really react.

you reach up for him, closing a hand over the back of his neck to beckon him into a kiss you so desperately need. He goes along with it at first, getting close to your lips, then speaking into them, "you think you're always in charge — how many times are you gonna make me prove you wrong, huh?"

you can't talk, and it's not fair because he knows that. he bottoms out inside of you before you can even blink, groaning against your lips as you whine and scratch at the back of his neck. "ah— as, mm-as man—y. t-t-

"close your mouth, you can't even speak."

"ah— f-fuck you."

"i am... want me to fuck you harder?"

but there it was. sat on his kitchen counter, a medium-sized red box with a tied bow of ribbon. inside laid a knife sharpener. a good one that actually costs money, not some don-quijote-dollar-store junk. there's a note tucked under it, folded once neatly. your handwriting was pretty yet unusual. rather on-brand.

your knives looked dull and i'm tired of not being able to julienne cut carrots whenever i cook here. figured i'd save you and me both from chopping a finger off. happy birthday.

you didn't sign your name, you didn't need to. it bothered him that you knew he would know who it was from. it bothered him even more when you never brought it up, sticking to the routine of never acknowledging him outside of a respectful bow whenever you bumped into each other in the itadori apartment or a rare moment in public.

you weren't infallible, though. as much as you'd want to keep your interactions with the older itadori to a minimum, sometimes fate has other ideas.

he was already half-asleep when the phone rang, and he almost let it go to voicemail until he saw the caller id.

you didn't call him. ever. not once in however long he'd known you, not for anything. yuuji was your first go-to. then the red head, he's 99% sure. following after, fushiguro's kid. hell, anyone before sukuna.

so when your name lit up his screen at a little after midnight, he was moving before he'd even answered, some part of him already knowing this wasn't nothing. your voice hit him worse than he expected. it was wobbly and scarily soft, the sound of someone trying oh-so-hard to stay calm. he'd heard that tone of voice before. a long time ago, in circumstances he didn't like thinking about.

"u-um, i'm really sorry for calling you so late. there's... there's a man following me, sukuna. i don't know what to do. i did the walking in a circle trick to make sure, and he's still a couple meters behind me, and i.." your voice trails off in a tremble.

“i'm coming. don't stop saying things, alright?" sukuna's voice rasps over the line, still deep from the slumber.

you oblige and keep blabbering to him, random stuff about your day and how your classes went. nothing to tip off the man a couple dozen steps behind you, as sukuna reminded you. he asks you to discreetly let him know where you were walking and you mention the closed-down laundromat, the one with the flickering sign. he knows exactly where that is. it's a dodgy stretch, badly lit, with no cameras.

"don't run," he says, taking the stairs two at a time instead of waiting on the elevator. "keep walking toward the main road. towards the streetlights. you hear me?" he hears you hum an "mm-hmmm" shakily.

"eyes forward. don't look back at him." sukuna's already running the red light two blocks from his building, spinning the steering wheel fast when he comes around the bend. "i'm two minutes out. you're doing good, okay? just keep talking to me. tell me something stupid. i don't care what, don't stop talking."

you ramble away, trying your best not to let your legs give out as you keep the pace steady. when you see the familiar black lexus' white leds come into view, you breathe a huge sigh of relief.

the car doesn't even fully stop before he's stepping out of it, door slammed behind him, the engine still running in the middle of the street. he's in front of you instantly, close enough to smell his spicy sandalwood cologne.

"go sit in the car." his voice is firm, in a different register entirely from the calm tone he had with you in the phone. "lock the doors. don't watch."

you don't listen. not fully, anyway. you get in the car like he says, but you don't take your eyes off him, watching through the tinted windows as he goes to face the man who's finally stopped walking, clearly recalculating the odds of the night now that there's someone the size of a bull standing between you and him.

you can't hear what sukuna says from inside the vehicle. you can see it though; with the stillness in his shoulders as he says words that send the guy one step back and then two more, eventually turning and walking fast in the other direction like he suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be.

sukuna watches him go for a long moment before he turns back toward the car.

when he gets in, he doesn't say anything. he simply sits there a second with both hands on the wheel, jaw tight. he's deciding whether he really wants to let the creep go without a physical lesson to take home. but he knows best that you don't listen to anyone, let alone sukuna, so you were most definitely watching the interaction. he didn't want introduce you to that version of him. mindless rumors were one thing, but if you witnessed sukuna was capable of everything people said and more... well. he didn't want to know what you'd think of him then.

"you're still shaking like a fucking leaf." is what comes out instead.

you shake your head, as if to disagree with the very obvious observation. "i'm fine now, promise."

"i didn't ask if you were fine." he reaches over without looking at you and turns the heat up, aiming the vents your way. "i said you're shaking."

you don't have a response for that. you just watch him drive, only his left hand on the wheel now, eyes flicking to you at every red light. it felt like he's checking if you're still there. you would be completely correct.

you blurt a single sentence out of nowhere. "you were the first person who i thought of."

sukuna doesn't say anything to that. just nods once, short, and pulls up outside your building, and doesn't pull away until he watches you get all the way through the front door. realistically, he didn't know how to answer that, which is why he opted for the silence. he thinks about the declaration the whole drive home.

sukuna didn't expect after the incident for things between the both of you to change. it's a week later on a particularly lazy sunday where you're leaning against the breakfast counter, halfway through a rant about your e-mech professor's terrible lectures when sukuna walks in for coffee.

you don't do the usual thing of ignoring his presence. instead, you wave him toward the mug he always uses. it was clean and awaiting him by the pot of already-brewed folger's. he wordlessly moves to pour himself the cup, and it goes unnoticed by yuuji and your other friends. he takes a couple sips and leaves it there, opting to move to the couch and read a dusty magazine that hadn't been opened since the moment it was kept on the coffee table. he was trying to not to look too conspicuous that he was invested in your ramblings.

you pay no mind and yap away, hands gesturing through the story, and somewhere in the middle of it you reach over without looking and steal a sip of his abandoned coffee. like it was habitual. he swallows the cough that tries to erupt from him, burying his nose deeper in the copy of teen vogue, highly engrossed in the article titled "top five tips to elevate your makeup bag!"

half an hour later when he manages to catch a moment where the rest of them were absent from the living room, he comes up behind you like fog. you only see a pair of tattooed arms cage you in.

"that's disgusting, by the way." he says, awfully close to your ear. you smelled of lilies and vanilla ice cream. he could get high on that scent alone.

you roll your eyes. "you'll live."

you don't even try to look behind at him when you say it, already moving to push past, but he doesn't let you off that easy.

he takes the mug of cold coffee from in front of you. you instantly turn to protest that it's arguably even more disgusting to drink stale coffee, but he's already downing the drink from the same side where your lipstick mark was. his narrow eyes were looking above the rim and straight at you. his gaze made your skin grow hot.

"you're insane," you finally manage with a breathy sputter.

"you started it." he sets the mug down and finally lets you out of his makeshift confines. before you knew it you were left alone, speechless.

sukuna himself didn't know what came over him to act so boldly. you were an itch he couldn't get rid of. the sunlight that seeps through his blinds. he was so close to acting uncouth, unable to make sense of the melting pot of emotions in his mind when he thought of you. you weren't yuuji's little friend anymore. you were fucking lilies and sinful vanilla that invaded his sensibility. it was bringing out a part of him he hadn't seen since his own college days.

you've come alone to the itadori apartment on a tuesday night because yuuji begged you to drop off a textbook he left with you. to no one's surprise, yuuji's not even home because of some study group he forgot he agreed to, so it's just you; standing in sukuna's doorway with an advanced materials textbook in your arms sporting your favorite sweatshirt and snoopy pajamas combo. he was clad in a t-shirt and sweats looking like he wasn't expecting company. he more than doesn't mind that it's you.

"he's not here," he says, stepping back to let you in anyway.

"i know, he told me. i just need to drop this and go, i've got a paper due—"

"do it here." sukuna doesn't pose it as a question.

despite giving him a look and rattling off a bunch of excuses about pending chores and whatnot, you find yourself sitting at the dining table, laptop open, with a plate of dinner he had just made.

"i wasn't actually going to stay," you say, watching him move around the kitchen. "i just really like pesto linguine."

"i know." he slides a glass of water to you. "i won't bother you while you write."

you scoff. "i really doubt that, sukuna."

you end up staying for hours. yuuji texted sukuna a while back that he was staying at megumi's, which he relayed to you. you didn't want to think further on why he let you know that yuuji wouldn't be home. you were trying your best to type away at the essay, but with sukuna reading across from you it was impossibly difficult to focus. you catch him watching you instead of his book, unhurried about it, not bothering to look away when you notice.

"what?" you say, not quite steady.

"nothing." he doesn't go back to reading. "you finish that essay yet?"

"you're distracting me."

"me, distracting?" he sets the book down slowly, leaning back in the wooden chair. "this is the first time i've spoken in two hours." his chair scrapes. two steps and he’s on your side of the table. one tattooed arm plants on the surface beside your laptop. the other reaches past you and closes the lid with a quiet click. “sukuna, i—”

you bite your lip before you realize you did, the lidded look in your eyes giving him enough ammo. a big hand moves to your head, his thumb brushing the side of your neck.

“you’re too much,” his voice was rough with arousal. “every damn time. it's like you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

you don’t deny it. instead you tilt your head into his palm, calm and curious if he'd cross the line. that tiny surrender is what finally cracks him.

he kisses you like a man starved. sukuna is nothing like what your past boyfriends were. he hopes they don't even come close. his mouth ravages you, tongue sliding against yours as if he needs to taste every second he’s spent away from you. when you make a soft sound against his lips he groans into it, the noise beyond pained.

“fuck,” he mutters against your mouth, already yanking your sweatshirt up and over your head.

“you walk around here smelling like that, talking like that, looking at me like that—” his hands are everywhere at once: your waist, the curve of your breasts through the bra, the soft bit of skin just above your pajamas. “and you expect me to just sit across from you and read a fucking book?”

you let him strip you and shove away your pajamas and underwear down in one impatient motion. let him lift you onto the table with impeccable ease, pushing away your things to make room. he clips off your bra and nearly cums at the sight of your perked nipples. he is every bit the domineering figure he always is; big muscles heaving, thick fingers already sliding between your legs to feel how wet you are for him and gather the slick.

but you notice his hands shake slightly when he finds out. the almost rabid look in his eyes when you don’t look away. sukuna was reeling from how unreal the entire ordeal felt.

“you're soaked,” he breathes in awe. “you’ve been sitting across from me like this for hours.”

you reach down to cup his jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. the simple touch makes his breath stutter. he drops to his knees like the floor pulled him down, spreads your thighs wide and puts his mouth on you with zero restraint.

sukuna licks into you like he’s trying to devour the feeling itself. if you asked him, he was in utopia. his tongue operated in greedy motion, lips sealed around your clit, two thick fingers pushing inside and curling hard at the spot that made you squirm. the sounds he's making are filthy, almost frantic, like he’s the one coming undone.

you thread your fingers into his hair and hold him there, guiding. he follows every tiny shift of your hips like he’s desperate for the instruction. when your legs start to tremble he only works harder, sucking, fingering, chasing your pleasure with single-minded intensity until you come with a broken gasp of his name, thighs clamping around his head.

he doesn’t stop until you tug gently. even then, he stays on his knees a second longer, forehead pressed to your inner thigh, breathing hard, like he’s trying to get his bearings. “good,” he mutters. “that’s one.”

when he stands again, his sweatpants are already shoved down. you make an audible gulp he chuckles at. he’s big and thick, already leaking precum that makes you eager for what his actual cum looks like. he steps between your legs, rubbing at the entrance, making you whine.

"be patient." he murmurs, eyes trained on your wetness mixing with his. sukuna wanted nothing more than to sink into you, but he was too drunk on your juices to not savor the sight before him.

when he does push forward, the sound that leaves him is almost a growl.

“god, you feel so—” he cuts himself off, burying his face in your neck as he starts to move, slow and deep. the table creaks under the force of him. you can feel he's getting impossibly bigger inside you.

sukuna fucks you like the pressure cooker of emotions exploded and his body can't restrain any further. the pace picks up fast, every stroke carrying the weight of months of wanting you, of not understanding why a paradoxical girl like you has him this wrecked.

you wrap your legs around his waist and meet every thrust. your hands slide up his back, pink nails dragging a path of angry red lines, pushing him to hit inside you harder. the way he shudders under the touch tells you everything.

physically sukuna may be in complete control: pinning you, filling you, setting a growing velocity that has you gasping. but mentally, you owned every inch of him. you feel it in the way he chases the soft sounds you make, how he softens the second you lay kisses on his skin, when his rhythm stutters when you breathe his name on the shell of his ear.

“look at me,” you murmur.

he does, immediately. sukuna's eyes were dark and a little wild, pupils blown. his face was flushed a light red and sweat beaded on the surface. the second your gaze holds his, he groans like it hurts, hips snapping harder.

you come again with him watching, pussy tightening around him in pulsing waves. the feeling rips the last of his control. he buries himself to the hilt and follows with a broken sound against your mouth, spilling deep, body trembling through it like the release is almost too much.

his hands have gentled on your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles. he’s still inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hoarsely. "i haven't acted this unhinged since i was twenty."

you brush a strand of pink hair off his forehead fondly and watch the way the simple touch makes his eyes flutter shut for a second. “i must give you real big feelings, huh?”

sukuna’s laugh rumbles, a little helpless. he turns his head just enough to press a kiss in your hair. “you have no idea.”

this was fully written with big feelings by ariana grande on loop for more than two whole hours. proof ⤵

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Maybe, if you’d had more sense, you would’ve broken up with Naoya in that moment and saved yourself a whole lot of trouble. Instead, just like always, you made excuses for him. You figured he was just having a bad day - that you just needed to prove yourself to him and then he’d be happy to have you as a climbing buddy. 

He was just concerned about your skill. That was all. 

So you’d worked hard at the club - learned plenty of skills, did plenty of hours in the gym, made dozens of friends with the other club members to ensure you weren’t dependent on Naoya to teach you everything. 

You tried to ignore how uninterested your boyfriend seemed in your progress, tried to ignore the way he’d flirt with the other women at the club - you were sure he’d be so impressed with you on your first major outing to Mount Hotaka that he’d forget about everything else and be pleased with you for once. 

That was all you wanted, for him to be proud of you outside of the offhanded thanks he’d give whenever you’d make him dinner. 

Your first trip out to the mountain had several people in attendance. Beyond you and Naoya there were a handful of women from the club who you’d grown close with: Shoko, Utahime and Yuki, and then a few men. There were a couple of older guys you didn’t know very well, and then a few in your age range who had been helping develop your skills - the most notable of that group being Sukuna, who had dedicated lots of time to teaching you knowledge that Naoya had brushed aside. 

It had surprised you at first, that the hulking pink-haired man had any interest in helping you do anything. Others in the club had claimed that he tended to be aloof, harsh and generally unfriendly - and while he was harsh in his teachings, unfriendly was certainly not the word you’d use to describe him. 

He’d gone out of his way to help you, chasing away others like Satoru with the claim that they were ‘too stupid to teach you right’. Spending hours at your side, he’d taught you all you needed to know about equipment, rope skills and climbing. He wouldn’t provide praise unless it was deserved, but once you’d finally started getting things right he’d always made sure you knew he was pleased with you. 

It was praise you were desperately starved for, praise you’d love to receive from your boyfriend, and you were ashamed to admit that Sukuna’s simple compliments lingered in your mind for longer than they should have.

You’d grown rather fond of him since joining the mountaineering club, even despite his somewhat prickly demeanour to everyone else, you felt he was someone you could rely on, someone who wouldn’t call you stupid for asking him questions. Even if he’d sometimes tease you for getting upset or frustrated for not understanding something, he’d still take the time to help you understand. 

Unlike Naoya, who would roll his eyes and once again point out how unfit you were for something as involved as mountain climbing. 

The comparison between the two was something you found yourself making more and more often, eyes straying over to your pink-haired friend when he wasn’t looking, your stomach flipping when he’d speak to you, or when he’d place a large hand on your shoulder in congratulations at a task done well. 

You knew it was wrong, chastising yourself whenever the thought of Sukuna would stray into your mind late at night while Naoya was snoring away next to you. Not only did you have a boyfriend, but you were certain Sukuna didn’t think of you in anything beyond a friendly manner anyway.

So you kept those feelings locked deep within your chest and tried to focus on why you were in the club in the first place - to prove to your boyfriend that you’d make a good partner for his mountain expeditions, to prove that you were worth more to him than being a glorified maid in his house.

The first few hours of the hike, starting in the early morning, had gone by fairly uneventfully. Your training had paid off and your legs felt good as you winded up through valleys and fields, trailing a little behind the group of boys, favouring a slightly slower pace and jovial conversation amongst the girls. 

Despite Naoya’s reluctance for you to join the club, you felt like it was where you were supposed to be. You loved being out in nature - taking in the fresh air and drinking from mountain streams, wandering along with like-minded people and encouraging each other along through the gruelling uphills. 

It wasn’t until late afternoon that things started to get more difficult, with the altitude creeping steadily up, and the group stumbling across snow fields that still hadn’t melted in the late spring air. It was nothing you weren’t prepared for, but with everyone feeling a great deal more tired than they had in the morning hours, the pace slowed considerably. 

A group of the more experienced men ended up going on ahead at a quicker pace, saying they’d get the next big section of uphill completed and scout out a good camping spot for the night, since the plan was to make a summit push in the early morning to watch the sunrise. 

You didn’t mind that so much - you didn’t like the feeling of slowing them down and that arrangement meant that you could keep going at a comfortable pace without feeling stressed about it. The girls you were with were perfectly experienced in their own right, and Naoya had chosen to hang behind with you anyway rather than going on ahead. 

That was a decision that you’d convinced yourself was on account of him wanting to keep an eye on you, but a part of you believed it was really because he didn’t get along with any of the men at the club. 

Or perhaps it was just so he could keep staring at Yuki’s ass like he had been for the entire hike up to that point. 

The next couple of hours were difficult, and everyone grew more withdrawn under the effort of a constant uphill - facing switchback after switchback with no clarity on how far you had to go beneath a freshly settled blanket of fog lowering the visibility. Shoko had been struggling for a while, and after an extended rest on a rock decided that it was best if she turned back and camped somewhere lower in the valley. 

She’d been having issues with her lungs and didn’t think it was wise to keep going. 

At her decision, Utahime also suggested that she wanted to go back, mentioning that she also didn’t feel in the best physical condition, and Yuki insisted on going back with the two of them to make sure they got back down safely. You’d considered joining them, but you were still feeling good both physically and mentally and were keen to continue upwards towards the peak. 

Considering Naoya’s experience, you were certain that the two of you would be fine even without the girls, so you waved them off and continued upwards into the mist, eager to reconnect with the other half of your group and get settled with Naoya in the tent for the night. 

—

Sukuna had found a pretty good camping spot. He was pretty sure it was in a similar position to where he’d set up on his solo winter ascent a couple of years before - a location that should be downright comfy in the mild spring weather. 

Assuming that weather stayed mild. 

It was hard to tell through all the fog, but he was almost sure he could see dark clouds rolling high in the sky. He hoped he was wrong. There hadn’t been a storm on the forecast, and if one was to roll in that could make for a very harrowing evening, especially for people like you who’d had little experience of the mountains. 

He hoped one bad night wouldn’t be enough to put you off entirely. 

“Yuki just radioed.” Satoru called out to him. “She, Shoko and Utahime are all going back down. The others are still coming I think.” 

Sukuna hummed in affirmation as he moved to set up his tent. He wished it could’ve just been you coming up, rather than you and your shithead boyfriend, but he supposed he’d rather you have a buddy in the mountains than be out there alone. If he’d had things his way, he would’ve hung back with you for the whole duration of the hike, but he didn’t need people casting suspicions on his actions. 

He’d already received some strange looks over his eagerness to teach you - the last thing he needed was the rumor mill in full operation. 

Even if the rumor mill was right in this case. 

He liked you. He really liked you. 

Feelings that he needed to keep to himself, because your boyfriend was one jealous asshole, and he was almost confident that any sign of flirting on Sukuna’s part would have Naoya taking out his anger and jealousy on you, which was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t sure what you saw in that guy, but god, Sukuna wanted to bash his teeth in. 

He’d been watching it for months now - the depressing life you lived in which you’d excitedly bound over to Naoya to show him something you’d learned only for him to react with total disregard. Sukuna had watched the light in your eyes flicker and die each time, doing his best to control the rage boiling in his chest. 

You deserved better than that fucker. 

But he got the sense that you weren’t able to see that. 

Almost everyone had set up their tents, laughing and joking and tearing into provisions by the time Naoya appeared from the mist. A couple of hours had passed since the group first found the camping spot, and Satoru welcomed him enthusiastically as he stepped into the clearing. He looked surprisingly exhausted for a man who was supposed to be experienced. 

Sukuna’s red eyes scanned the fog, waiting for you to appear behind the man. His chest squeezed when only silence followed, no sign of your presence in the mist. 

“Is it only you?” Satoru asked, voicing the very question that was on the tip of Sukuna’s tongue. 

“Yeah, the girls went down,” Naoya responded nonchalantly, shrugging off his backpack. “Is there a good place for me to set up?” Satoru’s lips parted, as if to question the man’s statement, considering Yuki had relayed specific names, but he clearly thought better of it, nodding and pointing Naoya in the direction of a clear patch of dirt for him to pitch his tent. 

Sukuna wasn’t so happy to shrug it off. 

“Yuki only said she was going down with Utahime and Shoko,” he called out to Naoya. The man turned to look at him, irritation shining in his amber eyes. Sukuna was well aware that Naoya despised him just as much as he despised Naoya. 

“They all went. Think I don’t know where my own girlfriend is?” Naoya snapped. 

Sukuna stared him down for a moment before leaving him be, heading over to Satoru and asking for the radio. Speaking into it, he called out for Yuki, praying that they were still within a reasonable range to pick up his voice. 

He was met with only silence, cursing under his breath at the realisation that they were probably all the way back in the valley by that point and likely impossible to reach. His crimson gaze fell to Naoya once more, watching him hum as he set up his tent without a care in the world. 

Something in the pit of Sukuna’s stomach told him that there was something wrong. You hadn’t gone back with Yuki. You’d been so happy all day, so excited about your first major peak. Not only that, but you’d been in good condition - he’d been watching you whenever he could, he’d been proud at how well you were doing. 

You wouldn’t have turned back. And if you had, Yuki would’ve listed your name when she was heading down. Yuki was no newcomer to the mountains - she was responsible and experienced and she always emphasised the importance of good communications. And if you’d have turned back any later, Naoya should’ve gone with you - it's what any sensible person would’ve done. 

But he was here, and you weren’t. And you hadn’t gone with Yuki. So you were alone. 

Sukuna’s first instinct was to bash Naoya’s head in. He wanted to walk over there and silence that bastard’s humming with a well placed rock to the head. What kind of a man - an experienced mountaineer, no less - would abandon their inexperienced girlfriend on the side of a mountain? 

It wasn’t like Sukuna doubted your ability. He’d taught you all you needed to know, but putting those things into practice alone, at altitude, and in adverse weather was a whole other thing. 

Instead of doing anything about Naoya, he parked that issue temporarily and quickly moved to dismantle his own tent. He wasn’t going to sit there and do nothing while your location was unaccounted for. Even if you had gone down shortly after Yuki, even if you’d made it back to the valley by yourself, he wasn’t going to roll the dice on your life. 

He’d go back the way they’d come and he’d walk until he found you - even if that happened to be safe and sound at the bottom of the mountain. 

“What’re you doing?” Satoru asked, hovering as Sukuna put his stuff back into his pack. Naoya had stopped to watch, a sneer on his already ugly face. 

“I don’t think she went down with Yuki. I need to make sure the boyfriend of the year over there didn’t leave her in some bad situation,” Sukuna explained.

“Oh my god, she’s fine.” Naoya snapped from across the campsite. “Yuki just misspoke, she went down with them. Why is it your problem anyway? It's not like she’s your girlfriend.” 

The defensive edge to the man’s voice told Sukuna all he needed to know, and he ignored the jabs in favour of packing up more quickly. He didn’t want it to get too dark - if something bad had happened and you didn’t have your headlamp on it would be impossible to find you at night. 

Unfortunately, Naoya seemed to have no interest in letting up. “I mean seriously? You’re actually doing this? I know you wanna fuck her but she’s always been a loyal little thing - she ain’t gonna put out for you because of this. I think she’s realised that she isn’t cut out for this type of shit - she went back down to safety with the rest of the girls and I think she’ll probably quit the club. She can get back to what she’s good at.” 

Sukuna’s hands stilled as he zipped his bag shut, his expression calm as he finally looked at the man before him. There was malice in his expression and a clear, guilty desire to keep Sukuna from trekking back down the mountain path. 

“‘She can get back to what she’s good at’?” Sukuna asked, drawing himself up to his full height. “And what would that be?” 

The smug grin Naoya shot him was sickening. “Making me dinner.” 

Sukuna laughed, a deep unpleasant sound rumbling from his chest. “Right.” He took a step forward, towering over your boyfriend who he deeply hoped would be your ex-boyfriend after that expedition. Before Naoya could react, Sukuna grabbed him by the front of his raincoat. “Listen. I’m going back down that path. If I find her out there, abandoned and alone, be assured that I’ll beat you so badly that you’ll never climb another mountain again. Do you understand me?” 

Fear flickered in Naoya’s amber eyes, but he pushed it down quickly, replacing it with a scowl. “Get the fuck off me.” 

Sukuna let him go, revelling in the way he stumbled about off balance, barely keeping himself from careening onto the floor. If he was being honest with himself, the desire to enact justice on Naoya in that moment was tempting, but he could wait. Every moment he spent in that camp was another moment of peril for you. 

And unlike Naoya, he wouldn’t leave you to a night alone on a mountain. 

—

You weren’t sure when you’d lost Naoya. 

He’d been picking up the pace significantly while you’d been getting slower and slower, and despite calling out for him to wait for you to catch up, eventually he just disappeared off into the fog - the sound of his footsteps fading entirely. 

It had left you at a loss, unsure as to whether you should keep going or turn back. You were certain that the summit camp probably wasn’t too far off, but you had no real idea of how far that distance might actually be, and had a vague concern that you might take a wrong turn in the ever-thickening fog, leaving you stranded for the night. You and Naoya were sharing a tent which he’d been carrying, and subsequently ending up alone for the evening wasn’t ideal for you. 

The most you’d be able to do is wrap yourself in your sleeping bag and find a sheltered place to hunker down for the night. 

But it shouldn’t come to that. 

Getting down to the valley would take too long, and you weren’t sure where Yuki and the gang would’ve settled anyway. Naoya had the radio. He had everything really, which meant that the only thing you could do was continue upwards and hope that you stumbled across the other half of your group. 

It was a plan that was going okay until you’d carelessly stepped on a loose rock, sending you tumbling back down a hill of scree you’d spent the past half an hour climbing. 

At first you’d thought only your morale was damaged, your mind exhausted at the prospect of having to get back up and reascend a slope you’d already climbed once. But as you struggled to get to your feet, you realised that it wasn’t only your mind that had undergone damage.

A hot pain spread through your ankle as you tried to stand, sending you straight back down to the floor with a yelp. Panic instantly overcame you, the sudden realisation of where you were hitting you like a tonne of bricks. Naoya, your boyfriend, had abandoned you on the side of a mountain. He’d left you in the fog, beneath the setting sun, without a tent and without a radio. And now you were injured.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he was actively trying to kill you. 

But what was more likely was that he was just proving the point he’d been trying to make all along - that you weren’t cut out for the life of a mountaineer. 

And considering your condition, could you really disagree with him? 

Soft sobs overtook you, and you began to spiral. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, shivering as the cold grew more intense, mumbling incoherently to yourself about how you should’ve gone back down to the valley with Yuki. 

Perhaps you never should’ve tried facing the mountains in the first place. 

Maybe Naoya was right. 

They were thoughts that fled from your mind at the blessed sight of a headlamp cutting through the fog from above, footsteps crunching evenly on scree, picking up in speed the moment the light shone upon your sorry figure huddled on the ground. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” Sukuna’s voice had a tremor of relief shooting through you, and more tears swelled at the corners of your eyes. He was crouching down in front of you, expression laden with concern as he scanned your cowering form. One of his hands reached for your face, wiping away tears carefully while he waited for you to answer him. 

“My ankle…” You mumbled. Everything was too overwhelming for you to articulate any further, your words already coming out all choked and shaky. Sukuna didn’t need to hear any more, attention instantly shifting to your foot. His hands moved to prod gently at it, watching your face for a grimace which came quickly under his touch. 

“Does that hurt?” 

You nodded. He bit down on his lip and quickly moved to untie the lace of your boot. A soft whimper left your lips as he pulled it from your foot, but he was right to pay your reaction no mind since you were overcome with relief once your ankle was freed from those rigid confines pressing down too tightly upon it. 

It had swollen up significantly in the time you’d been sitting there waiting for someone to come for you. 

“Right. I’ll deal with the ankle soon but I want to get us to someplace better first before it gets fully dark.” It was only just occurring to you that the wind had started to pick up a little, your clothes ruffled by air rushing against you. It would be best to be in a less exposed place - Sukuna had taught you that exposure made all the difference when dealing with bad weather.

“There was a plateau back down at the bottom of this slope,” you mumbled, remembering the slight respite you’d had from the seemingly neverending onslaught of uphill.

Sukuna gave you a proud smile and it made your heart flutter. “Yeah, that would work. I’m gonna carry you down there, if that’s okay? I don’t think you should try walking on that ankle until we give it a proper look.” 

You wanted to collapse into fresh tears at the suggestion. While your boyfriend, the person who was supposed to look after you, had abandoned you on the side of your first big mountain, Sukuna was here offering to carry you to safety. The feeling his offer was giving you had a risk of overwhelming you entirely, utterly grateful that he was the person who’d come back to look for you. 

Naively, you wondered if Naoya had sent him down to look for you. It was a weak hope, a desperate, delusional belief that your boyfriend wasn’t as cruel as he truly was. 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” you said, quietly. You tried to ignore how pleasant it felt when Sukuna crouched down to scoop you up into his arms. His touch felt warm against your body which had grown cold over the past few hours of inactivity. The arms holding you were strong and secure, building a feeling of safety knowing he was there with you. 

Naoya would’ve taken issue with it, but you wished you’d asked Sukuna to stick with you throughout the whole trip. Things would’ve felt better if it was him you were relying on rather than your boyfriend. In his lessons he’d always emphasised the importance of matching your pace with a mountain buddy - always checking that they weren’t far behind. 

Rules that a supposedly experienced mountaineer like Naoya should’ve been well aware of. 

Sukuna strode down the rest of the hill with ease, keeping you tucked close against him in a princess carry. Considering that you had your pack still on your back you were surprised at how easy he made the whole thing look, because he wasn’t exactly carrying a light load between you in his arms and his own bag on his back. But he didn’t complain or demonstrate any signs of struggle. 

Outside of the fact that he was largely silent until you reached your destination. 

You didn’t mind that. It wasn’t like you were in the mood to talk either, your mind swimming with all kinds of things now that you were in safe hands. Naoya had left you behind to die. You could’ve died if no one had come back for you. Exposure could’ve gotten to you, or an animal, or some person with ill-intent prowling the mountainside. 

He’d left you helpless and defenceless. 

And, as rain started to drip from the sky above, you realised that if Sukuna hadn’t come for you, it would’ve been an evening out in the storm, at altitude, with nothing but your rain jacket and sleeping bag to huddle within. 

You could’ve died. 

Sukuna found a well sheltered area and placed you down while he set up the tent. You were in awe at how quickly he got it done - the same actions would’ve taken you three times the time it took his experienced hands to get it sorted. You were grateful for the speed, because it meant the two of you made it inside before the worst of the rain began to hammer down from the sky above. 

“Okay. First the ankle. Then everything else.” 

You tilted your head a little at his statement, not quite sure what he meant by everything else, but you assumed he was referring more to your mental condition and questions around how you’d ended up in your terrible position in the first place. You hoped he wouldn’t be mad at you for failing to make it up to the peak after how much time he’d spent teaching you things. 

You thought maybe he’d chastise you for things like not having your own tent or radio, but Naoya had been insistent about carrying those items for you, assuring you that he’d stick at your side and claiming his actions were out of a desire to keep your pack as light as possible. 

You were stupid to have believed him.

Sukuna knelt by your foot, removing your sock and inspecting the damage carefully. His fingers pressed delicately against the skin and you found yourself admiring his concentrated expression in the lamplight. “I don’t think it's broken,” he said. “Probably just twisted.” 

Reaching into his first aid kit, he found a bandage which he wrapped around the problem area, before pulling out an ice pack and snapping to activate its effects. He placed the pack down on your ankle, earning a little hiss from you which pulled a small smile from his otherwise serious face. 

He’d been really serious since he’d found you, his expression all irritated and stormy. 

Was he angry with you? Frustrated that he’d had to come back down the mountain to your aid? You didn’t like the idea of being his burden. 

“Endure the cold for a bit - it’ll make you feel much better.” he said, placing a warm hand on your calf. Your breath hitched involuntarily at the contact and Sukuna quickly withdrew from you, a tinge of guilt flickering across his handsome face. He instantly busied himself before you could question it, moving onto the next stage of tending to your injury.

He fumbled about in his pack and withdrew some clothing, bundling it up into a small pile and wedging it beneath your foot to elevate it a little. Nothing he was doing was particularly revolutionary - on the contrary, his actions were all things he’d taught you to do in the event of an injury. 

You’d just been too panicked to do anything on that scree slope. 

Perhaps he was mad at you for that too. 

Sukuna laid out his sleeping mat next to you, his nose wrinkling at the revelation that you didn’t have one because it was in Naoya’s possession. He slid his mat beneath you, keen not to have you lying on the floor, before pulling out his sleeping bag and sitting on top of that for some amount of comfort. 

“So, what happened?” Sukuna asked. His voice was a little clipped, as if he was holding himself back from saying what he really wanted to say. 

“I was rushing and lost my footing on some scree-”

“No. I mean, why are you alone?” 

“Oh.” You shrugged, taking a deep breath and avoiding his eyes. There was a sticky feeling building up in your throat, keeping your words down. If you said the truth aloud you were certain you’d burst into tears again. “I don’t know,” you mumbled finally. 

“You don’t know?” He echoed. 

“It just sort of happened. The girls went back down the mountain and Naoya kept going quicker and then we got separated somewhere in the fog. I imagine he was probably waiting somewhere up ahead for me but then I slipped.” You weren’t sure why you were trying to defend your boyfriend. You weren’t naive enough to truly believe he’d been waiting up ahead for you. 

He’d left you. 

But the idea of airing out just how stupid you were to be in that relationship in the first place felt humiliating. You wanted to at least pretend that Naoya didn’t leave you for dead - that you weren’t the fool who had stayed for years with an abusive boyfriend when you should’ve just left. 

You didn’t want Sukuna to think you were completely pathetic. 

“Naoya arrived at the camp hours ago,” Sukuna said, his tone detached, as if he wanted to avoid projecting any of his own emotion onto you. “He said you’d gone back down with the rest of the girls.” 

The horrified expression on your face must’ve said it all, because Sukuna’s impartiality quickly faded, rage burning within those crimson eyes. Naoya really had abandoned you. And not only that, he’d also attempted to sabotage any retrieval attempt that might be made for you. He’d outright claimed you were safe when he knew no such thing. 

It was a thought that made you sick, and once again the tears started to flow, dripping down your cheeks. You’d spent years with that man, feeling like you were less than good enough. You’d let him break you down, put up with his endless bullying and tormenting, all because he’d been sweet to you at the start. 

You’d always thought you weren’t good enough, always thought that it was your fault he was so unpleasant with you. 

Now it felt like your eyes were open for the first time. 

He’d left you on the side of a mountain. He couldn’t care less about your wellbeing. He couldn’t care less about you unless you were making him dinner. 

And you’d put up with it. 

You were a fool. 

“I knew that fucker was lying,” Sukuna hissed. “Yuki didn’t say your name when she radioed in to say she was heading back. She’s always good with that sort of thing. Fuck, I’m glad I came down to check, who knows what would’ve happened if-” 

He cut himself off, faltering before he could finish the sentence. It was clear that he didn’t want to scare or upset you further, not when you’d already reduced yourself to a puddle of tears. You didn’t want to imagine what fate the night would’ve brought if not for Sukuna arriving as your saviour. 

Falling silent, he shuffled a little closer to you. Reaching out delicately he began to wipe away your tears with his thumb. The touch of his skin against yours felt pleasant, and you found your sobs faltering at the new found comfort he was providing. A deeply loyal part of you urged you to pull away, reminding you of your boyfriend. You immediately pushed the thought aside. 

Naoya wasn’t your boyfriend. 

Not after what he’d done. 

“Don’t cry. You’re okay. I found you and we’ll make it through the night together. I’m not going anywhere.” Sukuna’s words were soothing, and you found yourself nodding between sniffles, your tears gradually drying up. You hadn’t realised you were shivering until Sukuna tentatively wrapped an arm around you, pulling you up and close to him. 

The storm had worsened outside, and you huddled down in your jacket, letting yourself lean into Sukuna’s chest to keep the shivering at bay. If this was how you felt inside a tent with another human to warm you, you hated to think how you would’ve felt still stuck all alone on the scree. 

It didn’t bear considering. 

“You should report that asshole to the police once we get down. Nothing will come of it because it's hard to prove intent, but this was an active attempt on your life. He had a duty of care he ignored, stripped you of shelter and then tried to prevent a rescue. I have half a mind to kill him myself.” Sukuna’s voice rumbled through his body. 

No one had ever really stood up for you before. Naoya was always good at being charming when it mattered. Your parents and the rest of your family had always seen him as a good prospect - a polite and handsome man from a well off family. With your friends, you’d done the damage on your own, always defending him, manipulated by him to act like the perfect picture of an abused girlfriend. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whispered. 

“What?” Sukuna asked, pulling back ever so slightly so he could look at you properly. You hadn’t spoken at all since the reveal, and your quiet words clearly caught him off guard. 

“I’ve wasted so much of my life with him. Spent so much time defending him like he was some good guy. I only joined this club to impress him and all he ever did was tell me how useless I was at stuff like this - at everything. Did you know that he spent most of this hike staring at Yuki’s ass? And yet, when I’d tell him about how much stuff you’d taught me he’d get all mad about me talking to another guy and verbally berate me until I cried. And I just let it all happen. You must think I’m an idiot.” 

Sukuna hesitated, searching for the right words. It made you smile in a twisted sort of way, because he was definitely trying to find something to say that wouldn’t indirectly call you stupid - an impossibility considering the circumstances. Now that your eyes were open you could finally see how foolish you’d been. 

You just wanted to go home. Forget mountaineering or anything else you’d tried in an attempt to bond with that asshole.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he said finally. “I think guys like that are very good at getting their way, and you happened to be his victim.” The words were uncannily gentle, and at a glance at Sukuna’s face you could tell he was out of his comfort zone, but trying his best. He tightened his grip on you as a sudden gust of wind battered the tent. 

The touch had your heart fluttering, and you wondered how Sukuna felt about your current position. It was probably just a necessity in his eyes - a bid to warm up a tired and stressed woman, nothing more than that. 

With your loyalty to Naoya stranded somewhere on the mountain never to be recovered, you found yourself wishing the contact was something more than that. 

But considering your woefully pathetic attempt at summiting this relatively easy peak, you doubted Sukuna held you in high regard at all. His type was probably some strong, confident girl who already knew all her outdoor skills without Sukuna’s input. The type of woman he could rely on to partner with for dangerous and difficult peaks. 

That wasn’t you. 

You weren’t sure you’d step foot on a mountain again after this. 

“Maybe you don’t think I’m an idiot for that, but you probably think I am for all this.” You gestured in the general direction of your foot, still humiliated at the thought of Sukuna having to rush down the mountain to your rescue, like you couldn’t be left unsupervised for a single moment without finding yourself in need of rescue. 

Much to your chagrin, Sukuna laughed. “An idiot for getting injured? No, that’s practically a rite of passage. You were doing great through most of the hike - I was keeping an eye on you before the group split in half. We’ll get you down the mountain and get your ankle sorted, and then you can try this peak again another time.” 

Sukuna’s optimism had butterflies swarming in your stomach, but years of insults and abuse weren’t so easily displaced. You lowered your gaze, staring down at your hands in your lap. “I don’t know. I just wonder if Naoya was right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.” 

Sukuna pulled a face, clearly displeased by that statement. 

“Do you like being in the mountains?” He asked simply. 

He made no statement on your skill, no attack on anything your boyfriend had told you. Asked nothing more than whether you liked being out in the fresh air, doing what you’d been doing before your ankle had been injured. 

And you did. 

You really did like it. 

“Yeah. I do.” 

“Then you are cut out for this. Enjoyment is literally the only requirement,” he said earnestly. “Besides, that guy’s full of shit. I taught you everything you needed to know and I have faith in your abilities. If you need to listen to someone else’s opinion to determine your value, how about you consider mine instead of his.” 

A flush appeared across your cheeks. Those were the kind of compliments Sukuna would always pay you. Nothing particularly special or flowery, but deeply genuine in a way that had your whole body bursting with pride, pushing the rot of Naoya’s insults from your veins and replacing it with Sukuna’s approval. 

“We’ll come back here together in a few weeks, just the two of us, and we’ll do this peak. I can promise you it’ll be better. I won’t abandon you in the fog.” You believed him, nodding a little in agreement. Even in your fragile mental state that evening, you couldn’t help the excited flip of your stomach at the thought of Sukuna wanting to do something alone with you. 

The mountaineering club had been a means for you to learn your skills to climb alone with Naoya. You hadn’t expected that it would leave you excited at the prospect of climbing with another man. 

Still, you tried not to get ahead of yourself. Your little crush on Sukuna, which had been present for several months more than you were really willing to admit, seemed to have finally found the freedom to really take over your thoughts. Your heart was practically in your throat at your current proximity to him, a desire coursing through your whole body. 

You needed to push it back down even with Naoya out of the picture, because you were certain Sukuna was just being friendly, just being a better person than Naoya was. You couldn’t afford to let your mind run wild with fantasies. 

At least, that’s what you’d told yourself. 

The two of you had sat in silence for a while after Sukuna’s offer of climbing alone together, still huddled together and listening to the wind and rain outside the tent. You found yourself calmed by the steady rhythm of Sukuna’s heartbeat, basking in the warmth of his body which took your mind off the cold compress burning at your ankle. 

“Do you mind if we share the sleeping mat? It's okay if not, but it would be warmer for you and more comfy for me that way.” Considering that the two of you had been cuddling for a while, you didn’t see the issue. Anything was fine in matters of survival and you were more than happy to remain close to Sukuna. 

“Yeah, sure. We can zip our sleeping bags together.” 

Sukuna’s lashes fluttered and you swore you could see a dusting of pink on his cheeks, but you were quick to disregard it. It had been a long and exhausting day, and you were likely just seeing what you wanted to see. 

The cold compress had started to lose its effect, and Sukuna removed it from your ankle while the two of you shuffled about to get ready for bed. Your ankle was feeling much better after a period of rest and elevation, and you found you could move it again without excruciating pain. Getting back down the mountain might still be an issue, but it was one you could leave to figure out in the morning. 

Zipping your sleeping bags together and settling down on the sleeping mat, Sukuna made space for you beside him. You had to half lay on him for you both to stay on the padding, but with how warm his body seemed to run, you really didn’t mind. He wrapped his arm around you, nestling you close against him under the guise of conserving space - an action that had your whole body thrumming with electricity. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt that way. For months, maybe even years, the only thing you’d felt under Naoya’s touch was mild dread. This was something nicer, something more exciting - a feeling you wanted to experience over and over again. 

“Warm enough?” Sukuna asked, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The tent was relatively cool, the fabric being battered by the storm outside, all of which seemed distant as you lay there in Sukuna’s grip. It was a safe and warm place to be, one where you could take your mind off troubles and anxieties knowing he was there to keep anything and everything at bay. 

Troubles which Naoya had actively brought upon your life, were effectively chased away by Sukuna. 

How you wished you’d met the pink-haired man earlier in your life. 

“Warm enough,” you echoed, your voice coming out muffled as you buried your face into his chest. 

Again, the two of you fell into comfortable silence, listening to the whistling of wind and basking in the feeling of your bodies pressed close together. You were half asleep and almost convinced that Sukuna was already asleep, when his deep voice cut through the darkness and silence. 

“I don’t usually go on these things, you know,” he confessed quietly. “This is my first one. I’m only in the club because it gives you connections for exhibition funding and learning new skills. Usually I do mountains solo and usually I do stuff much harder than this.” He waved his hand in the direction of the tent’s exit. 

A guilt blossomed in your gut at the speech, recalling similar words from your boyfriend when you’d brought up the trip. He’d said that climbs in the Japanese Alps outside of wintertime were nothing special, and that the whole thing would likely be so easy that he could do it in his sleep. He’d only agreed to go after you’d begged him, reminding him that you didn’t have the experience he did. 

“I’m only here because of you,” Sukuna continued. The guilt within you only grew sharper. Was Sukuna trying to imply that he was only present out of concern for your inexperience? Had you forced him along because he knew something like this would happen? Had he known he’d need to come to your rescue?

“Sorry. I must be such a burden,” you mumbled quietly, burying your face in your sleeping bag. 

Did Sukuna really want to commit to climbing alone with you knowing that you were so much less experienced than he was? Or was he just doing it because he felt bad for you? You were likely a pitiful sight with your messed up ankle and an abusive boyfriend who had abandoned you. 

Sukuna blinked rapidly, astute enough to swiftly connect the dots. “What? No, that’s not- I was trying to say something nice. I was saying I only came along because I enjoy spending time with you. I don’t like these group things and I prefer to do harder stuff but I’m here because you’re here, and I like you.” 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears, completely drowning out the sound of any thoughts on how you were supposed to reply to that. You were too caught up on the word ‘like’, on the way Sukuna shifted ever so slightly against you, pulling you more firmly against his body. 

“What?” You asked, dumbly. 

“I like you,” he repeated. “I think you’re so cute and I love how happy you get whenever you learn something new and I’m so fucking exhausted of watching your boyfriend ignore you and take you for granted when I’d cherish you.” 

Again, your stomach flipped, your ears growing warm. 

“And when that fucker showed up at the top of the mountain without you, I wanted to kill him. When I found you all cold and alone on the slope I just- fuck. I want to keep you safe. I want to be the person who looks out for you, I want to take care of you in a way that guy seems unwilling to. He has no idea what he has- had, while I understand exactly what you’re worth. I want to take you to the mountains at my side because unlike him, I’d be thrilled to have you as my hiking partner.” 

Before you knew what was happening, you were crying again, wetting his clothes immediately with your tears. Your shoulders were shuddering and you could feel Sukuna’s heartrate picking up. It seemed like he was starting to panic - concerned that you were upset by his words when the reality was the total opposite. 

You’d never heard something so romantic from Naoya and you never would. To have someone speak such beautiful words to you felt surreal and your body had no idea how to react beyond sobbing from being so overwhelmed with love and affection. 

“Sorry,” Sukuna said quickly. “I know it's been a long day, now probably wasn’t the time to say anything. You don’t have to respond-”

He faltered as you peered up at him, your face wet with tears. He usually looked so confident, and even then there was still some atmosphere of certainty about him, but he couldn’t fully hide the glimmer of anxiety in his lovely red eyes. There was a fear of rejection buried within him, a fate that he seemed almost certain he was going to face. 

If only he could step into your shoes for a moment and feel all the emotion rushing over you at his confession

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t think of anything that would suffice as a response to his outpouring of desire. Instead you tilted your face upwards, lips parting softly in a clear signal - one that Sukuna caught onto immediately. He closed the gap swiftly, lips slotting perfectly against yours with a warmth you’d never experienced before. 

Naoya’s kiss had always been domineering - a wet and unpleasant experience. Sukuna’s kiss was gentle and exploratory. His lips took the time to appreciate yours, to linger on that lovely shared warmth and soak in the feeling of being connected so intimately for the first time. 

His tongue ran along your lips carefully, requesting for you to open your mouth. You complied easily, letting him hold you ever closer as his tongue pressed into yours, deepening the kiss in a way that felt so natural despite the fact that you’d never kissed each other before. 

A rumble of thunder overhead had the two of you parting for a second, and you found your shivering renewed as a particularly cold wind blew through the tent. Sukuna’s red eyes went to the entryway, the space illuminating for a second as another flash of lightning ripped through the sky above. His hands rubbed your back soothingly at a louder rumble overhead. 

“I’m so glad I came down to find you,” he whispered. 

“Thank you for coming to find me,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on his handsome face, your mind still struggling to catch up to all that had transpired in the past few minutes. Thoughts of Naoya and all the suffering he’d put you through seemed distant in the intimacy of that tent. “I feel so lucky. Injured ankle aside.” You giggled softly, heart jumping at the way Sukuna grinned back at you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. 

There was a gratefulness to his expression, a soft affection in his gaze which made you feel seen and special in a way you’d never felt with Naoya. It had you sinking deep into another kiss, your lips locked against his in a deeply intoxicating manner. All the stress and the anxiety of the day seemed to wash away beneath his grip. 

Even with the storm raging outside, you felt safe and warm with him there beside you.

You should’ve known about his feelings for you - should’ve understood the moment Yuki had made a comment about how Sukuna never usually spoke to anyone. He’d spent so much time on you, being so gentle in his teachings, making sure you knew what you were doing, making sure you were praised. 

He’d liked you from the start and you’d been too blind to see it. 

Too beaten down by your own experiences in relationships to believe that any affection directed towards you would be legitimate. 

You wished you could’ve puzzled it out sooner. You wished you could’ve noticed the soft look that always sparkled in Sukuna’s eyes whenever he looked at you. You wished you’d dumped Naoya several years ago, because it shouldn’t have taken an abandonment on the side of the mountain for you to realise how truly awful your ex-boyfriend was. 

But what was done was done. Sukuna’s hands were on you now, and that was all that mattered. You’d made it in the end, even if it had taken you a little longer to get there than you would’ve ideally liked. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered as the two of you broke apart for breath, red eyes scanning your face like he was committing your features to memory. “How Naoya could be so stupid, I have no idea.” 

“He’s not a smart man.” 

“No. He really isn’t.” Sukuna agreed. “But his loss is my gain.” 

You hummed, leaning against Sukuna’s chest once more, listening to his heartbeat beneath you. Despite the excitement, you were suddenly aware of how tired you were, and how much the cold was still seeping in through your clothes and down into your bones. Altitude was no joke, and the pleasant spring warmth was nowhere to be found on the mountainside that evening. 

“Are you still cold? You’re shivering.” It wasn’t possible for Sukuna to physically pull you closer to him than you already were, but he gave it an attempt all the same, practically crushing you in his grip. 

“A little, yeah.” 

“Shit. Once sec.” Moving away from you for a moment, he reached out of the sleeping bag and rummaged about in his bag, withdrawing his down jacket and draping it around your shoulders like an additional blanket. You were grateful for the added warmth, coccooned in between that and Sukuna’s warm body. 

For a few moments you lay there, your shivering finally subsiding, only for all the hairs on your neck to raise at the feeling of Sukuna’s voice vibrating against the top of your head. “There is another way I could keep you warm.” 

His tone was suggestive and perhaps a little amused. The comment had heat billowing throughout your body, your gut tightening at the suggestion of something you’d never allowed yourself to think of before. Sukuna was very attractive, and sometimes your mind had drifted in his direction when your hand had been caught between your thighs. But you’d always scolded yourself for it, had always driven away the idea of picturing a man you actually knew when you had a boyfriend. 

Now the suggestion was right there on the table as something real and tangible, and your mind was conjuring all sorts of exciting imagery. 

“O-oh. Yeah, that could be nice,” you said with a sudden rush of confidence. It was Sukuna’s turn to falter, red eyes suddenly wide with surprise, as if you’d called some bluff without even realising it. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmured, pushing you back ever so slightly so he could look properly at your face. “Sorry, I wasn’t actually expecting…this.” 

“I am on the pill,” you offered a little bashfully, embarrassed to have reacted so enthusiastically to what you were now realising was a joke. “But we can wait if you’d rather use a-” 

“No, no-,” his face was definitely a little red this time, seemingly caught off by your willingness. “If you want to, I’d like to. I just…” He rubbed his neck a little awkwardly. “I was just teasing and you surprised me, I guess. You’re always surprising me.” 

Before you could backtrack or come up with some witty response, Sukuna recovered himself and his lips were on your neck. You let out a soft whimper at the sensation of his teeth dragging against your sensitive skin, his lips latching onto you and sucking purple marks onto you with no concern for who might see them the next day. 

As far as he was concerned you were his. Naoya could rage all he wanted. If he wanted to keep his girlfriend he shouldn’t have discarded her on the mountainside. Bitterly, you hoped Naoya found out exactly what you and Sukuna had done that night. Let him seethe. Let him reflect on all that he’d lost. 

The bastard deserved all that misery and more. 

Sukuna’s hands found their way beneath your clothes, calloused fingers pressing against your skin with care. You hadn’t realised how much your whole body was aching until he was touching you like that, your muscles flexing at the new contact. 

You took his actions as a sign to do the same, sliding your own fingers beneath his shirt and pressing them against his abs. You knew he was well built - on hotter days he’d been shirtless when working on teaching you to lead climb, and you’d pretty shamelessly stared at him until your mind had reminded you of your boyfriend.

It would be nice for him to be shirtless now, but neither of you felt like removing any layers of clothing in the cold, so for the time being your touch would have to suffice. That was a freedom that Sukuna seemed to be taking full advantage of, mapping out your body with his hands, his fingers moving to your breasts and squeezing, red eyes lighting up at the little moan it earned him. 

“Really shouldn’t be doing this now,” he whispered huskily against your ear. “Had the whole thing planned out. Figured once you’d broken up with Naoya that I’d take you out on a nice date and then bring you back to my place so we could do this properly. But here we are.” 

You giggled softly at the dismay in his tone. “We can still stop.” 

“No. I want this now. You aren’t so easily resisted. But mark my words, once we’re back home, I’m going to take my time with you. I want to look at you properly beyond just fumbling about in a dark tent - as hot as this is.” 

Giggling again, you nodded, in total agreement with his sentiment. Doing things like this, while a little limited, did feel exciting in its own way. It felt like you were keeping some secret with each other, doing whatever you could in the dark without anyone else knowing about it. There was an allure to it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

With Sukuna’s attention on your breasts, you were the one that ended up making a major move first. Your hand slid down beneath the waistband of his trousers, finding its way into his briefs. He let out a groan at the feeling of your hand brushing against his cock, which twitched erratically at the slightest touch. 

It felt big beneath your fingers, and you hadn’t realised that your breath had hitched until Sukuna was letting out a chuckle. 

“Impressed?” 

“Maybe,” you mumbled shyly. You didn’t have much of a point of reference for such things. Naoya was the only man you’d ever been with, and you imagined that he wasn’t packing anything particularly unique down there. Not if Sukuna’s size was anything to go by. You wrapped your fingers around the shaft, enjoying the way Sukuna shivered in pleasure. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna mirrored your actions, his fingers moving down your body until they were grazing against your panties. It was a little embarrassing how damp the fabric had grown, your pussy desperately slick from the events of the evening. Your body wanted Sukuna just as much as your heart and mind did, and it was making that fact glaringly obvious. 

“So wet,” he said with a chuckle. “There I was all nervous that you wouldn’t feel the same. Shows what I know, huh?” 

You flushed, glancing away from him in embarrassment as his fingers pushed your panties to the side, giving him free access to your pussy beneath. His fingers moved deftly through your folds, moving the slick around before rubbing at your clit, leaving you whining his name and squeezing his cock a little tighter. 

“Cute,” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours. One of his fingers prodded at your opening, pushing in with a little effort. He took a few minutes opening you up with two of his fingers, languidly stuffing you full with them to prepare you. You didn’t want to admit to how emotional the whole thing made you feel, because Naoya had always said that foreplay was a myth. 

Never before had you been prepared for anything, and Sukuna taking so much time to do so had your heart fluttering. 

You tried your best to return the favour, stroking his cock as best as you could while it was still confined beneath his clothes, but he didn’t seem to pay that too much attention - completely fixed on making you cum around his fingers before moving onto anything else. That was another thing that Naoya had never done. Cumming with him was so infrequent that you’d almost grown certain that you couldn’t do it with another person. 

And yet, Sukuna had you doing it in a matter of minutes - your toes curling in desperate pleasure as you gushed over his fingers with a sweet little gasp. 

There was no time for you to catch your breath before he was pushing your trousers and panties down ever so slightly to give him access whilst still keeping you dressed and warm. He did the same for his own clothes, gently displacing your hand from his cock and repositioning the two of you so that he was on top. 

The sleeping bag was still wrapped snugly around the two of you, keeping the warmth in effectively while he lined himself up over you, his muscular body keeping you pinned down beneath him in a position you’d be more than happy to remain in for the rest of your days. It was so nice to be under him like that, to be so surrounded by his body and heat and scent. 

It was where you were supposed to be. In some uncomfortable tent on the side of the mountain feeling happier than ever because he was there with you. 

You’d gone to the mountaineering club for Naoya, but you couldn’t help but think fate had guided your actions and really led you there for Sukuna. 

“All good?” He asked, hot breath brushing against your ear. The tip of his cock was pressed up against your opening, and you realised that he was giving you a chance to back out - showing you a level of consideration that Naoya never would. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, lashes fluttering as you peered up into lovely red eyes, letting out a whine when he finally pushed into you.

You hadn’t been prepared for just how big he was, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your skull as he pressed his way into your tight pussy. Your nails dug into his arms and a whimper left you at the intensity of the feeling. You felt like you were aware of every ridge and vein on his cock, your pussy squeezing around him each time he’d involuntarily twitch within you. 

It didn’t take long for the uncomfortable fullness to give way to pleasure once he bottomed out inside you. It had a pleasantly warm buzz running through your body once he started to thrust within you, the weight of his body keeping you still and secure, keeping you warm even as the storm picked up outside. 

Any fears of the thunder and lightning were pushed aside in favour of focusing on the feeling of being split in two. Sukuna’s lips found your neck once more, overstimulating you as he bit and sucked on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, bringing tears to your eyes beneath all the pleasure he was giving you. 

Even through the stretch it felt right to have him inside you, and it was downright heavenly each time one of his long strokes hit that one specific spot inside you, bringing stars and light to your vision each time. 

This was where you were meant to be. 

Neither of you lasted particularly long. Not after the day you’d just had, and certainly not after months of mutual crushing. You’d cum first - your body already sensitive from the previous orgasm and totally overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. Sukuna had reached down to play with your clit while he fucked you, and that set you on a high unlike any other. 

If Naoya had known where the clit was, he’d certainly never touched it. 

And yet, there Sukuna was utilising it. You could count on one hand the number of times you’d cum from penetrative sex, but Sukuna had pulled an orgasm from you like it was easy. 

And maybe it was easy. 

Maybe Naoya just fucking sucked. 

Sukuna wasn’t far behind you in reaching his release. When you’d cum you’d clamped down around him tightly, locked in a spiral of pure pleasure unlike that which you’d experienced before. It felt better than anything you could achieve with your own hands - infinitely more intimate and lovely. 

The way you’d squeezed him so tight had sent Sukuna over the edge, prompting him to groan your name in that low tone of his as he filled you with his seed, riding out his own release to the point where you were growing overstimulated and begging him for mercy. 

Mercy which he gave you with a gentle smile and a kiss planted atop your sweaty forehead. 

The two of you lay then in the darkness, soft pants drowned beneath the howling of wind. Sukuna was holding you tightly, keeping you secure in his grip like you might vanish if he didn’t cling to you with all his might. He was still inside you, softening but present in a way that felt blissfully intimate. Whenever you’d laid with Naoya, you couldn’t wait to escape his grip and get cleaned up. 

With Sukuna, it was different. 

You could stay there with him sheathed inside you for hours - connected in a way that just felt right. 

His lips were ghosting against your hair, soothing you with kisses, running his hands over you repetitively in a bid to ensure you stayed warm at his side. Your ankle was throbbing a little from all the movement, but with Sukuna’s legs intertwined with yours you found yourself able to ignore it. All thoughts and discomforts overridden by how happy you felt in that moment. 

“Try and get some sleep,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ll look after you.” 

“I know,” you whispered. 

He smiled softly. “Just making sure you know it. Apparently you can’t take for granted that everyone will look out for you.” His tone came out a little bitter, but instead of feeling anger at the reminder of Naoya’s actions, you felt a warmth blossom across your chest at Sukuna’s display of care. 

You liked that he was angry about it. It was nice to have someone care about you for once. 

In hindsight, it was a blessing that you never made it out into the mountains alone with Naoya like you’d intended to at the start of your mountaineering training. If you had, perhaps you would’ve ended up left for dead - freezing on the side of the mountain while Naoya summoned some crocodile tears and dismissed your fate altogether. 

You were lucky to have Sukuna. Lucky to be able to continue going into the mountains with someone who actually wanted you there. Someone who would really take care of you. 

“I’m glad you’re here to look after me.” Your hand reached for his face, tracing his tattoos with great care. As pleasant as your evening with him had been, you were looking forward to making it down the mountain - to spending time with him outside of that tent. It would be nice to see just where those tattoos disappeared off to beneath his clothes. 

But that would have to wait. 

You knew that the next day would be long. An arduous trek back down the mountain was ahead of you, along with a no doubt vicious confrontation with your ex. One that you were sure Sukuna would take the lead on, but still not something you were looking forward to experiencing. 

Either way, you wouldn’t dwell on it that evening. 

Because for the time being, there was nothing you needed to worry about. The storm could rage on outside for as long as it needed to. You were safe in your tent, in the arms of a man who would never leave you alone on the side of a mountain. 

And it was possibly the happiest you’d been in a very long time. 

a/n: after getting down to the bottom of the mountain the next day I promise reader slapped naoya and sukuna beat the hell out of him :)

had such a fun time writing this its literally the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written as I love being in the mountains hehe

hope you enjoyed! reblogs and comments are appreciated as always!

perma taglist: @calicatzz @suzunu @winkii @sukubusss @bobis-notmylover @tetsuski @torupilled @brattyxackerman @r0vena @chaos-4baby @moonlitreveri3 @feyrinnn @strawberryrosey @creamofsneky-blog @zeeseekay @p1nkfl0wers @apricityn @keiiiluv @dogggggggblog-kaye @lav4mpira @seellove @cutesytwt @gojodickbig @yuujispinkhair @somos-things @yeagersss @paradisestarfishh @jennilynn63 @tthhaattgguuyy27 @bexxli @being-blue-is-better @tisuruxx @juliarchiv3s @dishs0pe @plutoxxxworld @5kkalara @serenadesvt @00frenchfries00 @warriorofenlightenment @scarlet-issilly @himbosexual @pousivuitton @ksjtozaki @certainfanpoetry @gojoscumslut @ynishalee @nakiich @t4ters @himezoro @pandabiene5115

And so this friendly back and forth continued for a few weeks, until you found yourself settled into a steady rhythm. Everyday you’d lift a greeting hand when you’d pull into the driveway in the afternoon following school pickup and a quick trip to the supermarket. He’d wander over to the fence line and offer to bring the grocery bags inside for you with some playful quip about how ‘pretty ladies shouldn’t need to do any heavy lifting’ that always earned a giggle from the girls.

You’d counter with an offer of tea and freshly baked cookies, to which he’d dutifully decline, very much as expected. It was all very civil, ordinary, comfortable in its normalcy, with just the tiniest hint of flirtation simmering beneath the surface. You noticed it in the small things - the way his eyes followed you when you rolled the bins out into the street in the early morning. Makeup free, clothed only in your pajamas, still blinking sleep away with your hair pinned up in a wad of crazed rollers. Or the way you’d pause for a few extra seconds to admire the sight of his back muscles straining beneath a sweat soaked t-shirt as he tugged rogue weeds loose from the dirt in his front garden.

He must have had a sixth sense, because every time you let your eyes wander for even a second, in the next blink he’d have turned his head to meet your gaze with a knowing smirk dancing on his scarred lips, right before he’d eye your own yard and offer to clear out your weeds too.

That was until one particular Friday afternoon when you didn’t smile at him. You didn’t wave, or even bother to spare a glance in the direction of his house when you slipped out from behind the wheel and stomped your way around to the backseat to unbuckle the girls.

The sharp click of his tongue caught your attention as you not so graciously slammed the car door closed, and through the intensity of your focus you felt your face flush hot at the sound. With the girls unclasped and happily skipping to the front door chattering between themselves, you finally turned around and lifted an apologetic hand.

“Afternoon!” You chirped, though even to your own ears the tone sounded forced, strained. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to ignore you - busy day.”

You found that instead of being perched on his porch rocking lazily in a wicker chair or working away in his garage as he was most afternoons, he was instead stood just past the footpath a little closer to your yard, hands gloved and dirt caking his boots up to his knees. He lifted his head and wiped his hands over his jean clad thighs. You swallowed, watched a few dry dirt clumps flutter to the grass below.

“Doing some more gardening?” You smiled, softened a little with the familiarity, the ease of conversation with no expectation behind it. “It’s the perfect weather for it.”

For the weight of your own gloomy mood, the rest of the world seemed chipper as ever. The sun was warm, dappling your front yard with little petals of light between the tree leaves, and the wind was refreshingly crisp when it caught in your hair, swirling it skyward before you raised a hand to tuck the stray stands behind your ear. Toji was obviously feeling the heat of the afternoon - with the way his inky hair was sticking slick to his forehead in places, and you could see a bead of sweat dipping beneath the collar of his loosely buttoned shirt, crawling over the curve of a plump pec.

“Hm.” He hummed in reply, interrupting your train of thought as you followed the path the droplet was forging beneath the thin fabric with your eyes, “so what’s botherin’ you then?”

At his voice your eyes shot back up to meet his, and you offered a sheepish sort of smile in reply.

“I’m that obvious huh?”

He shrugged a little, breaking your eye contact - head lowered as he began to tug the muddied gloves from his hands, thick fingers flexing when they hit the comparatively cool air.

“You’re no award winning actress, that’s for sure.”

“Just been one of those days.” You sighed, feeling more and more exhausted with each word, as if each syllable were a brick tied to your ankles, weighing you down. “The girls are staying at their dads this weekend, and I’ve been so busy that I completely forgot to prepare their changes of clothes, and of course the washing machine stopped working last night and I…”

You trailed off, foregoing the hundreds of other minute irritations in favor of sucking your lower lip between your teeth. Blinking frantically, you instead looked sharply at the ground, hot tears of frustration beginning to well at your lash line. Brows knitted, you studied the grass peeking between the strips of concrete beneath your sandals intently, until you were absolutely sure you weren’t actually going to start crying.

“Well that’s easy then,” came Toji’s smooth reply after a few long moments. You were suddenly grateful for his tact, allowing you a few quiet minutes to compose yourself before expecting an answer.

“Easy?” You mouthed, a little wide-eyed as you gazed over at him quizzically, “what do you mean?”

“I’ll come fix the washing machine,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh, are you sure?” You questioned, a little uncertain, “it looked really broken, like ‘water soaking the whole laundry room floor’ broken.”

He looked entirely unperturbed when he finally got both hands free, and he cleared his throat as he tossed the mud clad gloves to the ground beside a collection of similarly dirtied tools.

“Door gasket, I’d bet money on it,” he replied smoothly, with a sort of calm confidence that had your shoulders relaxing an inch already, “I’ve got a spare in my shed. I’ll have it swapped in a flash, ten minutes tops.”

You said nothing for a few moments, pondering his offer. You considered another night spent fiddling with the door hinge. Flipping through the owners manual like it held the secrets to the universe, only to have your efforts result in a few firm kicks to the metal contraption and another day wearing old bikini bottoms as underwear. You pictured yourself sweating over the basin, handwashing the girls school clothes in a flurry of detergent and steam. You tired a little more at the mere thought.

“Alright then,” you finally nodded, beaming up at him with a relieved sigh, “thankyou very much, Fushiguro.”

“See? Easy,” he smiled in reply, “and for the last time, call me Toji, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but feel a shift in the energy when he finally stepped over the threshold and into your home, looking starkly out of place in the mellow sanctity of your front hallway. Harsh lines and dark contours in a sea of softness. Muted tones and family photos, kids finger paintings tacked to the fridge and little craft projects littering any flat surface.

“I’m sorry I don’t think I have any slippers in your size…” You murmured as you leaned down to unclasp the shiny little buckles of your sandals, toeing them off at the door in favor of a pair of plain house-slippers.

He nodded without reply and cleared his throat, head held high and eyes averted when you finally straightened back up. He wiggled his toes where they were pressed bare against the wood slats.

“It’s no problem.”

You bit your cheek against the urge to smile, and instead dipped your head and turned to begin walking down the hallway.

“It’s this way,” you called over your shoulder, hooking a finger in the air, “please follow me.”

If you’d felt unsure about having your neighbor in your entrance way, the feeling was tenfold with the sight of him craning his head as he stepped into the laundry room. As he straightened up, you watched his eyes catalog the space ever so subtly. It felt oddly intimate, and you felt a warmth begin to creep up your throat.

You toyed with the collar of your dress as he set the toolbox down, eyes lowered as he unclasped the closure and began emptying it of the needed equipment. You watched the motion of his hands pause for a fraction of a section, head tilted as he subtly eyed the basket of clothes tucked on the bench beside him. You followed his line of sight, and to your utter horror found a slip of black lace sitting blatantly at the top of the mountainous pile.

With embarrassment licking hotly up your nape, you stepped forward and quickly snatched the basket, tucking it to your hip with a quiet cough.

“My apologies,” you squeaked, angling your body to shield any more of your potential delicates from view, “Let me get that out of your way.”

“Sure,” came his smooth reply, seeming entirely unperturbed despite your sudden closeness. So much so that you wondered if you were overreacting, and he hadn’t noticed anything at all.

Still, you discarded the basket to an unused corner of the room out of sight nonetheless, and then began mindlessly tidying while Toji busied himself unscrewing the washing machine door.

As promised, no more than ten minutes later he was lifting himself to his feet with a low groan, nodding as he tucked a wrench back into the toolbox.

“What did I say?” He mused a little proudly, dusting his hands, “fixed in a flash.”

You turned your head away from where you had been color coding detergent boxes to gaze at the laundry machine, lips parted a little in awe.

“Wow, that was fast!” You chirped as your eyes wandered away from the shiny new hinge, trying to ignore the way the veins in his forearms popped from exertion, trailing in looping rivers down to his scarred knuckles. “Still, it must have been hard work. Why don’t you stay for a cup of tea?”

His lips parted instantly, and you raised a hand before he could utter a word in reply.

“And don’t decline like you usually do,” you teased, raising a lone brow at him, lips spread into a smile, “please, it’s the least I can do.”

He hesitated, looking as torn and mildly uncomfortable as you’d ever seen him. But when his eyes met your serious gaze he sighed and nodded in resolute defeat.

“Alright. I’ll only stay a minute.”

Not fifteen minutes later you were lowering a delicate tea set onto the coffee table in the center of your living room.

Two teacups and matching saucers printed in a blushed pink floral pattern clinked lightly as you shuffled utensils, slotting a sugar bowl and a milk jug in a delicate matching pattern onto the tabletop alongside a plate of cookies and delicately sliced lemons.

Satisfied with the spread, you straightened up. Both hands folded neatly over your front as you turned to fix the man who stood like a statue at the mouth of the room with a heartfelt smile.

“Please have a seat,” you invited with a gentle wave of your hand, motioning to the empty lounge while you took a few steps back toward the kitchen, “You don’t mind if I get some prep for the kids done while we drink?”

“Sure, It’s your house doll,” Toji nodded as he moved, easing himself onto the far end of the couch looking mildly uncomfortable, though he tried to hide it, “go right ahead.”

Turning your back, you tugged open the fridge and plucked a bag free from the lower drawer, sniffing at the earthy scent of the fresh vegetables tucked within. You busied yourself preparing them - scrubbing the dirt loose in the sink before you plucked a knife from the block and set the bundle atop a clean cutting board.

“I hope the tea is to your liking, Fushiguro-san.”

You spoke over the island as you worked, benefits of an open plan house meant you could chat while your guests relaxed, not that you entertained much these days.

When you peered over you found him gazing suspiciously at the contents of the cup before he took a slow sip, breath curling in steaming tendrils as he exhaled. You watched the shape of his shoulder slump a little with the breath, and he gazed at the teacup with a newfound appreciation as he lowered it back down to the saucer.

“It’s great,” he replied.

You smiled. “Excellent.”

You found yourself humming a little as you worked - dutifully slicing the vegetables into a range of shapes. Carrots became rows of soldiers, cucumbers sweet little hearts.

“So tell me Fushiguro-san,” you continued after a few minutes filled only by the sound of your steady chopping and his slow sips of tea, “how did you come to be so good with your hands?”

“I’ve taken a lot of odd jobs in my time,” came his voice from the lounge, “picked up a little something from all of ‘em.”

You made an appreciative sound, plucking another carrot free from the bag.

“Should teach me sometime,” you mused as you began to dice again, mind filling with pictures of your neighbor at work, that muscled form sweat soaked and strained, all filtered in a soft dreamy light, “I’m sure there’s a lot to lear- ouch!” 

You cut the sentence off with a hiss, blade clattering to the countertop. Your hands screwed tightly together at the sudden burst of stinging pain, severing the flow of blood to the finger you’d just sliced through.

Before you could blink Toji had shot to his feet, teacup abandoned to its little saucer, and by your next shuddered breath he was close, closer than you think you’d ever been to him. Big hands dwarfed your trembling ones, and he eased your finger out from when you were cradling it, eyes narrowed in assessment.

You watched his face, the twitch of his dark brows, and realized peering up at him then that you’d never noticed how green his eyes were, like little chips of jade as he peered down at your wound in scrutiny.

“Just a surface wound,” he diagnosed, voice light with relief and a touch of humor, “I think you’ll live.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, finding it difficult to conjure your voice with the way your pulse was racing, “I must have gotten distracted.”

“Stop apologizing so much,” he rumbled, eyes still down turned in scrutiny.

His hand slid, thumb teasing along your palm until his fingers closed around your wrist. You watched, a little dumbly, your lips pursed into a soft little ‘o’, as he lifted your bloody finger to his mouth.

You made an undignified sound high in your throat when the pad of your finger hit his tongue, doubly so for the tender sting of your cut against the wet heat of his mouth. You realized with a jolt of warmth that he was watching you, lips curled into a sly smile around the intrusion of your finger.

As quickly as it had occurred, he had slipped your finger from his mouth, instead thumbing at your palm like he were reading the lines etched there.

“No need to waste a plaster,” he murmured, eyes not leaving yours, “Y’know saliva has mild healing properties?”

You shook your head dumbly, still a little awestruck.

“No, I didn’t know that,” you breathed.

“You were right then, lots to learn, huh?” He smiled, an easy toothy smile that had the beginnings of butterflies thumping in your stomach. Your eyes flitted down to watch his lips part, ears pricked to hear his reply only for his mouth to settle into a smooth line. You blinked, and his expression had hardened, eyes turned back to stone, sharp and smooth as he peered over your head at something beyond your vision.

You craned your head to see why had him so prickled, and found a familiar face gazing back at you from the entryway.

Swallowing thickly, you took a few soft steps backward and tugged your arm free in favor of hugging yourself, mouth settled into a smooth line as you addressed your ex-husband.

“Geto,” You greeted. The lone word left you a little breathlessly, tone thick with familiarity, and yet still a little wrong - like a harp with a single string out of tune. You straightened, spine tugged up straight as an arrow, hands busied brushing nonexistent lint from your apron. “I’m sorry, I must have lost track of the time.”

You could feel Toji’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your skull, hotter still when he heard the sound of an apology begin to form on your tongue, a sound that was beginning to become familiar.

You were really standing here in your own home apologizing to this deadbeat?

“I’ll just get the girls,” You cleared your throat and took a few steps toward the kitchen window, chin lifted to call out through the screen. “Mimiko, Nanako - it’s time to go. Go and get your bags please!”

Left momentarily alone, Toji was the first to break the silence.

“Didn’t hear you knock,” he said smoothly, gazing down his nose at the man across the room. He looked relatively casual, unbothered. Though if you’d been close enough you could have caught the way the muscle in his thick jaw twinged beneath the press of his teeth.

Your ex-husband flashed a polite yet flat smile, hand lifted to flash a set of glittering keys, which he jangled lightly for effect.

“Let myself in.” He replied, eyes roaming in mild interest, the way you might peer down at a particularly interesting looking bug, “I don’t think I know you.”

“I’m the neighbor,” Toji answered, “just came over to help with some repairs.”

Geto’s eyes narrowed as they roamed the scene, though his tight smile didn’t fade, not even when his gaze settling on the tea set laid over the table.

“Repairs, huh…”

The air was thick when you turned back around. It was like the setup to some awful joke. You, your control freak ex husband, and your blisteringly hot neighbor walk into your living room…

You could feel a headache brewing, sharp and pounding, poking like an ice pick in the cavernous space behind your eyes. You’d wanted nothing more than to kiss your kids goodbye then trudge yourself to bed to sleep the weekend away, and maybe put on a fresh load of laundry. Now instead you found yourself stood in the middle of some sort of silent standoff between two emotionally constipated men.

Thankfully just as the start of some polite small talk was beginning to form on your tongue, the door to the back yard slid open and your two daughters burst through. They moved like a whirlwind through the doorway, tugging the screen closed behind them. Each had a backpack strung over either shoulder, their movement accented with the melodic jingle of little plastic key chains. You could hear them bickering, quiet biting comments that were becoming more and more sharp, quickly brewing into an argument.

With a sharp lungful of air exhaled swiftly through your nose, you forced a tight smile and strutted past the two men into the hall, easing into a squat so you were eye level with the twins.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, both hands raised to pet at either girls head, thumb smoothing down hairs messed from running around the yard, “aren’t you both excited to spend some time with daddy?”

Both girls nodded furiously, though their lips were warped into matching award-winning pouts.

“Yeah,” Nanako was the first to speak, “but you said I could hold bumblebee in the car.” She whined, pointing accusingly at the transformer clutched in Mimiko’s hands. It was hard to keep your composure, with the way her little bottom lip was beginning to tremble.

“Mimiko,” you began, voice soft as you addressed the other girl, “we did talk about this, you remember? Why don’t you take your new doll instead?”

With a few more words that began to edge on stern by the end, and just a little more whining, both girls were soon skipping out of the front door toward your ex husbands car - a sleek black coupe he certainly hadn’t owned during your seven years of marriage - each with a toy clutched proudly in their little hands.

You lingered by the doorway like an unfulfilled spirit, lips still tingling from where you’d pressed them to either girls foreheads in farewell. You traced your mouth, feeling the skin there soft like a petal against your fingertips. You always found it hard to say goodbye, even for such a small span of time as a single weekend.

Geto paused beside you in the doorway for a moment, watching the two girls climb into the backseat, before he turned around to face you once again.

Toji watched the scene play out from the living room. He watched your ex-husband’s eyes rake greedily over your body, at your arms wrapped around your stomach, curled in on itself. He watched the way the man’s lips spread into that same serpentine smile he’d worn when he first entered your home, the way he took a few purposeful steps toward you - crowding your space before he leaned down to murmur something low in your ear. 

Toji couldn’t see your expression, but he did catch the way the curve of your shoulders tightened all the same, stance rigid even when Geto finally stepped back over the threshold and you swung the door closed with a somewhat desperate ‘click!’.

With the two of you alone, once again that heavy permeating silence settled over the space. So thick that you felt it in your throat when you swallowed, dry and sharp like you’d gone days without water. Again, Toji was the first to break it.

“He’s got a key?” He questioned, a little unexpectedly, “You don’t think that’s a little unsafe?”

You rubbed a hand across your brows, paused where you were still poised by the front door with your arms wrapped like a blanket around yourself and your eyes screwed tightly shut. 

“I don’t think I need advice from a stranger, but thankyou,” you bit, maybe a little harsher than necessary, “Next time I want critique, I’ll ask.”

A beat of silence passed, heavy in the air between you before Toji whistled lowly.

You sighed, feeling your energy leak out along with the exhalation. Toji watched you move then, tired steps across the room until you slipped back behind the countertop, eyes lowered and hands busily shifting the dirtied utensils to the sink.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” you murmured after another few beats of contemplative silence, looping lashings of dish soap over the dishes, over the knife still smeared with your blood. “It’s the stress talking. Please forgive me.”

Toji followed you into the kitchen. A few lazy strides and he was leaning back into the opposite counter, expression hidden behind your back.

“‘S’alright,” he mused, voice a little softer now, “just saying - if anything happens, you come straight to me, okay?”

Your chest felt tight, throat burning with a rising wave of emotion. You were grateful that you had your back to him, the angle shielding the way your eyes were starting to water.

“Thankyou,” you replied, pleased when your voice came out steady despite the slight wobbling of your lower lip.

Toji considered you for a moment in silence, thick forearms crossed casually over his chest.

“Gotta say though, you do look a little tense.”

That earned him a chuckle.

“Y’think?” You replied, half laughing, half exasperated.

“Yeah,“ he agreed, and you could hear the smile teasing at the edge of his voice, “must be hard, taking care of them on your own like this. You ever get any time for yourself?”

You snorted, unable to quite stop yourself from smiling along with him, though you kept your gaze fixed firmly on the dishes, on the way heaping clusters of soft bubbles were beginning to form beneath the spray.

“Hah, now that’s funny,” You replied, lashes fluttering as the steam filtered upward, sweet with the lightly citrusy scent of the dish soap.

“No?” He pushed, “you don’t do anything at all to relieve all that stress?”

With the nearness of his words you realized suddenly just how close he was, evidently having taken a few steps toward you while you were occupied with the white noise of the tap drumming against the sink.

Just as you had worked up the courage to turn back around, you felt it - the slow press of his hands as they came to rest gently over either of your shoulders. You froze mid turn of the tap, fingers wrapped tightly around the spigot, unable to quite stop the way your breath caught in your throat.

“You know I’m good with my hands,” he assured, voice a low rumble just as soothing and warm as his touch, “no pressure, you say the word and I’m gone.”

“You’ve already done so much, and I-“

“Shhh,” he hushed, and you could hear every syllable of his next sentence closely now with the water stilled, “allow yourself something nice, just this once.”

Each big palm felt warm as hot stones as they moved, beginning to draw slow circles into the tense points of your shoulders. His thumbs rolled simultaneously, firm circles converging at the notches of your spine. Your head dipped forward, and it took every inch of your withering self restraint not to let free the breathy moan already forming on your tongue.

“Is this pressure alright?” Came his voice from behind you, dropped low enough that you strained a little to hear it properly. 

Not trusting your own voice, you simply nodded your head in reply.

“Good.”

He continued thumbing at the tender knots in your back, hands big and warm and just calloused enough to feel rough whenever his fingers dipped innocently beneath the neckline of your blouse.

With his sudden closeness you could catch the scent of him, a subtle tinge of fresh sweat, though not unpleasant. Just a little earthy where he’d been digging up garden beds. You leaned into it, catching the remnants of something cool and masculine lingering beneath. It was oddly comforting, the sort of profile you hadn’t smelt in a long time.

”This is… this is nice… thankyou Fushiguro,” you managed, grateful that your voice remained relatively steady despite how clearly breathless you were.

”Just being a good neighbor, doll,” he replied smoothly.

You all but melted into the touch, fingers gripping the benchtop for dear life as you tried to maintain composure while receiving what was likely the most contact you’d experienced in months, maybe even years at this point. Certainly nobody had taken their time with you like this since your divorce, well before then if you considered the countless nights your marital bed lay figuratively and literally cold. 

Before you could take a nosedive into that looming rabbit hole of memory, a roaming thumb dug into a particularly tight knot and you gasped aloud. Mortified, you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Sorry,“ you swallowed hard, lips brushing against your clasped fingers, “that spots a bit tight.”

He hummed lightly somewhere behind you.

“Yeah, you do feel a little tight, doll,” he chuckled, “don’t worry though, don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

His hands resumed their slow massage, and you squeezed your eyes closed against the sudden dizzying wave of desire rolling over you. It coiled like a writhing serpent, heated and sticky in your belly.

“Poor thing, you really don’t get any relief do you?” Toji continued, hands still rubbing dutifully over your swiftly softening shoulders. “So what’s your vice, huh sweetheart? There’s gotta be something. You drink? Smoke? Nah, don’t seem like the type.” 

Your fingers curled and flexed over the bench top, beginning to heat, clammy beneath the press of your fingers. Here he was helping you out of the goodness of his heart, and you and your filthy sex-denied mind could do nothing but dream about what those rough hands would feel like dipping just a little lower, how that graveled voice might sound hitched with pleasure. 

Toji hummed, a rogue finger slipping beneath the delicate strap biting into the skin of your shoulder.

“Maybe you just get off, is that it? Maybe I’m not the only man you invite over under the guise of innocent household repairs and tea, hm?”

You let out a sharp, shocked sound, and lifted your head with the intention to spin around and face the man accusing you of such debauchery, only to find yourself utterly frozen beneath the press of his palms.

“C’mon, don’t act so coy,” he cooed, the firmness of his hold keeping you facing forward, “I saw those panties. Those aren’t sweet little stay at home mom panties. Those are ‘bend me over the kitchen counter and spank me ‘till I cry’ panties.”

“Don’t be crude, there are no other men,” You stuttered in return, unable to quite hide the way your voice trembled, “I bought those for myself.”

“So you just take care of yourself then, huh? All on your own?” He hummed, the fingers of one hand teasing up to clasp over your nape. “You slide into bed after everyone’s asleep and tug open that beside drawer of yours, don’tcha?”

You could do nothing but shiver beneath his touch, beneath his words, curling hot and salacious over the shell of your ear. He took your shuddered breath as confirmation, and his grin only stretched wider at the revelation.

“Lemme guess - a little vibrator. Something small and quiet, discrete like.”

You couldn’t help the little whine that slipped free, the purr of his voice in your ear and the way his thumbs were still drawing circles into your tender muscle was enough to knock your knees.

“Yeah, it’s probably real cute. Just like you, huh?”

You felt the weight of him shift behind you, a thick wall of heat pressed suddenly to your back. He walked you a few steps forward until your belly hit the island bench. The cool marble cutting into your hips in stark contrast to the warmth of his hands as they slid downward and began to tease at the soft curve of your waist, toying with the apron knot tied there.

“Or maybe it’s the washing machine. Is that why you were so keen for me to fix it? Do you put a load on deep clean, hike that skirt up and press your cute little clit against the corner? Grind on it like some needy bitch in heat until you cum your brains out?”

“That’s obscene,” you gasped, face blazing.

“Obscene, huh?” He echoed, so quietly you strained to hear it, too consumed by the feeling of his lips brushing your neck, the delicate scratch of stubble there. “I’m starting to think you like ‘obscene’, doll.”

You felt his lips part then, breath warm and sticky against your skin before he pressed a slow open mouthed kiss just below your earlobe.

“Oh…” you sighed, the sound highpitched and a little breathless. “Hah-… Fushiguro…”

Before you could quite fathom, kisses had turned to gentle suckling, his tongue laving hotly over your delicate skin until you were sure there was a spattering of dark slippery marks there.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me Toji?” He murmured into your skin between kisses, teeth grazing the spot he’d been suckling, sharp and dangerous against your throat.

“-ah… Toji…” you moaned.

He all but purred in response, a satisfied rumble that you felt against your back.

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep sayin’ my name, just like that.”

His hands roamed freely now, slipping from your waist to tug at the string knotted at your tailbone, working his fingers between the loops until it slipped free and sent your apron cascading down your shoulders, pooling between your slippers.

“Look at you, playing sweet little housewife,” he murmured into your hair, the delicate sensation sending a flurry of goosebumps prickling down your neck. “But your nobody’s wife anymore, are you doll?”

You couldn’t help the honest to god whimper that left you at his words, the icy cut of truth. Tenfold when you felt his hands slide up your belly and come to rest over either breast, where he began to massage the tender flesh in greedy heaping fistfuls.

“How long’s it been since someone touched you like this?” He murmured, running a fingernail over and then pinching gently at either sensitive nipple through the fabric, just to feel the way you jerked against him.

“T-too long.” You managed between a sucking gasp, hands gripping the edge of the counter so tight that your knuckles ached with the effort.

His hands slipped lower, groping shamelessly at your ass, your thighs - at the slip of plump fat peeking out below your modest skirt.

“C’mon, spread ‘em for me.” He prompted, toeing at the inside of your bare ankle.

On wobbling legs you shimmied your feet apart, and simultaneously a big hand came to rest on your lower back, rubbing soothingly up the line of your spine before he pressed down at the crux.

“Arch it now, c‘mon, you still remember how don’tcha doll?”

Swallowing hard, you leaned forward, following the pressure of his palm until your chest hit the countertop and your hips lifted into a sinful arch. The sensation was palpable - the marble smooth and cool against your skin through your blouse, tickling where his fingers had pinched your nipples to sensitive little peaks.

With a pleased sound, his hand shifted, slipping down to instead tug at the hemline of your skirt, hiked a little higher now thanks to your vulnerable position. He slid the fabric up slowly, revealing more and more of your silky skin, the air pebbling it to goosebumps before finally he hit the curve of your ass, and he paused.

“Well well, what do we have here?”

A snort sounded from behind you, and you buried your head in the crook of your arms with the realisation of what he was surely seeing.

“Oh my god,” you whined frantically, shaking your head, face beginning to heat, “just hurry up and take them off!”

Instead of doing as you asked, he looped a thick finger beneath the tie of your cheetah print bikini bottoms, and tugged back far enough that when he released it the elastic snapped against the skin of your hip. You jerked forward at the nip of pain, frowning backward at him from over the curve of your shoulder.

“Nah, need a good look at these first,” he chuckled, flourishing the taunt with a low whistle that had your blood pumping ever hotter. “Scandalous, sweetheart. You wear these to the local pool?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed furiously, stuttering a little as he began to grope greedy handfuls of your bare ass, “can you-hn!- imagine what the other moms would say?”

“Mhmmm, oh yeah,” he purred, admiring the way the patterned material bunched beneath his grasp, “can just hear the jealous hags now.”

He ran a thumb ever so softly down the centre of your cheeks, tracing where the fabric dipped into what had become a rather cheeky g-string. The bikini had fit modesty at some point in your life, though those years were long behind you now - body filled out and softened now with the passage of time and the demands of motherhood.

“Y’know they talk big, talk mean, because deep down they’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” You mouthed, peeking over your shoulder with lifted brows.

He tugged one looped tie of the waistband free, drinking in the sight of your newly bare skin as the fabric slid down with half-lidded and hungry eyes.

“Mhm, ‘cause you’re the hottest woman in the whole damn town,” he hummed, “and whaddya think they’re gonna say when they find out what we’re doing right now, huh?”

He finally worked the last knot of the bikini bottoms loose, letting the sinful cheetah print slide down your thighs and land in a crumpled heap at your feet beside your apron. You buried your face into the countertop, breaths coming heavy now with the cool air kissing your now utterly bare lower half.

“The perfect little devoted mother letting a man like me bend her over her kitchen counter…”

His fingers replaced the delicate brush of his thumb and slipped down between your spread legs, teasing over your bare slit. You choked out an incoherent plea, for what exactly you weren’t sure, though any thought slipped away entirely when his fingertips found your clit and you all but collapsed into the bench at the contact, soft belly and forehead pressed hard against the marble. 

“Oh, Toji…” you groaned into the countertop, lips grazing the cool surface, humid now with your panting breath. 

You were suddenly thankful that he hadn’t turned you over, hadn’t guided you into the bedroom with peppered kisses and plush sheets. You didn’t need gentle right now. Didn’t need soft sweet missionary while holding hands - you needed the bite of teeth and the graze of nails, calloused hands gripping tight until you bruised. You needed hard and rough and wrong, and thankfully Toji Fushiguro was all of those things. 

“That stupid bastard doesn’t know what he’s missin’…” Toji growled, fingers beginning to rub tight little circles into you, “leaving you all alone ‘n empty like this, its just not right.”

You couldn’t answer, mind utterly empty aside from the feeling of his rough fingers grazing over your long neglected clit, the way you could feel yourself flutter when he dipped inside just an inch to slick his fingers with you before he was smearing it back over your twitching nub.

“‘S’okay, I’m here now, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

With his spare hand he tugged one of your legs up until you got the hint and lowered your knee to the countertop. His thumb hooked beneath your leg, pressing down to spread you ever wider.

He whistled, gazing greedily down at the sight of you spread so easily below him. Eyes drinking in the stretch marks striping over your waist, scars silvery in the cool light, the spattering of little dimples worn into the fat of your thighs and your ass. His other hand continued to work dutifully between your thighs, each rub beginning to sound sticky with the effort.

“Look at you, look so perfect like this,” He lifted a thumb, pressing the digit to your puckered rim.

You moaned something unintelligible, rocking back onto his hand, forcing his fingers to slip up through your folds - now painted in the sticky mess of your arousal. He chuckled behind you, watching the way you were all but grinding yourself on his fingers.

With a suddenness that made you whine he tugged his hand free, and the delicious pleasure of his touch was gone along with the simmering heat creeping to a boil in your belly.

“Don’t have any condoms, sweetheart,” he murmured regretfully like he had any intention at all to stop. 

“Doesn’t matter, promise I’m clean,” you pleaded, wiggling your hips like you could glean just a lick of friction from the motion, though the only thing it earned you was the mild slide of the countertop beneath, “please Toji, need to feel you, all of you.”

Toji groaned behind you, and a hand came to rest over your ass, pinching lightly before he applied a light slap just to watch the motion ripple over your plump skin.

“Fuck, doll,” he breathed, “you’re making it real hard for me t’ make good choices right now,”

Then came the metallic hum of a zipper being tugged slowly downward. If nothing else the sound was a trigger, stoking the pulsing throb between your thighs, so incessant now that it was beginning to ache.

Before you could offer any further words of encouragement, you felt it - a thick heat pressed against your rear. Toji, slotting his hips against yours. With a thrilled little zip of adrenaline you realized he wasn’t going to bother with working you open slowly, he wasn’t going to sweetly and tenderly stretch you with each of his fingers like a real lover might. What you felt now slipping through your slick folds was him, all of him - plain and simple and raw.

“Take a deep breath, sweetheart,” he murmured, breath hot against your skin.

You could barely hear the words for the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears. Acquiescing, you parted your lips and sucked in a long lungful of air.

Toji waited until he heard your breath begin to fray at the edges - air drawn into the very corners of your lungs - before he nudged forward and knocked it clean out of you.

You choked on the next breath, struck by a searing sting as he pushed inside. Inch after inch after thick inch stretched you wider than you’d been in years. It was stunning, the culmination of sensation - the solid press of his broad form against your back, the weight of him sinking inside. Hot and tight and utterly consuming, a cocktail of feelings you’d long since forgotten.

“Oh god, Toji…” you whined, the sound pitched high and breathy, squirming against the marble, though his presence left very little space to move.

“Sh, that’s it, just a little more,” he shushed, though there was nothing soothing about the harsh press of his hips, “Shhh… nearly there, just let me…”

And with a final firm nudge, you were full.

“There you go, mmm-… that’s it sweetheart, good girl.”

To his credit, he allowed you a few moments grace just to acclimatize. You could feel him, every inch. Every pulsing vein decorating that thick shaft, every indulgent curve, the sticky head kissing so deep that a delicious little ache was beginning to bloom alongside the desirous pit of heat in your gut. 

“There you go,” he soothed, “just relax.”

You barely had the wherewithal to comprehend the cocktail of sensations before he was moving, rocking his hips in tight shallow little thrusts against your rear, kept nice and deep.

“Hm! Mhm! Hah.. ah!…” the sounds slipped free without thought, without care, knocked loose by each new buck of his hips.

“Fuck sweetheart, can see why you got so many kids,” Toji grunted, hand clenched into a fist over your skirt, scrunched into a bundle at your waist, “I’d never wanna pull outta this perfect fuckin’ pussy either.”

Your brain might have forgotten what it felt like to be fucked properly, but your body certainly hadn’t. Despite the lack of prep, despite the years you’d been left empty and neglected - your slick walls still sucked him in easily, pussy stretched and clenching desperately around his length like it was made just to take him.

“Oh god… there Toji, -hah-… hn… right there!” You cried, jostling limply back and forth with the force it.

Your bare toes curled where they were splayed limply to the side, slipper long since knocked free, abandoned along some stretch of tile. The other was beginning to come loose, slipping from your dangling foot with each thrust as you found yourself pushed further and further along the countertop.

“Right here?” He teased, hips angled until he hit a spot so tender that your eyes rolled into your skull and your lashes fluttered, “Yeah, feels good, huh mommy?”

You whined with a limp nod, slack jawed. The skin of your cheek slid over the smooth countertop, jammed forward with each firm thrust, the marble slick and wet with your pooling spit.

“Oh, you like that do ya'?”

His steady movements slowed to a torturous roll. Long aching thrusts pulled out until just the tip remained, before he slid back inside so deep that your legs were sent into a pleasured wobble.

“Wanna be a mommy again, ‘s that it? C’mon then mommy, show me just how bad you want it.”

You barely had the wherewithal to answer, certainly not enough to shatter the illusion by telling him your tubes were tied. So instead you simply ignored the trembling of your legs and pushed backward, hips rolling to meet each of his firm thrusts.

For maybe the first time since you'd met the man, you watched Toji stutter. For a few long moments he did nothing but watch you fuck yourself open on him through low-lidded eyes, using him shamelessly as he stood slack jawed, utterly lost in the rhythmic vision of himself disappearing inside only to slip back out glossy and coated with you.

It was only when you whined that he was tugged back to reality, his hand coming to grope at the fat of your ass, slamming you back down on his cock, again and again until you squealed.

“Shit, that’s it… knew you had it in you..." He was panting now, words beginning to slur a little at the edges as he lost himself in your silky heat.

You nodded your head mindlessly, squeaking out a sharp noise of surprise when his palm came down to slap the swell of your ass, hard. The sizzle of pain dipped lower instantly, dribbling into the pool of heat bubbling in your lower stomach.

You felt yourself clench with the residual sting of his handprint, and he groaned - leaning forward to drape his toned abdomen over the curve of your spine. You felt him nose at your nape, nipping lightly before his lips pressed flat and he began to suck a bruise into the fevered skin there. You writhed, smacking limply at the countertop either side of your head, fingers curled and nails scratching mindlessly into the glossy marble. 

“That sweet little housewife act, what a joke,” he huffed against your ear, “just about beggin’ me to bend you over, fuck you raw.”

He spoke the words into your skin like a promise, and you could feel his nose nudging at your nape, at the little hair curling there wet with sweat. His thrusts had softened somewhat, turned wide and sloppy at the edges as he instead ground himself into you. You simply squirmed against the weight of him, clenching and twitching helplessly around his cock.

“Ah- ah! Hah! ha- ah!” You panted, sweet little sizzles of pleasure zipping down your spine each time he rocked your forward and the motion forced your clit against the counter, rubbing in a slick glide over the marble, sticky where your collective arousal was beginning to pool. 

“Gonna give it t’ me aren’t you?” He pleaded, clearly just as gone as you were, “gonna let me cum inside, huh mommy? Gonna gimme another baby?”

Another? You didn’t have time to question him, didn’t have time to  think about anything at all, not with the way your belly was burning - a hot sizzling ache set to spill over with just one more thrust, just one more…

“Shit!” He cursed, and your own eyes rolled skyward.

With a final particularly vicious buck your vision went white as a snowbank, and suddenly you were cumming, hard. Harder than you think you’d cum in years. Shit, maybe decades.

You felt his forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades as he collapsed, muttered out a string of curses and low groans as he rutted himself into you, hips stuttering in a wild hump. You could feel him pulsing deep inside, throbbing in hard little kicks against your clenching walls as he filled you.

Your head was fuzzy with the heat of it, and your ears rung with the hot rush of your own pulse. The kitchen was silent aside from your collective panting, and your own breathy moans as you rode out the residual sparks of pleasure, twitching mindlessly around where he was still buried deep inside. 

He laid over you like a concrete slab for a few moments, body firm and hot, chest sticking to your back. Even through the fabric you could feel the heat of him, the delicate tap of his pulse against your shoulder blades.

With an almost pained grunt he lifted himself up and slipped from you, though his hands remained braced around your hips, a steady presence as you eased yourself back to your feet.

The cool tile kissed your bare soles for only a few seconds before you were lifting a hip to the counter and sliding atop it, grimacing only a little at the slick squelch of your collective spend soiling the marble.

You took a moment to indulge in the sight of him, and he gazed back at you with half-lidded eyes, looking messed and a little drunk in the afterglow. His hair hung in inky strands over his eyes, cheek bones flushed and tanned skin warmed to a rosy pink. Just the same as when he’d greet you after a long afternoon spent pulling weeds and planting fresh sprouts in his garden, all sun-kissed and sweat dappled, gorgeous.

“Could you pass me my purse, please?” You asked, nodding your head to the bag tucked on the counter behind him.

He lifted a brow at you but offered no words of argument, hand lowered to tuck himself back into his jeans and tug the zipper up as he turned to retrieve the bag. You drank in the sight greedily, the sinful curve of his muscled back, waist turned to nothing but a narrow slip with the severe angle. You managed to tear your eyes free just as he spun around to face you again, taking a few steps forward to slip the bag into your outstretched hands.

“Thankyou,” you praised as you tugged the clasp open, rummaging through the purse for a few moments before you pulled out a well-worn pack of cigarettes.

Plucking one loose, you slotted it between your plump bitten lips and abandoned the pack to the counter. When you lifted your head you found that Toji was grinning.

Tilting your head, you lifted an eyebrow, wiggling the stick between your lips expectantly. Toji chuckled, hand already stuffed into his back pocket to fish a lighter free. He shook his head, still smiling, and stepped forward. One hand clasped around the old Zippo, and the other cupped around your mouth in a motion that felt practised. With a metallic flicker your face was illuminated with a warm glow. His fingertips grazed your cheek, and you sucked in a slow mouthful, watching from beneath your lashes at the cherry sizzling to life.

Toji stepped backward and flicked the lighter closed, watching you lift a hand, delicate fingers closed around the stick. You pulled the cigarette free and exhaled, and with the swirl of smoke between your teeth came a low satisfied sound. Toji watched the tendrils of smoke cloud your face, then flitter skyward.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you doll?” He mused, jade eyes glinting as he stepped in close, one palm planted either side of you, caging you against the counter.

As he moved his finger hooked over the lip of one of your delicate teacups, which he tugged along until it came to rest beside your relaxed thigh. 

Your lips lifted to a smile, and you turned, twisting a little to tap the singed end of the cigarette into the cup, watching it dissolve into the remnants of tea still swirling at the bottom.

With your movement came a sticky squelch, and both of your eyes dropped instantly to the source of the sound. You spread your legs slightly, spare hand lowered to lift the hem of your skirt. Toji barely managed to swallow the sharp sound that threatened to escape him at the reveal of your bare cunt. Your swollen folds, the spatter of coiling hair smeared with your shared arousal, the sight of his spend beginning to leak out of you in hot milky dribbles.

You sighed, lower lip pushed into a pout as you watched the mess that was forming on the countertop between your legs. “I’m going to have to clean again.”

Without word Toji lowered himself to his knees, hands abandoning the counter to instead wrap around either of your thighs and tug you to the edge.

You took another drag and peered down at him through the curling tendrils of smoke. The sight of him kneeling beneath you - thick thighs lightly spread, eyes peering up at you from beneath dark lashes - was enough to send a fresh jolt of desire through your aching body.

You bit your lip, feeling your pussy twitch with interest, and from the look of his quickly tightening jeans you imagined that he wasn’t very far behind you. 

your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.

princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.

they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.

you were used to it.

but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.

and you'd felt hope.

you hate yourself for that hope now.

because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.

but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?

it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.

the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.

but you can't navigate him.

you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.

tonight was bad.

you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.

then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.

and the whispers.

you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.

"the blind empress."

"does he even notice her?"

"i heard he hasn't touched her once."

"what a waste of a pretty face."

"she must be so lonely."

"she must be so pathetic."

you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.

but inside, you were crumbling.

and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.

does he ever sleep?

you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.

a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.

and you can't take it anymore.

"ryomen?"

your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.

silence.

you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.

just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.

"what."

it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.

you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.

"i...i want to ask you something."

more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.

"ask."

you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.

"do you hate me?"

the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.

"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?

"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"

"stop."

the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.

but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.

and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.

you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.

"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"

"quiet."

his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.

"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"

you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.

a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.

"open your eyes."

the command catches you off guard. "what?"

"your eyes. open them."

you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.

"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."

"i can't see you."

"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."

please.

the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?

you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.

"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."

your heart stutters. "then why—"

"because i'm fuckin' terrified."

you blink. "what?"

"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."

"but—"

"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"

his voice drops to a whisper.

"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."

tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.

but he was...

...afraid?

"you don't hate me?" you whisper.

"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."

a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.

"but you never—you never talked to me—"

"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."

"then don't stop."

the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.

"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."

sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.

"you don't know what you're asking."

"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."

"i'll hurt you."

"i don't care."

"i'll break you."

"i don't care."

his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.

the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.

he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.

he pulls back, breathless.

"tell me to stop, and i will."

"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."

he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.

"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."

your breath catches. "ryomen—"

"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."

you nod, unable to speak.

his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.

"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."

you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.

"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."

he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.

"more," you gasp. "please—"

"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."

he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.

"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"

"yes," you whimper. "only you."

he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.

"tell me what you want."

"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."

his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"

"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"

"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."

he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.

and then his tongue touches you.

you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."

he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.

"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."

his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.

you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.

when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.

"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."

his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.

"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"

"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."

he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.

"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"

"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."

he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.

"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."

"okay."

"promise me."

"i promise."

he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.

he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.

"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."

you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.

just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.

"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."

he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—

a sharp pain.

fuck...you forgot.

you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.

"did i hurt ya'?"

you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.

blood.

his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.

"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"

you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"

"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."

"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."

"you're fuckin' bleeding."

"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.

he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."

but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.

when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.

"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."

"move," you beg. "please."

he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.

"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"

"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"

"yes—yes—"

his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.

"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."

he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.

"more," you gasp. "harder—"

"y'sure?"

"yes—please—"

he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.

"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"

"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"

he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.

at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.

he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.

"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."

you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.

"i love you too."

a long moment passes. then another. and then—

"we're going to do that again."

you laugh, breathless.

"right now?"

"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."

"promise?"

he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.

"promise."

you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.

"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."

you smile against his skin.

"my husband."

"forever."

"forever."

2026 ── 𝓦𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 @atelphobist 𝜗ৎ

ᥫ᭡ | © 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘪.

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

“Looks fuckin’ nice in these shorts,” he says absentmindedly, smiling as he gave your ass a firm squeeze.

“Stop that,” you swat his hand away again.

“Quit acting like that hurt,” he scolds you, face softening as his hand goes back, again. “Love this ass—m’gonna fuck it one of these days.”

“Kuna!” you gasp, stunned by his sudden boldness when he’s nothing but reserved with you in public. “No you’re not—“

“Kiss me,” he cuts you off, his big hands now pulling you in by the waist.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No?!” You start to shove him away, which does nothing but make him laugh, especially when you look back at your friends who find themselves more than entertained by seeing this side of your relationship.

“The fuck are you looking at Shoko for? She’s not gonna save you from me—isn’t that right Shoko?” he raises his tone as he asks.

“Yeah, I’d rather not.”

“That’s what I thought.” He grins as he turns his attention back to you. “You see that, baby? She doesn’t give a fuck about you. Nobody does. Just me.”

And you laugh, because this is how he always teases you when you’re alone. “You sure it’s just not because everyone’s scared of you?”

“Good. You should be scared of me too, sweetheart,” he responds, as if it drives his point home. “Now give me my fuckin’ kiss.”

There’s a low groan that rumbles through his chest when you finally do kiss him, as if he’d been waiting for one the whole night. He grabs your jaw, slips his tongue into your mouth, drags it on for longer than it should’ve been.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmurs.

“Get a room, freaks,” Gojo yells out from the kitchen.

“Fuck off,” Sukuna easily cuts himself. “We’re going home so I can fu—”

“We never agreed to that?!”

notes: idek i haven’t written for sukuna in months and immediately wrote this when the idea popped up