The Tikiri maree kid @ijustwantavacation - Tumblr Blog

but i'm into it

pairing: boyfriend!sukuna x crazygf!reader

synopsis: sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. he’s calmer, less eager to fight. change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home that’ll tell you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row.

cw: MDNI, toxic relationships, smut, rom-com(ish), sukuna is constantly fucking around and finding out, he likes where he's at tho, even when reader hits him with a car, oral (m receiving), mating press

notes: 5.6k w/c. commission for the lovely @plsstopsworld i hope u likey <3

Sukuna was convinced that you found joy in terrorizing him.

Do not tell him that he could just simply leave, either— there’s no point. He’ll just go back to you in the end. He always does, that’s the unfortunate part of being in love with you. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s his karma for all the crazy, borderline illegal shit he’s done. He was allowed love, but it came at a cost— a girlfriend who had the ability to make his heart race with fear. Sometimes it gets him hard, sometimes it doesn’t. He doesn’t have much control over it.

He doesn’t have control over much, really.

But like he said, he loves you. You are very lovely to be around most of the time, so it makes up for all of your less lovely qualities. It’s not like he has to deal with them much anyway, at least not since you’ve forbidden him from speaking in the first hour you’re awake. If you think about it, he has some control there since there’s always the option to poke the bear, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he chooses peace.

Sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. He’s calmer, less eager to fight. The man who once thrived in chaos now looks forward to the small moments of stillness life has to offer, often he goes out seeking for it. He’s more patient, has more control over himself.

Many people ask him how he did it, and he just shrugs. “Gettin’ old I guess,” he’ll sometimes tell people.

Truth is, he’d rather die than admit that change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home who tells you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row. He doesn’t need them thinking that’s another thing he’s not allowed to do. He is. You’ll even say bless you the first time he does it, you just get annoyed after the third one. It’s like Regina George and Satan had a baby when you’re annoyed, so he’s learned not to annoy you.

Crazy definitely has a look to it, like the eyes or something, but not always. Sometimes you find out the hard way, like Sukuna did, who, at a very ignorant time in his life, didn’t want to do dishes. He thought reminding you of who pays the most in rent and utilities would get him out of it. Instead, he found out that you had a kill switch for the part of your brain that feels empathy.

He slept on the couch that night, which was pointless because you committed to turning on the fire alarm every time he managed to fall asleep. Then he went out and bought a dishwasher the next morning, since he was going to be the one doing dishes for the next three months. He also had to buy a new set of dishes since there weren’t any to actually load the dishwasher with. You broke them all, save for the one you hurled at his head. You have great aim, by the way. He almost didn’t catch it.

That wasn’t the end of his day, though. The flower shop was supposed to be his last stop, but then he remembered you said something about feeling sorry for his mother, and thank god for Jin because she would’ve gone through labor for nothing, and thank god for Jin again because every parent needs at least one kid to be proud of, so he went ahead and bought his mother some flowers, too.

Then he finally went home. Getting the cold shoulder was expected and well deserved. So you could only imagine how unsettling it was when you smiled and welcomed him back home as if nothing ever happened. To this day, he doubts he needed to bring home any flowers.

It’d be nice to say that was the one and only time he’s ever fucked around and found out with you, but he’s not perfect. He still isn’t. The slip ups are rare, but they still happen, and he still never knows how you’ll react— sometimes it’s instant, you’ll blow up right then and there, then get over it an hour later. Other times it’s delayed, and you’ll shell out weeks' worth of time and effort purely for your entertainment.

Like when he got off work on a random Tuesday and spent half an hour walking around the parking garage, all pissed off because he couldn’t find his car. He thought some asshole stole it, filed a police report, and everything. Only to find out that you hid it in some random parking garage in some town a couple of hours away, and spent two entire months acting shocked about it despite shelling out $300 each month for the parking permit.

There was also the time he showed up to work on a Monday and learned that he had sent his boss a particularly nasty resignation email over the weekend. He got his job back, but it took a good amount of convincing since his boss didn’t believe that you’d do something like that. Sometimes he thinks about what would’ve happened if he couldn’t get his job back— you probably would’ve pushed him out of the house the very next day to look for a new one, since you refused to take on any more bills after that first fight.

He was convinced that was it. That your spite had reached its fullest potential when you fucked with his job, a.k.a both of your livelihoods, and it’ll surely make everything else after look like child’s play. He couldn't come up with anything worse than that, and it was a direct result of his limited creativity. There’s always room for improvement. You can alwaysbe worse.

You proved that when you hit him with his car.

All he was trying to do was stop you from leaving after an argument, and chose not to believe that you’d hit him if he didn’t move. Why would he? It’s not like he cheated on you. He never lied to you. He thought you were only saying that because you wanted to make him feel bad for yelling at you— that wasn’t a good enough reason to hit someone with a car. Especially when he didn’t even curse!

He had a little more faith in you than that.

Let’s say you did try, it'd probably just be a small tap. Your love may be questionable at times, but it was there, and you don’t want to send the person you love flying across the street. You care about him. The most you’d do is take your foot off the brake so your car could give him a little warning bump.

Then the smell of burning rubber hits his nose.

You stepped on the gas so god damn hard that the tires needed a second to gain traction.

Sukuna is 6 '4, a whopping 250 lbs of pure muscle. The sound of his tires screeching into the air before taking off made his life flash before his eyes. Despite being worried for a moment there, he was physically fine.

Spiritually, however? Not very good. You made it a personal goal to knock the fucking Mario coins out of him and then watched him get up on his own right after, absolutely distraught and barking about how he couldn’t believe you just did that to him.

He’s so pissed he doesn’t even realize you turned back around instead of leaving like you said you would.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHO DOES SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s like this— so far past the point of shock that he’s outraged, yelling as if he wanted God to truly grasp how bad of a day he’s having.

You’re still in the car, hand on the steering wheel, casually scanning over his burly frame for any bruising. “I told you to move three separate times.”

“SO YOU TRIED TO MURDER ME? I COULD’VE FUCKING DIED.”

“I wasn’t trying to murder you, Sukuna.” The accusation sounds ridiculous when you repeat it. Sure, you would’ve understood and agreed if it had come from someone else, but not Sukuna. He’s practically bulletproof with how quick he can bounce back. You wouldn’t have hit him if he wasn’t. “You’re fine, aren't you?”

“THAT DOESN’T CHANGE THE FACT THAT YOU JUST HIT ME WITH MY OWN CAR, YOU FUCKING SLUT.”

“This wouldn’t be an issue if you had just moved.” It’s simple, but the way you laughed while saying it just made you sound cruel. You weren’t trying to make fun of him— you just don’t know what he expected after you told him exactlywhat would happen if he didn’t step aside.

Sukuna should’ve taken his time getting back on his feet because you did not deserve reassurance in knowing what you did was technically okay. In fact, he shouldn’t have gotten up at all— you wouldn’t be laughing then if you had to watch him getting hauled off in an ambulance.

But no, he got nothing. No broken bones or fractures. No concussions, not even dizziness. Not even a scratch. He was alive and well, and that in itself only enabled your behavior. It pissed him off knowing there was nothing for you to see and feel guilt from as a result.

Instead, he received the complete opposite from you: Lust.

You took one good look at him later that night in the living room and went from thinking “who cares, he’s fine,” to something fucking crazy and along the lines of, “holy shit, getting hit by a car is nothing for him.” You didn’t even apologize— you just went straight to talking to him like he was some random chick at the bar.

Sukuna naturally thought that getting hit by a car would be a one-time thing. But your sudden shift in perspective made him realize that there’s nothing stopping you from doing it again if you wanted— he was done for, yet it wouldn’t be much of a surprise coming from you.

“What about your ribs?”

“Dunno. M’sure they’re fine.”

Your hands were already bunching up the bottom of his t-shirt, and like an idiot, he was allowing it, raising his arms so you could strip him down and pretend to “look” for bruises. You could’ve tried a little harder. Instead, you’re shamelessly running your fingers down the lines of his abs with some unhinged and sexually explicit thought running through your head.

“Evil whore.”

“What?”

Well fuck. He didn’t mean to say that outloud. No use in backtracking now, though.

“You heard me,” he grumbles, looking away. “Hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Oh no— never.” It’s not very convincing when you’re running your hand down his skin. “You sure you’re not in any pain?”

“Nope,” he boredly says.

“Good.” You try not to smile at how butthurt he sounds. “....Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Nope.” He repeats himself.

“You sure? You seem kinda pent up.”

“Positive.”

“Mad maybe?” You hummed as your fingers reached his waistband, tracing along the elastic.

He laughed in disbelief. “Now what could I possibly be mad about?”

The sarcasm easily slipped out. He was still pissed, rightfully so, throwing a miniature fit in the way he does best. By being condescending.

His laugh was met with a lighthearted shrug. “Well… at first I thought it was because I hit you. But I did tell you exactly what I’d do if you didn’t move, so I guess there is no reason to be mad.”

“Sure.” He continued to smile despite his tone flattening. “Even though you don’t actually need a reason to not hit someone.”

As if he wasn’t already annoyed, you decided to send him over the edge with a contemplative hum, as if it’d ever be up for debate. “I guess. A snake doesn’t need a reason to bite you either, but you still wouldn’t count on not getting bit because of some principle.”

He takes a deep breath in an attempt to push down his frustration. You are really testing him right now with that smart ass mouth of yours. “Yeah, but are you a wild animal?”

“Nope,” you smile, snapping the waistband of his boxer against his skin. “Wild animals don’t give you verbal warnings.”

“How kind of you,” he mutters, tone laced with sarcasm. “I’ll make sure to remember that next time you threaten to hit me.”

“Smart. It probably won’t happen again, though.”

He deadpans and stares off into space for a moment over how bleak and underpromising you made the statement sound. “...You say probably as if you don’t have control over the vehicle?”

“I mean, I do… but—”

“There is no ‘but’, that’s a fact,” he stutters out of frustration as he begins to argue. “You put it in drive and smashed your foot on the gas pedal.”

“So you are mad?” Your lips purse together, innocently drawing circles over his stomach.

His brows pinch together, once again looking at you with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief. No shit he’s fucking mad, can still smell the rubber burning off his tires. You laughed at him once, and it is still haunting him. “Wouldn’t you be mad?”

“I don’t stand in front of the cars, so I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, pretending to be blind to his bubbling frustration.

He steps back and runs his hand down his face, fighting off the urge to gouge his eyes out. He knows exactly what you’re doing right now, and the answer’s no. You’re raigebaiting your way into getting dick. You don’t deserve it— plain and simple. There was no way in hell he was going to reward today’s behavior.

“That’s not the point. You don’t hit people with cars just because you can.” You’re lucky he’s even letting you touch him right now— you should be in jail. He leans in and taps his temple, eyes zeroing in on you. “How is that not getting through your head— it’s fucking wrong.”

“I know it’s wrong, I never said it wasn’t.” You tap at your temple the same exact way he did, and spell the next words out nice and slow. “That’s why you should move so it doesn’t happen.”

“I’m your BOYFRIEND,” he finally snaps, forgetting that’s what got him in this predicament to begin with. “I TAKE CARE OF YOU AND YOU SENT ME FLYING ACROSS THE STREET GOD DAMN IT.”

He wasn’t sent flying across the street, the reason for that being directly tied to how heavy he is. Not that you tell him that, the idea of you being the reason behind that is already tearing him apart enough. He’s also most likely embarrassed at those 2 seconds his feet were off the ground. Those must’ve been the longest 2 seconds of his life, given how he doesn’t get his world rocked too often.

“Alright, fine. I’m sorry–”

“FOR?”

Definitely embarrassed. You find yourself having to keep yourself from looking annoyed at the thought of him dragging out as big of an apology as he can from you for the sake of his bruised ego.

You close your eyes and sigh in preparation. “For thinking it was okay to hit you with a car when it shouldn’t even be a consideration in the first place.” His arms are crossed as he soaks up each and every word. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a mental list of points that needed to be brought up to make the apology valid. “It should’ve been off limits. You deserve to have peace in knowing our arguments won’t end with you getting struck down like a bowling pin.”

His face drops as he watches you needing to look away to keep yourself from laughing. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” you clear your throat.

“Tch– I don’t believe you anymore,” he grumbles.

“No! I’m being serious,” you swear, grabbing his arm with both hands as you try to get him to look at you. “I really am sorry.”

He takes one look at you and feels nothing but reluctance. “And you’re never gonna pull that shit again, right?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head, knowing you don’t actually know the answer to that. It doesn't do much in terms of setting him straight— all it did was make him more dramatic, but it was satisfying. You can’t see it happening again in the foreseeable future, but you can see yourself randomly remembering how durable he is after you two have forgotten this incident, and doing it again. You place your hands on his chest as you part your lips to make a promise you don’t mind breaking. “That is not something you have to worry about from here on out.”

“Alright.”

There’s a certain satisfaction missing from his tone when he mutters the word, and you realize it’s not just your imagination when he pulls his arm away from your hold to cross both of them against his chest. You’re not sure what more he could want, but the contemplative look on his face tells you he’s thinking about it right now.

He got the apology he wanted and your word that you’ll never do it again, yet he can’t help but feel like it came too easily, and that you should’ve worked a little harder. He’s pushing his luck again, he knows, buuut maybe today’s one of the days where he can get away with that. Sukuna just doesn’t exactly know what he wants.

Did he want to grill you some more, get some revenge over the new (and traumatic) memory you gave him? Or did he want to rid himself of some of his pent up tension that you pointed out? Fuck, then that’d mean his punishment for you would end before you even knew about it. He wanted to see your face after being told no.

Decisions, decisions.

Well he could also have you—

“Kay’,” you break him out of his thoughts, the satisfaction missing in his tone is crystal clear in yours. “I’m gonna go wash my face now.”

Whoa, hold on a minute?! It’s only been a few seconds, you see him thinking.

“No. Stay,” he murmurs.

There was a part of him that was hesitant about that working— there was a chance you’d slap the shit out of him for ordering you around like a dog. Seeing you murmur a little ‘ok’ and actually staying was a pleasant surprise, and confirmation that he could push it a little today. The only thing missing was some sort of regret or guilt on your face. It’s more like you’re just listening to him because you figured he deserved it for once with how bored you look.

Whatever. He’ll take what he can get.

He sighs. “The apology was nice and all, but I think you’re gonna have to prove how sorry you are with this one.”

You look at him like he’s a clown and huff out a laugh. “You want me to prove how sorry I am?”

“Mhm. You don’t have to, though,” he shrugs, voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Just figured you’d like the option since it’s either that, or wait until I actually forgive you to get fucked.”

He nearly laughs at the way that instantly wipes the smile off your face. It’s not often he tells you no— it shows in the way you struggle to come up with an answer. Not because you're speechless, you’re just trying to figure out what can be said to change his mind.

“So it’s either I beg for forgiveness or get punished because you can’t accept my apology?” You force out a small laugh, the regret that Sukuna’s been looking for finally peeking through in your voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You and me both, princess,” he says in amusement. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to beg when you’re trying to prove something. I wouldn’t call it a punishment either. It’s more like a boundary— had to set one with you since I don’t really like you right now.”

You scoff as you watch him start to walk away. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Your failed attempt at guilting Sukuna pulls an airy, satisfied laugh out of him as he walks back to the bedroom. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. You know what to do if you decide to go with the first option.”

—

At first, you’re disgusted and refuse to prove how sorry you are. If he didn’t want to accept your original apology, then that was his problem. He can have fun fucking his fist for all you care. You looked at the bright side of things— you got to have a quiet evening since he decided to stay in the room the entire time, save for when he came out to eat dinner.

He had the audacity to ask if he could have some of the food you cooked, but that’s how he found out you had decided to retaliate by giving him the silent treatment. It didn’t come as a surprise, nor did it make him question his decisions. If anything, he was quite pleased with how bothered you were. That just meant you’d reach a point where you’d fold and come to him.

He just had to wait, guessing it’d take around 5-6 days until you grow tired of throwing a silent tantrum and start to miss him.

It took 2.

Now you see why he doesn’t bother leaving? Dealing with you can be a nightmare sometimes, but that was only 10% of it. The rest of it was smothering him with affection, which you clearly love to do and miss if you’re sitting at the edge of the bed 2 days later.

His back’s against the headboard, arms folded over his chest, looking a little too pleased to see you break your silence.

“Missed me?”

“Please don’t tease me right now,” you murmur, clearly struggling with the defeat.

“I’m not,” he hums, though the laugh he had to suppress said otherwise. “Anyways, what's up?”

You question your decision each time he opens his mouth. He’s making this so much harder than it should be right now and enjoying it way too much while he’s at it.

You pick at your cuticles at the other end of the bed— the lack of eye contact you’ve made with him leads him to believe you’re more nervous than you let on. He’s wrong. It’s a little hard trying to mask your annoyance at the moment, and cowering in place does a decent job of hiding it.

“I thought about what you said.”

“Yeah?” The smug grin across his cheeks grows.

“Yeah. I’m tired of fighting,” you look up and say, crossing a leg over the other. “I miss how we normally are.”

“Me too,” he hums, already undressing you with his eyes because he’s a fucking pervert. “Glad it didn’t take too long either, missed hearing your voice.”

You nod, holding back a smile. “Not really sure what you’re looking for, though.”

“Nothing crazy,” he hums, the shrug he followed it with wasn’t too convincing. “All you gotta do is be nice to me— extra nice.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” he confirms, sinking back some more against the headboard. “You know how to be a good girl, I’ve seen it. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“No,” you softly say.

“Let me see it then— come here,” he hums, curling his finger in to beckon you closer. You start to stand, but he stops you. “Crawl.”

And crawling, at least right now, doesn’t feel very degrading. It’s the way he looks at you when you do, you’ve never wanted to smack him more. Once you’re kneeling beside him, he reaches over and slowly runs the back of his finger across your jaw.

“So you miss how we normally are, huh?” The broad question gets a nod from you, already knowing where he was going with this. “You’re normally pretty touchy— you miss that, too? Getting to touch me whenever you want?”

“Mhm.”

His finger traces down the side of your neck and across your shoulder, making your breath catch.

“Bet you miss having your mouth on me too, huh?”

You give a soft smile when his hand traces back up, cupping your cheek. “Yeah.”

“Think I might just miss that more,” he slips his thumb into your mouth, lightly pressing down on your tongue. “You know how much I love stuffing my cock in here.”

You still out of surprise. That’s what he wanted? Head? What an idiot, he could’ve just said that instead of making it seem like getting his forgiveness was some sinister task.

“Is that what you want?” you ask when his thumb pulls back.

“Mhm,” he smiles. “Look at you. I didn’t even have to ask.”

He continued to be stubborn, making you be the one to pull his sweatpants down by his waistband. You didn’t mind all that much. He may be a little shit, but it’s easy to wave it off when you're freeing his cock from his boxers. Just looking at it, how long and thick it is, sends heat in between your legs. Littered with thick veins, big red tip already smeared with precum, throbbing, begging for attention.

“Spit on it, get it all wet,” he murmurs, lids lowering at the sight of the thick string of saliva falling from your lips and landing on the thick head of his cock. “Yeahh— you know what I like.”

The sight’s filthy from the start when it’s just him telling you to spit on it some more, and more, and more. The entire time, there’s a slight pinch in his brow as he spreads it all from base to tip in a way that was slow and controlled, and hard to ignore. By the time the wet sounds of him stroking his cock could be heard, you were desperately squeezing your thighs together.

Watching his hand slow to a stop was a shame at first, but what followed took over your mind completely.

“Stick that tongue out for me— yeah that’s it, let me see it,” he murmurs, cock throbbing in his grip as he starts to tap the heavy tip of it against your tongue, hearing the weight of it behind each one. “Ready to put this pretty little mouth to work?”

“Yeah,” you murmur all sweetly, already in a daze.

“Good,” he chuckles. “Swirl your tongue around it.”

He watches you lean forward and do just that. Biting the bottom of his lip as you slowly drag your tongue all around his swollen head, salty remnants of precum hitting your taste buds with each flick and drag. Sukuna groans, abs tensing at your fingers digging into his thighs.

“Fuuck yeah.” He moves some of your hair out of the way to get a better look. “Suck on it for me, the tip— shit, just like that.”

As much as he loved the idea of making you beg, you really won’t ever have to. Watching you hollow your cheeks and pull away with a wet pop was enough. He rubs on the back of your neck as you do it again. “Feels fuckin good when you do that— so sweet with it, too.”

A soft hum passes through your lips, pulling back with another pop. He had plans to drag this out, but grows impatient at the sight of your glossy lips and the string of saliva connecting them to his head. His hand slightly tightens on the back of your neck and pushes you in closer, rubbing his tip over your lips.

“Open up,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he watches your lips part. “Go deeper. Show me how sorry you are.”

You feel both his hands go to the back of your head as you wrap your lips around his tip, gently bobbing your head as you inch further and further down his length, beginning to breathe through your nose the deeper you go.

His grip tightens as he starts hitting the back of your throat, throwing his head back with a gravelly, drawn out groan. For a minute, it felt like there was something missing, only for his ears to perk up just moments later when your nose hits his base with a small gag.

“There you go,” he huffs out a condescending laugh. At first he thinks to tell you to keep gagging on it, but then he has a better idea. “Open wide, princess. Gonna stretch this throat out.”

You pull up for air, revealing your teary eyes and wet lashes as you take a moment to breathe, and Sukuna thinks to himself how he’s never seen anyone so beautiful. Kinda like a Ursula in her human form type of beauty, given how much of a monster you are. Just cruel and evil.

He grins and pushes your head back down.

“Mmm, that’s it— relax it for me,” he says with a low rasp. “Gonna fuck this tight little throat of yours.”

Holding your head in place, he starts snapping his hips up, stuffing his fat cock down your throat with each thrust. Obscene slurping sounds mixed in with some of your moans fill the air as drool poured out of your mouth, making a mess around the base of his cock, earning his nasty praise. “Look at the mess you're making, you love this, huh? Such a good girl with my cock stuffed in your mouth. Keep it up and I might just stuff your pussy next.”

You make a sound, and it’s almost hopeful, as if you were asking, “Really?”

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” He thrusts up harder, enjoying the fact that you physically can’t talk right now. “Shit— m’gonna cum,” he murmurs through ragged breaths. “Look at you, did so good and now you get to have your throat filled.”

A low groan vibrates through his chest, swallowing thickly as he picks up the pace. Your nails dig into his thighs, hardly able to keep up and nearly drawing blood once you feel warm, thick spurts of cum begin to coat the back of your throat.

You’d think he’d be more spent with how hard he fucked your throat, but nope. The cocky, blissful sigh that slipped through his lips as you tried to get yourself together was all you needed to know.

He’s not the best when it comes to staying mad, at least with you. It’s pretty clear by now that this entire thing was just a ploy to make him feel more wanted, because he’s annoying. And pathetic.

Not that you get much time to simmer on the thought. It’s like you blink and suddenly you’re on your back, folded in half underneath him. Knees pinned to your chest, ankles up to your ears. Mentally, he’s gone. Too focused on rubbing the fat head of his cock against your hole, spreading your slick up and down your folds. Slow and intentional, enjoying the way you squirm in his hold.

That’s about the last of his patience, because seconds later, he’s bottoming out and you’re gasping from the sudden fullness.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans through a clenched jaw. His hips draw back, only pulling out halfway through before shoving himself back in with a resounding squelch. “Soaked, too. Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-yeah,” is all you could get out with all the weight he’s putting on you, keeping you locked down in the world’s meanest mating press.

“Two days is all this slutty pussy could take, huh?” He barely suppresses a laugh as he snaps his hips forward again, pulling another gasped moan out of you. “Better not start crying about how it’s too much then.”

It’s always too much, but this time he fucks you in a way where you can’t even get the words out. He just has you in straight up tears while he spends the next hour drilling into your sweet spot as if it were your punishment for making his life a living hell every few months.

While you spent your two days annoyed with him, he spent his saving enough energy to be able to pull back to back orgasms out of you like it was nothing. Going as far as taunting you when he felt you starting to tighten around his cock again, and then laughing after making you squirt once more after god knows how many times, talking about how, “that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Fuck him.

You clearly didn’t hate him that much, though. Yeah, you did go radio silent a couple of times, and there may have been a moment where you truly thought you were going to pass out, but that didn’t stop you from begging him to cum inside of you in the end.

He may have also teased you at first, asking if you deserved it, forgetting his place for a moment there.

But you always get what you want.

Even in the end, when you’re cuddling, and he’s murmuring sweet words into your ear, not knowing what the hell he’s even talking about when he says how much of a sweet girl you are and how you were his sweet girl.

Sukuna gets nothing but a curt “shh” in response.

“What?” he snorts, still in a lovesick mood.

There's a smile when you sigh. “The sound of your voice is ruining it right now for me, baby. I need you to be quiet or get lost.”

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