Sehun's 고추

Part of him had considered cancelling on the spot, turning around and walking straight out the door, prepared to wait for a different time slot when Toji would be available. But his shoulder had been killing him lately and he could really do with some relief, so against his better judgement he sucked it up and agreed to see the other masseuse that worked at Toji’s gym. 

Upon walking into the treatment room, he immediately decided that he’d made a mistake at the sight of you standing before him, all soft and pretty and welcoming in a way that Toji never was. You didn’t look like the type to be willing or even capable of inflicting pain upon anyone - he doubted he’d even be able to feel your tiny hands once they were pressed against his back. 

Call him sexist, but he really believed that men were just better suited for that line of work. 

Sure, a nice, relaxing massage would be better delivered by a woman, but a sports massage? He doubted you had the strength for what he needed. 

“Sukuna, right?” You’d asked, peering up at him with wide eyes. “It’s nice to meet you. Remove your clothes and cover yourself with a towel, I’ll give you a few moments to get settled-” 

“No need,” he said sharply. “When’s Toji back?” 

You wavered. “We’re not quite sure. His daughter was in some kind of sudden accident, he might not return for a few weeks, he needs to be there for his family in this difficult time…” You trailed off before continuing, taking stock of the resignation on Sukuna’s face. “I can assure you that I’m perfectly capable of attending to your needs. Toji hired me personally and can vouch for my skill.” 

Chewing on his lip, Sukuna appraised you once more. You were a pretty thing, even in the ugly green uniform that Toji had picked for his specialists. His thoughts lingered on what you might’ve meant when you said that Toji could vouch for your skill - did you mean that in a clinical manner, or was Toji using you for different means? 

Sukuna wouldn’t have been surprised if the latter was the case. You were his type which meant you were probably also Toji’s type, a thought that had a fresh wave of dread washing over him because if Toji had only hired you because you’d been sleeping with him, Sukuna was in for a rough massage. 

“Happy? Or are you gonna throw a tantrum?” You asked, a little impatiently, your hands firm on your hips. He was almost impressed by the bite in your voice, but it still didn't particularly convince him you’d be any good at this.

However, the flex of his arm as he moved a little reminded him just how much he needed this massage, so biting back his pride he nodded, speaking through gritted teeth. “Whatever, sure.” 

You looked far from impressed, but upheld your professional image regardless. “Great, you get yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” 

It took Sukuna all of five minutes to realise that he might’ve underestimated you. 

He’d laid down on the table as normal, half expecting to spend his half-hour session asleep, figuring he could at least catch up on that if you were no good at what he’d paid you to do. And to start with, you’d been as gentle as he’d expected, your hands running tenderly over the muscles in his back, no doubt impressed by them.

But that was where your kindness stopped. 

“You’re carrying a lot of tension up here.” You spoke matter of factly, fingers prodding a knot on the upper left side of his back. “It must be painful to sleep on your side right now.” 

Sukuna grunted in affirmation, uninterested in making conversation or doing anything that might make you feel praised, even if you were technically right in your assumption. You didn’t seem deterred, it was almost like you were expecting him to be difficult, and he wondered if Toji had warned you about him in advance. 

Walking around the table, you positioned yourself in the optimal place to work at the knot, and Sukuna found himself caught mid eye-roll when your palm dug into his back with much greater force than before, working away at the knot with enough strength that he found his fingers curling. 

That was how much of the rest of his session went. 

He’d been wrong to assume that you were too weak, because you’d worked at each section of his body with more ferocity than Toji usually would, almost like you were trying to teach him a lesson. Any knot found in his back and legs had been thoroughly beaten back into place, scared off by the skilled nature of your fingers. 

When you were done, allowing him to sit up, a towel still wrapped around his midsection, he felt thoroughly frazzled, his red eyes a little hazy. His back felt better than it ever had before, the ghost of your fingers still prominent against his tanned skin. He had to admit that your touch felt nicer on him than Toji’s did.

Not that he should be thinking about that. 

“All good?” You asked coolly, as if this was just run of the mill for you. He supposed it probably was. “If there’s something I’ve missed let me know and we can go over it again.” 

“Uh- n-no.” He could’ve died of embarrassment at the way he stuttered, emasculated even further by you grinning down at him in amusement. The worst thing was that he couldn’t really decide if he was humiliated or turned on, or maybe both. 

There was one particular body part of his that seemed to know the answer to that question, and he really hoped that you wouldn’t notice the slightly raised portion of the towel hugging his hips. 

“Great, then you’re all good to go. Since you only come by once a month, Toji should be back by your next appoint-” 

“Actually I think I need another appointment next week. My shoulder’s been acting up.” It was almost like an out of body experience, the words leapt from his throat before he could stop them and now you were smirking harder and he hated it and maybe he hated you. 

“Oh, it seemed alright-” 

“Well it's not.” He snapped, red gaze unwavering. You blinked at him a few times, staring down at him like you were trying to figure him out. It was clear that you’d been fully aware of his animosity towards you when he’d walked in, seemingly both puzzled and amused by his change of heart. 

“Okay, sure. I’ve got an opening this time next week?” 

“Great, I’ll be there.” 

Sukuna didn’t like to admit how much he thought about you throughout that week. He especially didn’t like to admit to the sheer number of times he’d awoken with wet boxers, the dream of your touch still prominent in his mind. 

He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had infected his brain so thoroughly. Sure, you were hot, but so were plenty of women, and Sukuna rarely had them rattling about in his head. It probably had more to do with your physical strength and perhaps your resolve, because even when he’d written you off, you’d shown him exactly what you were worth.

That, and the fact he couldn’t seem to get your condescending smirk out of his mind any less than he could stop feeling the ghost of your touch. He wasn’t used to meeting women who would treat him like that, more accustomed to the type that would fawn at his feet, those who were vapid and boring. 

And you certainly weren’t that. 

In the time between appointments, he’d even seen you across the gym when he’d been lifting weights. He imagined that you were there a lot, now that he could see your muscles, unobscured by those stupid clothes Toji made you wear. It wasn’t surprising that he’d never noticed you before, tending to stay in his own little bubble of focus at the gym, but now that he was aware of you he could barely tear his eyes away. 

You were strong, so strong, doing weighted pull-ups with 20kg attached to you like it weighed nothing. And based on the way that his heart sped up at the sight, beating almost into overdrive as you smiled at him upon noticing his stare, he found that shit immensely attractive. 

Shit, he really hoped Toji hadn’t been fucking you. That would suck.

Sukuna visited you again, and again you gave him the best massage of his life, driving your elbow into his back with a force that had him seeing stars. His heart fluttered with each simple touch of your hands, mind hazy with need as your fingers worked on his shoulders and he found himself wishing you were working on a different part of him. 

That was how things continued for weeks, in which Sukuna spent an ungodly amount of money just to have you touch him again, pretending that he had various issues which he certainly didn’t because you’d thoroughly removed all his knots and tensions during his very first visit. But he wasn’t sure what else he could do, addicted to your touch and unable to find a more effective way to be close to you. 

Because he was almost certain that you didn’t really like him. 

Whenever he appeared, trying to make small talk or even flirt, you’d brush him off coolly, getting straight to the point, urging him to lay down and silencing him beneath the harsh and strong movements of your hands. He had no better luck at the end of sessions either, for you’d hurry him along claiming that you had another client waiting. 

The waiting room was usually empty when Sukuna left so he doubted the legitimacy of your claim, but you’d left him at something of a loss as to how to handle you. 

To be honest, he wasn’t accustomed to chasing after women. Usually, he’d sleep with whatever women chose to throw themselves at him, seeking fleeting pleasure in the form of one night stands, never putting much effort into seeking out someone he liked - as long as they were hot he tended to be game. 

And then there was you, throwing his whole system and all of his beliefs completely out of check, because sure, he wanted to fuck you, but he also wanted to know you, and it was pissing him off that after several weeks of coming to you unfalteringly, he was no closer to you than he had been in that first session. 

What hurt even more was the one afternoon that he came in for his appointment, figuring that he’d finally bite the bullet, swallow his pride, and just ask you out, only to find Toji waiting for him in the treatment room. 

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Toji looked a little tired, having spent the last couple of months helping his daughter recover from her accident. Sukuna felt a flicker of annoyance at the sight of him, frustrated that his plans for the afternoon had been ruined. 

“Good.” Sukuna said warily. “I didn’t realise you were back.” 

He shrugged. “Tsumiki’s mom can look after her for a bit and I was going stir-crazy. Figured I’d come back to work and get back on a normal schedule.” 

“That’s great.” 

“Yeah, figured I’d give my cover a bit of a break, I’m sure you were fuckin’ awful to her while I was gone.” 

Sukuna hummed, chewing on his lip. “I mean, she was adequate, I guess.” 

Toji seemed to suddenly perk up at his words, green eyes narrowing as he peered at Sukuna’s face. Sukuna tried to stay nonchalant, staring back at his friend like there was nothing more to be said on the matter. 

“She was adequate?” He asked slowly. 

“Sure.” 

“Really? I thought you’d be cursing my name for letting some girl take care of you.” 

“Well, she was decent, what else is there to say?” Sukuna snapped, wondering how he could ask Toji if he could switch over to being your patient permanently without taking a massive hit to his pride. 

Clearly, he hadn’t hidden the emotion in his voice as well as he should’ve, because Toji was tilting his head to the side in question, a slowly growing smirk stretching across his face. “Got something you wanna tell me dude? You said you’d rather die than let someone else handle your massages.”

“Nothing.” He hissed quickly. “It was fine, just fine. I don’t pay you to talk, I got somewhere to be.” 

“Okay, okay,” Toji said with a raise of his hands, but the grin didn’t falter and Sukuna hated that. 

Toji’s massage sucked. 

He didn’t think that anything had actually changed in terms of what Toji did - the issue was that it wasn’t your hands pressing against his back, it wasn't the sound of your gentle breaths cutting through the silence of the room. 

It was disappointing, and he was humiliated that he actually felt that way.

He didn’t return for an appointment for a full month after that, going back to his usual schedule now that Toji had returned. He’d seen you in the gym a few times, but you were always working out with friends or sometimes guys and despite all his confidence there was something in him that felt afraid to approach you. He cared too much about the idea of you turning him down, laughing in his face like he had a chance.

So he left you be, and resigned himself to his fate. 

When his next appointment rolled around, he’d gone into his usual room, waiting glumly for Toji to arrive, hoping for the entire encounter to be done swiftly. There was no joy in it now, it was nothing beyond a necessity for him to maintain his physical health. 

His heart had practically leapt from his throat when you’d walked in through the door instead of Toji, greeting him with the smallest upturn of your lips. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey!” His words came out an octave higher than usual, and you couldn’t hide the smile it drew from you, sending humiliation coursing through him. That seemed to be a regular response in all matters concerning you, and he tried his best to push the feeling aside. “Toji back off work?”

“No, he’s here. He just gave your appointment to me, said I’m better suited for your needs.” 

“Oh.”

Sukuna wanted to crawl in a hole and die, unable to stop imagining how that conversation would’ve gone down. Did Toji have a big grin on his face when he’d told you about the change? Had his tone been particularly suggestive, betraying exactly what Sukuna felt when he was around you? 

“I can call him in if you’d prefer him though? He’s not got a patient right now so-” 

“No.” Sukuna was quick to interrupt you, “it’s fine.” 

“Just fine, huh?” You mused, seemingly to yourself. You didn’t give Sukuna a chance to admit that he was glad for the change, swiftly moving on and telling him to get undressed, sweeping out of the room for a few moments while he got himself settled atop the table, his heart racing at a hundred miles a minute. 

He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed your touch until your hands were on him once more, sturdy in their feel but somehow much softer than Toji’s. You’d remained silent as you’d gone through your usual routine, quiet and even breaths falling from your lips, fingers pressing on the knots that had reformed at the base of his neck and in his shoulders. For once he actually needed to see you, having grown tense in your absence over the past few weeks. 

“Is the pressure okay?” You’d asked softly, to which he replied with a quiet grunt of affirmation, because of course it was, you always knew exactly what to do to ease his strained body. 

He wondered how it would feel to have your steady hands wrapped around his cock, squeezing with just the right intensity to have him unravelling. 

“Adequate, would you say?” You asked, with an amused lilt. Sukuna froze up, any tension that you’d eased immediately flooded back into his shoulders at the words he’d spoken to Toji about you during his last session. 

That bastard had really sold him out. He was probably in his office laughing about that shit. 

“I said you were decent, actually,” he mumbled, figuring that he might as well stand up for himself. The sweet quality of your giggle caught him off guard, eyes widening in shock because he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard you laugh before. You were usually so stoic with him, never offering him anything more than a smug smile. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Why else would I be here so damn often?” 

You hummed, fingers still pressing into the muscles of his upper back. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, since we both know there’s nothing wrong with your shoulder.” 

Falling silent, he felt his cheeks warm under the question. He was usually so in control where women were concerned, usually he was the cat toying with a mouse, but he felt that the roles had been thoroughly switched now. Still, you continued stroking his back, his cock hardening with each careful move of your fingers. 

He was convinced he was leaking onto the towel below him when he heard you let out a gentle sigh. “Sometimes, I’m almost convinced that you come here just to see me. But that would be crazy, right? You must’ve spent a small fortune at this point.” 

Sukuna didn’t want to think about how much money he’d spent in the last two months, but he couldn't say that he regretted a single penny. Fortunately, he was accustomed to winning his matches and through competition earnings and sponsors he had more than enough to afford it. 

Though, that money could certainly be better spent on you rather than half of it lining Toji’s pockets. 

“Would you like it if that was the reason?” He felt like a teenager again, trying to feel out a crush before committing to something that might end in rejection. 

“I think I’d be confused as to why you didn’t just ask me out.” You giggled again, hands stilling but not pulling away from their position on his back. 

Well, now he felt a little stupid. 

“I think I’d be flattered though. Maybe I'd even be interested,” you continued.

“Maybe?” He asked, heart fluttering. He was still staring down at the floor through the hole in the table, completely at your mercy, only able to imagine what expression you were wearing as you peered down at him, completely distracted now from the task at hand. 

“Mmmm, hypothetically, if that was the reason.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, starting to catch on to the fact that you wanted him to speak the words out loud, to swallow his pride and confess his desires. He hated how you always had the upper hand with him, always in control since the very first time he’d met you. He hated how much he liked it, how much he wanted to do whatever you told him to. 

“I want you.” The words came out all matter of fact, spoken more like he was listing groceries rather than confessing. He wanted to brush over it and get to the part where you were his, the moment that you’d climb on top of him and ride him until he couldn’t breathe, your hands pressing at his shoulders while you did so. 

But you were something of a sadist, because instead of simply accepting his confession, you said: “more.” 

And he didn’t hesitate, throwing himself over the threshold because now he’d admitted to his liking of you, what was the point in maintaining a stoic sense of pride? 

He pushed himself up onto his forearms, twisting around to look at you. “I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you, hell I fuckin’ dream about you. I want you, I want you to touch me more, fuck.” 

“Yeah?” Your expression was ecstatic, eyes glimmering with glee. Sukuna suddenly found himself overly aware of how naked he was and how dressed you were, feeling almost shy under this newly found attention. 

“Yeah, I mean, look at you.” 

“It’s funny, when you first showed up here a few months ago, you didn’t seem to like me much at all.” 

His body literally sagged, wishing he could go back and undo all the rudeness from the first time he’d met you. At this point he’d been thoroughly humbled - you’d proven that women could be just as effective at giving sport massages as men, and you’d also stolen his heart in the process. He had really learned his lesson. 

“Sorry. I was a jerk.” 

“You were. It was cute hearing you stutter after that first session though, really adorable stuff.” 

“Stop.” He groaned, his cheeks reddening. 

“Pretty sure you were hard too.” 

He had been, just like he was in that moment, but he hated the fact that you’d known and had said absolutely nothing for two months. He was torn between wanting to implode beneath the weight of his own cringe, and being the happiest he’d ever felt, because he was pretty sure that through all your teasing this was you accepting his confession. 

“I also really liked watching you invent excuses to come back every week. My friends were sure you were gonna ask me out.” 

Sukuna shrugged, sitting up properly now and trying to relax. It wasn’t often that he’d been free to peer so openly at your face like he was right now, and it was a tough task to keep himself calm because you were just so lovely and he really wanted to lean forward and kiss you. He wanted you on the table with him - on top of him, beneath him, whatever - he just needed you.

“Look, I didn’t wanna seem like a creep and overstep a professional boundary,” he confessed. “I was scared it would be one of those situations where a guy thinks a stripper loves him.” 

Again you laughed. “Aw, that's actually kind of a sweet consideration. Toji told me that you were a jerk through and through, but I guess he’s wrong.” 

Sukuna pouted at the idea of Toji telling you anything about him, although his buddy clearly did a somewhat decent job at wingmaning considering he’d orchestrated the current situation. 

“I actually thought you’d approach me when I was working out. I was always smiling at you in the gym but you’d never come over.” 

God, he really was an idiot. 

He wanted to kick himself for not catching on sooner that you were open to his advances. It was something of an embarrassment for someone who usually held such confidence. 

“Again, I didn’t want to be one of those gross gym bros trying to bother a girl while she’s working out,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know- I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in me so I didn’t want to risk it.” 

“Well I am. Interested in you, I mean.” 

He blinked at you a couple of times, red eyes scanning your face almost in disbelief. He wasn’t sure why it came as a surprise to him, since he’d never had much of an issue getting women to like him, but for some reason you’d just seemed so unattainable. You’d always seemed aloof to him in a way that suggested his chances of dating you were about the same as dating a celebrity. 

And yet, here you were. 

“Oh.” 

There was a moment of silence before Sukuna recovered, remembering that he was usually good with women and letting his body spring into action. His hands found your hips, tugging you forward and positioning you between his legs which were dangling over the side of the table. The towel had kept its position around his waist, but left little to the imagination as he held you there between his muscular thighs. 

Lips crashing against yours, his arms wrapped firmly around your torso, pulling you closer into his grip and allowing him to deepen the kiss. You tasted faintly of honey and were just as addictive, a desire for more surging through him as he explored your mouth, your tongue dancing with his as though you’d done this a million times before. 

Bravely, his hands toyed with the hem of your shirt, lifting it experimentally, thrilled when you aided him in pulling it off over your head, leaving you in your sports bra which he was equally quick to discard. It was nice to have his hands on your skin for a change, running his fingers over the muscles of your back as you lost yourselves in the kiss once more. He wondered if you’d enjoy him massaging you, or if you’d find his untrained attempts rather pathetic. 

You didn’t give him much chance to find out, thoroughly distracting him with the slow movement of your hands down the length of his torso, stopping only once you reached the edge of the white towel covering him. He gasped against your mouth once your hand slipped beneath, fingers brushing gently against his pubic hair before finding the shaft of his cock. 

“How about you lay back for me?” You murmured, breaking the kiss, eyes blown wide with desire. Sukuna’s cock twitched in your hand at the question, more than happy for you to tell him what to do. He shuffled back on the table, laying down on his back and relaxing as you hopped up on top of him, your knees placed firmly on either side of his thighs.

Your hand was stroking his cock languidly, lashes fluttering enticingly as you stared down at him, clearly enjoying the pleasure gripping his face with each careful touch. Your other hand was stroking his thigh, slowly massaging the muscle where dark bands of ink wrapped around his skin. 

“I’ve always liked these.” You hummed, eyes flickering to the tattoos. “I admire them whenever you come in.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mmm. They’re hot.” 

Again, Sukuna was twitching in your hand, caught off guard by the impact the simplest of compliments seemed to have on him so long as they were falling from your lips. A low groan escaped from him as you squeezed his cock a little harder, running your hand along the length of it with the same expert motions you’d use on his back. 

Generally, when women had tried jerking him off in the past, it had never felt quite as good as it did to simply get himself off with his own hands - it was impossible for them to understand his body in the way that he did. And yet, under your touch he was writhing desperately, his stomach tensing with each firm stroke, trying to hold it together despite the fact he could already feel himself coming undone.

It was clear that you knew what to do - switching up the pressure and the nature of your movements, testing to see what had him shivering with the greatest intensity. Occasionally, your thumb would swipe the tip, spreading pre-cum down his shaft, all while you kept eye contact with him, your legs squeezing hard against his thighs. 

“Is the pressure good?” You asked in a low tone, a teasing smile on your pretty face, speaking to him like this was just another normal appointment, like your hand was wrapped around his bicep rather than his cock. 

“You know it is.” He managed to huff out, his face scarlet, only spurring you on further. 

“Aw, good.” Your hand picked up speed and moments later he was cumming all over your hand, his seed dripping down your fingers, making a mess beneath the towel he was still covered with. You’d released him, and as you pulled your hand away he’d expected you to wipe it clean on the towel; instead, you raised your fingers to your lips and licked them clean of his cum without a second thought. 

He was already hard again. 

Fortunately, you seemed to be one step ahead of him. 

Unravelling the towel hanging off his hips, you freed his cock from its confines. He watched you carefully, noting the way your eyes gazed upon it, the way your throat bobbed with a gulp at the sight. That, at the very least, restored his ego to some extent - for once he didn’t feel like he was totally on the backfoot with you. 

“Impressed?” He asked, puffing out his chest with pride. 

“Yeah, actually,” you responded easily. “Very impressed.” 

Once again, he felt shy beneath your easy confidence, still not quite used to how easily you would say what was on your mind. There were no games, no manipulation, no pretending that you cared about something less than you really did. 

He appreciated it. 

“There’s only five minutes left of our session, and Toji needs the room after.” You said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Do you think that’s enough time?” 

It certainly wasn’t enough time for what Sukuna wanted from you. He wanted to spend hours worshipping every part of your body, wanted to eat you out until you were crying, wanted to show you what it was like for him to be in charge. More than anything, he wanted to be buried inside of you until you were both numb and overstimulated, wanted you clinging to him in the throes of exhaustion and pleasure. 

But none of that seemed fit to do in your treatment room, so it would have to wait for another time. 

“I think I can be quick,” he said honestly, only to be met with a smug grin.

“Oh, I bet you can.” 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, “it’s not my fault you’ve got me all riled up.” 

That earned him another soft laugh, and he found that he was entirely smitten with the sound. 

“Oh, how flattering of you,” you purred.

“What can I say? I’m charming.” 

You didn’t respond to that, offering him nothing more than an almost shy smile as you discarded the rest of your clothes, a blush lining your cheeks for once as he took in your naked beauty. You were as gorgeous as he expected, and he found his hands trailing down your sides before coming to rest on your hips, wishing he could kiss every inch of you. 

But you had speed on your mind, and leaving Sukuna in his position laying back on the table, you hovered yourself over his cock, taking it once more in your hand and rubbing it through your folds a few times before lining yourself up and sitting down on it with a quiet little gasp. 

Sukuna groaned in sheer pleasure at the tightness of your walls wrapped around him, his fingers digging hard into the skin of your hips as he helped ease you down his length until he was buried to the hilt within you. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” he groaned. 

“No, I think you’re just big.” You bit back at him with some effort, your hands braced on his chest while you struggled to adjust, thighs trembling ever so slightly. 

“Maybe.” He tried to hide how much your comment had swelled his ego. 

After giving yourself a few moments to breathe, you started to move, raising yourself up and bringing yourself down again on his cock, sweet groans and whines pouring from you as you found a rhythm, doing all the work yourself while Sukuna supported your hips. He was gazing up at you like a man who’d just witnessed an angel, red eyes shiny with affection at the sight of you on top of him, breasts bouncing with each movement. 

He couldn’t remember the last time it had felt so good to be inside someone. 

Probably never. 

Eager to be closer to you, he propped himself up on his forearms, encouraging you to steady yourself on his shoulders. You leant forward, hands firm against his skin, your breasts pressing up against his chest, forcing you to move from long movements of your hips to simply grinding yourself against him. 

A yelp left you once Sukuna decided that he wanted to help, thrusting his hips upwards and taking you along for the ride. He picked up a brutal pace, aware that the two of you were on a time limit, chuckling at the way your fingers scrambled for purchase against his skin, finding safety in the familiarity of the shoulders you’d been massaging for weeks. 

“Feel good?” He rasped against your ear, aware that your movements had largely stilled, letting him take charge in filling you so thoroughly.

“S-so good,” you stuttered, and Sukuna felt a sick sense of pleasure at hearing you falter in such a way. He’d been humiliated enough for a little while and figured it was time for the tables to turn, at least for a little while. 

He was certain that if things were going to work out between the two of you, he’d find many moments in which you were in control. 

But right now? This wasn’t one of them. 

You’d had your fun, and he was going to have his. 

Just as he’d wanted, you came before he did. You did your best to muffle your cry of his name by burning your face into his shoulder, but he was sure that you’d still be heard if there were any prying ears on the other side of the door. He couldn’t really care less about such a thing - Toji had heard him having sex plenty of times throughout college. 

He’d kept up his movements, fucking you through the orgasm until you were whining pathetically against his shoulder, begging him to slow down. He did no such thing until he had reached his own peak, spilling into you with a deep groan, only registering moments later that he probably should’ve pulled out first. 

It wasn’t like him to forget a condom, never having fucked a girl bareback before. 

But you were something different. The moment you’d offered your affection to him his mind had gone haywire, completely forgetting important details like that in favour of having you completely to himself. 

He’d buy you the morning after pill as an apology. 

Cradling you against him for a few moments, he wished you could stay like that for a while longer. Your weight atop his sweaty body felt lovely, and he desperately wanted to continue stroking your hair, losing himself in the intoxicating scent of you that seemed to drive him crazy. 

But reality came knocking in the form of a fist against the door of the treatment room. “All done? I do have a patient in ten minutes so I need to set up.” Toji called out. You leapt from your position on top of Sukuna swiftly as if suddenly remembering yourself, glancing at the door nervously. 

Sukuna wondered how much Toji had heard, wondering if the man was standing outside grinning like a Cheshire cat, ready to quiz Sukuna all about it the moment he exited. 

It was likely, since Toji had always been a nosy bastard. 

Too bad Sukuna wouldn’t be telling him anything about you. You were sacred to him, and it would stay that way - he wasn’t about to share anything with Toji.

“Yeah, just a few minutes!” You called back to Toji, your voice wavering a little. It was cute, how frazzled you seemed to be - he wanted to see more of that. 

Letting out a heavy breath, you looked at Sukuna, who was slowly sitting up. His red eyes were darting about your face, trying to read your expression, hoping to god that this wasn’t some spur of the moment, one time thing. He wanted to take you home, wanted you in his arms.

If he had to go back to lying about aches and pains just to see you at a scheduled appointment, he was pretty sure he’d lose his mind. 

“Do you wanna come to my place later?” You spoke before he could, giving him an almost bashful smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’d like that,” he responded, shoulders relaxing. 

He was pretty sure that your words alone had released a knot in his back.

That was just how good a masseuse you were. 

a/n: need him so bad my GOD

ANYWAY hope you enjoyed this little one shot while I work on the next chapter of crazy in love! thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always <3

sukuna permatags: @calicatzz @suzunu @windintheivy @winkii @kamisiag @sukubusss @bobis-notmylover @tetsuski @torupilled @brattyxackerman @r0vena @chaos-4baby @moonlitreveri3 @feyrinnn @strawberryrosey @creamofsneky-blog @zeeseekay @p1nkfl0wers @apricityn @keiiiluv @dogggggggblog-kaye @duckie3801 @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

“God– what is it now?” She groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Got you.”

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

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

Something watches you. 

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

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

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

“Did you miss me, Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

He preferred the term incubus. 

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

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

He thought it was hilarious. 

You never called him that again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

But on a bad day…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Oh.”

“Mhm. You should say it,” he smirks.

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

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

“Entertainment,” he casually says with a shrug. 

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt the blood drain from your face.

Then it got worse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. At least he stays true to himself.

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

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

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

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

“I really didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if you say my name.” 

“That’s what you want?”

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

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

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

“Yeah...”

“Then say it for me.”

—

He drove you insane at first. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It doesn't even work like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

Do you not have any real friends? 

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

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

You smile and say, “yeah.” 

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

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

Shouldn’t that be enough? 

—

He thought you were dead once. 

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

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

So fucking tired. 

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

He was getting there though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still cold?” 

“No.”

“You’re still shivering.”

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

“Better?”

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

“Sukuna?”

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

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

“Go to sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never brought it up. 

He never tried again. 

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

You remind yourself he’s not real.

Then you go home and forget all over again. 

—

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

Until it started to seep into reality.

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

It went downhill fast. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

“Did I now?” 

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even though it was really fucking hard. 

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

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

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

You cut him off, “what the fuck?”

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

“Why would you let that happen?!”

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

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

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

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

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

And you said yes, like a dumbass. 

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

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

It was so fucking bad. 

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

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

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

“Can you reverse it or something?” 

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

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

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

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

He knows all about your fears. 

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

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

“Staying away from each other would probably work.”

It catches you off guard. 

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

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

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

“How much would it help?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t be dumb. 

Just do it already.

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

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

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

He wasn’t supposed to matter this much. 

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

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

It’s okay if it ends like this. 

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

He looks satisfied. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

A month has gone by since you parted ways. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn around and immediately freeze. 

It’s Sukuna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

“Wait, so… no gory ritual?”

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

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

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

He’s the one who’s doing it. 

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

“Let me show you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll be just like me in no time.”

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