⟢ ━━━ big feelings
modern au ⊹ bsf's older brother!sukuna 𝔁 f!reader ⊹ nsfw drabble!
warnings. smut, mdni. lowk strangers to lovers. age gap (30s him, 20s you). cunnilingus, fingering, piv, cpie. he's kind of pathetic and u own him like a dawg. protip listen to the song while reading
masterlist | wc: 3.2k
thinking about yuuji's older brother sukuna who doesn't pay attention to his annoying little friends. why would he care about a couple of twenty-something-year old kids when he has bills to pay?
but when he sees how polite you are to the local kobeni owner, a grumpy old man that usually yells him to high hell and back for dressing like a mobster and scaring off business? the man was speaking in gentle cadences sukuna wasn't aware he was capable of. and you pulled a smile out of the damn geezer to boot.
sure you're kind, but not a pushover. sukuna realized this key distinction when you refused to laugh at a joke he mouthed off, ripping on yuuji for being such a slob he probably would be forty before he landed a serious girlfriend. "quit being an asshole. nobody likes that. i don't see you sporting any long-time girlfriends yourself. tsk," you snapped back coldly.
but ever the enigma, you surprised him constantly. sukuna wishes he could figure you out, truly. despite your usual snippy attitude towards him, you knew the importance of gratitude and good manners.
so when sukuna's 32nd birthday comes around, he didn't expect to receive many gifts outside of a couple messages from his very few school friends, maybe something stupidly goofy from yuuji. a decent watch from their grandfather. an unwanted greasy coupon to the local kfc from that broke bum, fushiguro.
but there it was. sat on his kitchen counter, a medium-sized red box with a tied bow of ribbon. inside laid a knife sharpener. a good one that actually costs money, not some don-quijote-dollar-store junk. there's a note tucked under it, folded once neatly. your handwriting was pretty yet unusual. rather on-brand.
your knives looked dull and i'm tired of not being able to julienne cut carrots whenever i cook here. figured i'd save you and me both from chopping a finger off. happy birthday.
you didn't sign your name, you didn't need to. it bothered him that you knew he would know who it was from. it bothered him even more when you never brought it up, sticking to the routine of never acknowledging him outside of a respectful bow whenever you bumped into each other in the itadori apartment or a rare moment in public.
you weren't infallible, though. as much as you'd want to keep your interactions with the older itadori to a minimum, sometimes fate has other ideas.
he was already half-asleep when the phone rang, and he almost let it go to voicemail until he saw the caller id.
you didn't call him. ever. not once in however long he'd known you, not for anything. yuuji was your first go-to. then the red head, he's 99% sure. following after, fushiguro's kid. hell, anyone before sukuna.
so when your name lit up his screen at a little after midnight, he was moving before he'd even answered, some part of him already knowing this wasn't nothing. your voice hit him worse than he expected. it was wobbly and scarily soft, the sound of someone trying oh-so-hard to stay calm. he'd heard that tone of voice before. a long time ago, in circumstances he didn't like thinking about.
"u-um, i'm really sorry for calling you so late. there's... there's a man following me, sukuna. i don't know what to do. i did the walking in a circle trick to make sure, and he's still a couple meters behind me, and i.." your voice trails off in a tremble.
“i'm coming. don't stop saying things, alright?" sukuna's voice rasps over the line, still deep from the slumber.
you oblige and keep blabbering to him, random stuff about your day and how your classes went. nothing to tip off the man a couple dozen steps behind you, as sukuna reminded you. he asks you to discreetly let him know where you were walking and you mention the closed-down laundromat, the one with the flickering sign. he knows exactly where that is. it's a dodgy stretch, badly lit, with no cameras.
"don't run," he says, taking the stairs two at a time instead of waiting on the elevator. "keep walking toward the main road. towards the streetlights. you hear me?" he hears you hum an "mm-hmmm" shakily.
"eyes forward. don't look back at him." sukuna's already running the red light two blocks from his building, spinning the steering wheel fast when he comes around the bend. "i'm two minutes out. you're doing good, okay? just keep talking to me. tell me something stupid. i don't care what, don't stop talking."
you ramble away, trying your best not to let your legs give out as you keep the pace steady. when you see the familiar black lexus' white leds come into view, you breathe a huge sigh of relief.
the car doesn't even fully stop before he's stepping out of it, door slammed behind him, the engine still running in the middle of the street. he's in front of you instantly, close enough to smell his spicy sandalwood cologne.
"go sit in the car." his voice is firm, in a different register entirely from the calm tone he had with you in the phone. "lock the doors. don't watch."
you don't listen. not fully, anyway. you get in the car like he says, but you don't take your eyes off him, watching through the tinted windows as he goes to face the man who's finally stopped walking, clearly recalculating the odds of the night now that there's someone the size of a bull standing between you and him.
you can't hear what sukuna says from inside the vehicle. you can see it though; with the stillness in his shoulders as he says words that send the guy one step back and then two more, eventually turning and walking fast in the other direction like he suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be.
sukuna watches him go for a long moment before he turns back toward the car.
when he gets in, he doesn't say anything. he simply sits there a second with both hands on the wheel, jaw tight. he's deciding whether he really wants to let the creep go without a physical lesson to take home. but he knows best that you don't listen to anyone, let alone sukuna, so you were most definitely watching the interaction. he didn't want introduce you to that version of him. mindless rumors were one thing, but if you witnessed sukuna was capable of everything people said and more... well. he didn't want to know what you'd think of him then.
"you're still shaking like a fucking leaf." is what comes out instead.
you shake your head, as if to disagree with the very obvious observation. "i'm fine now, promise."
"i didn't ask if you were fine." he reaches over without looking at you and turns the heat up, aiming the vents your way. "i said you're shaking."
you don't have a response for that. you just watch him drive, only his left hand on the wheel now, eyes flicking to you at every red light. it felt like he's checking if you're still there. you would be completely correct.
you blurt a single sentence out of nowhere. "you were the first person who i thought of."
sukuna doesn't say anything to that. just nods once, short, and pulls up outside your building, and doesn't pull away until he watches you get all the way through the front door. realistically, he didn't know how to answer that, which is why he opted for the silence. he thinks about the declaration the whole drive home.
sukuna didn't expect after the incident for things between the both of you to change. it's a week later on a particularly lazy sunday where you're leaning against the breakfast counter, halfway through a rant about your e-mech professor's terrible lectures when sukuna walks in for coffee.
you don't do the usual thing of ignoring his presence. instead, you wave him toward the mug he always uses. it was clean and awaiting him by the pot of already-brewed folger's. he wordlessly moves to pour himself the cup, and it goes unnoticed by yuuji and your other friends. he takes a couple sips and leaves it there, opting to move to the couch and read a dusty magazine that hadn't been opened since the moment it was kept on the coffee table. he was trying to not to look too conspicuous that he was invested in your ramblings.
you pay no mind and yap away, hands gesturing through the story, and somewhere in the middle of it you reach over without looking and steal a sip of his abandoned coffee. like it was habitual. he swallows the cough that tries to erupt from him, burying his nose deeper in the copy of teen vogue, highly engrossed in the article titled "top five tips to elevate your makeup bag!"
half an hour later when he manages to catch a moment where the rest of them were absent from the living room, he comes up behind you like fog. you only see a pair of tattooed arms cage you in.
"that's disgusting, by the way." he says, awfully close to your ear. you smelled of lilies and vanilla ice cream. he could get high on that scent alone.
you roll your eyes. "you'll live."
you don't even try to look behind at him when you say it, already moving to push past, but he doesn't let you off that easy.
he takes the mug of cold coffee from in front of you. you instantly turn to protest that it's arguably even more disgusting to drink stale coffee, but he's already downing the drink from the same side where your lipstick mark was. his narrow eyes were looking above the rim and straight at you. his gaze made your skin grow hot.
"you're insane," you finally manage with a breathy sputter.
"you started it." he sets the mug down and finally lets you out of his makeshift confines. before you knew it you were left alone, speechless.
sukuna himself didn't know what came over him to act so boldly. you were an itch he couldn't get rid of. the sunlight that seeps through his blinds. he was so close to acting uncouth, unable to make sense of the melting pot of emotions in his mind when he thought of you. you weren't yuuji's little friend anymore. you were fucking lilies and sinful vanilla that invaded his sensibility. it was bringing out a part of him he hadn't seen since his own college days.
you've come alone to the itadori apartment on a tuesday night because yuuji begged you to drop off a textbook he left with you. to no one's surprise, yuuji's not even home because of some study group he forgot he agreed to, so it's just you; standing in sukuna's doorway with an advanced materials textbook in your arms sporting your favorite sweatshirt and snoopy pajamas combo. he was clad in a t-shirt and sweats looking like he wasn't expecting company. he more than doesn't mind that it's you.
"he's not here," he says, stepping back to let you in anyway.
"i know, he told me. i just need to drop this and go, i've got a paper due—"
"do it here." sukuna doesn't pose it as a question.
despite giving him a look and rattling off a bunch of excuses about pending chores and whatnot, you find yourself sitting at the dining table, laptop open, with a plate of dinner he had just made.
"i wasn't actually going to stay," you say, watching him move around the kitchen. "i just really like pesto linguine."
"i know." he slides a glass of water to you. "i won't bother you while you write."
you scoff. "i really doubt that, sukuna."
you end up staying for hours. yuuji texted sukuna a while back that he was staying at megumi's, which he relayed to you. you didn't want to think further on why he let you know that yuuji wouldn't be home. you were trying your best to type away at the essay, but with sukuna reading across from you it was impossibly difficult to focus. you catch him watching you instead of his book, unhurried about it, not bothering to look away when you notice.
"what?" you say, not quite steady.
"nothing." he doesn't go back to reading. "you finish that essay yet?"
"you're distracting me."
"me, distracting?" he sets the book down slowly, leaning back in the wooden chair. "this is the first time i've spoken in two hours." his chair scrapes. two steps and he’s on your side of the table. one tattooed arm plants on the surface beside your laptop. the other reaches past you and closes the lid with a quiet click. “sukuna, i—”
you bite your lip before you realize you did, the lidded look in your eyes giving him enough ammo. a big hand moves to your head, his thumb brushing the side of your neck.
“you’re too much,” his voice was rough with arousal. “every damn time. it's like you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
you don’t deny it. instead you tilt your head into his palm, calm and curious if he'd cross the line. that tiny surrender is what finally cracks him.
he kisses you like a man starved. sukuna is nothing like what your past boyfriends were. he hopes they don't even come close. his mouth ravages you, tongue sliding against yours as if he needs to taste every second he’s spent away from you. when you make a soft sound against his lips he groans into it, the noise beyond pained.
“fuck,” he mutters against your mouth, already yanking your sweatshirt up and over your head.
“you walk around here smelling like that, talking like that, looking at me like that—” his hands are everywhere at once: your waist, the curve of your breasts through the bra, the soft bit of skin just above your pajamas. “and you expect me to just sit across from you and read a fucking book?”
you let him strip you and shove away your pajamas and underwear down in one impatient motion. let him lift you onto the table with impeccable ease, pushing away your things to make room. he clips off your bra and nearly cums at the sight of your perked nipples. he is every bit the domineering figure he always is; big muscles heaving, thick fingers already sliding between your legs to feel how wet you are for him and gather the slick.
but you notice his hands shake slightly when he finds out. the almost rabid look in his eyes when you don’t look away. sukuna was reeling from how unreal the entire ordeal felt.
“you're soaked,” he breathes in awe. “you’ve been sitting across from me like this for hours.”
you reach down to cup his jaw, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. the simple touch makes his breath stutter. he drops to his knees like the floor pulled him down, spreads your thighs wide and puts his mouth on you with zero restraint.
sukuna licks into you like he’s trying to devour the feeling itself. if you asked him, he was in utopia. his tongue operated in greedy motion, lips sealed around your clit, two thick fingers pushing inside and curling hard at the spot that made you squirm. the sounds he's making are filthy, almost frantic, like he’s the one coming undone.
you thread your fingers into his hair and hold him there, guiding. he follows every tiny shift of your hips like he’s desperate for the instruction. when your legs start to tremble he only works harder, sucking, fingering, chasing your pleasure with single-minded intensity until you come with a broken gasp of his name, thighs clamping around his head.
he doesn’t stop until you tug gently. even then, he stays on his knees a second longer, forehead pressed to your inner thigh, breathing hard, like he’s trying to get his bearings. “good,” he mutters. “that’s one.”
when he stands again, his sweatpants are already shoved down. you make an audible gulp he chuckles at. he’s big and thick, already leaking precum that makes you eager for what his actual cum looks like. he steps between your legs, rubbing at the entrance, making you whine.
"be patient." he murmurs, eyes trained on your wetness mixing with his. sukuna wanted nothing more than to sink into you, but he was too drunk on your juices to not savor the sight before him.
when he does push forward, the sound that leaves him is almost a growl.
“god, you feel so—” he cuts himself off, burying his face in your neck as he starts to move, slow and deep. the table creaks under the force of him. you can feel he's getting impossibly bigger inside you.
sukuna fucks you like the pressure cooker of emotions exploded and his body can't restrain any further. the pace picks up fast, every stroke carrying the weight of months of wanting you, of not understanding why a paradoxical girl like you has him this wrecked.
you wrap your legs around his waist and meet every thrust. your hands slide up his back, pink nails dragging a path of angry red lines, pushing him to hit inside you harder. the way he shudders under the touch tells you everything.
physically sukuna may be in complete control: pinning you, filling you, setting a growing velocity that has you gasping. but mentally, you owned every inch of him. you feel it in the way he chases the soft sounds you make, how he softens the second you lay kisses on his skin, when his rhythm stutters when you breathe his name on the shell of his ear.
“look at me,” you murmur.
he does, immediately. sukuna's eyes were dark and a little wild, pupils blown. his face was flushed a light red and sweat beaded on the surface. the second your gaze holds his, he groans like it hurts, hips snapping harder.
you come again with him watching, pussy tightening around him in pulsing waves. the feeling rips the last of his control. he buries himself to the hilt and follows with a broken sound against your mouth, spilling deep, body trembling through it like the release is almost too much.
his hands have gentled on your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles. he’s still inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hoarsely. "i haven't acted this unhinged since i was twenty."
you brush a strand of pink hair off his forehead fondly and watch the way the simple touch makes his eyes flutter shut for a second. “i must give you real big feelings, huh?”
sukuna’s laugh rumbles, a little helpless. he turns his head just enough to press a kiss in your hair. “you have no idea.”
this was fully written with big feelings by ariana grande on loop for more than two whole hours. proof ⤵
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