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Summary: You are Itadori Yuji’s best friend and so close that you practically live in their house at this point. What started as a simple friendship turned into you overstaying and somehow never leaving.
But while everything feels easy with Yuji, it’s a completely different story with his brother, Sukuna. The two of you share a complicated friend-to-enemy dynamic, filled with tension that’s impossible to ignore. Especially when Sukuna himself is a walking sin that constantly tempting your once-innocent nature to cross lines you never thought you would.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, AGE-GAP, AU, HEAVY SMUT, explicit content, mature language, sexual innuendo, erotic, possessive, caught of jerking off, cum swallowing, mutual pining, heavy tension, ownership, lots of teasing, manhandling, petname, dirty talk, deflowering, degradation, oral activities, size difference, unprotected, PiV, squirting, spanking, fingering, blowjob, deepthroat, overstimulation, breeding, praising ,markings, rough sex, older man x younger woman
The summer heat clung to everything in the Itadori house like a second skin, thick and unrelenting. You kicked off your sneakers at the genkan the second you stepped inside while already calling out the familiar "Tadaimaaa!" even though this wasn’t technically your home. It might as well have been.
Jin’s warm “Okaeri!” floated from the kitchen and followed by the comforting clatter of a knife against a cutting board. You padded into the living room on socked feet while expecting to find Yuji sprawled on the couch with a manga or more likely half-asleep with his mouth open and drooling on the remote. Instead, your gaze snagged on broad shoulders with the black ink curling over tanned skin like spilled midnight, and the low, but lazy sprawl of Ryomen Sukuna occupying the entire sofa like he owned the damn planet.
He was wearing those stupid gray basketball shorts again, the ones that rode dangerously high on thick thighs whenever he shifted, and a black tank top so thin it might as well have been painted on. One arm was slung over the backrest while the other cradled a cold beer bottle against his abs.
The condensation dripped slowly down the glass and tracing a glistening path over one of the dark tattoos that wrapped his oblique. You hated how your eyes followed that droplet for half a second too long.
“ Oi, brat!” He drawled without looking up from his phone.
“ The stray kitten’s back.”
You bristled instantly. “ I have a name, asshole.”
“ Yeah. And I still don’t care.” Finally, those crimson eyes flicked up.
“ Are you gonna stand there gawking all day or actually come inside?”
“ I’m not gawking.” You snapped but your cheeks were already heating and your body was traitorous.
“ I’m looking for Yuji.”
“ He’s in the shower. Probably jerking off to that new idol PV again.”
“ Sukuna!” Yuji’s indignant yell echoed down the hallway before he even appeared while the towel slung around his neck and hair dripped pink strands onto his shoulders.
“ Stop saying gross shit to her!”
Sukuna smirked, slow and filthy. “ I’m just stating facts, brat. You’re the one getting defensive.”
You crossed your arms and tried to look unaffected. “ Whatever. I’m stealing your onigiri stash, Yuji.”
“ Already in the fridge.” Yuji grinned while trotting over to sling an arm around your shoulders like he’d done since you were both seven and he was still shorter than you.
“ Dad made extra salmon ones ‘cause he knew you’d show up.”
You leaned into him automatically and the easy familiarity ground you while Yuji smelled like citrus body wash and home.
Sukuna watched the whole exchange with half-lidded eyes, lips curling. “ Cute. Real domestic. You two gonna start braiding each other’s hair next?”
“ Jealous?” You shot back before you could stop yourself.
Big mistake.
The air changed when Sukuna set the beer down with deliberate slowness while his muscles shifted under skin like coiled pythons waking up. He rose and stalked toward you both with the lazy prowl of something that knew it was apex.
Yuji stiffened beside you. “ Hey. Back off.”
Sukuna ignored him completely. He stopped just close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. Heat rolled off him in waves like a summer sweat and cedar and something darker like something that made your pulse kick hard against your throat.
“ You're still so easy to rile up.” He murmured with his voice low enough that it felt private even with Yuji right there.
“ Look at you…already blushing like a virgin schoolgirl.”
“ I’m not…” Your voice cracked. Mortifying.
He leaned in another fraction and close enough you could count the silver ring in his bottom lip. “ Liar.”
Yuji shoved between you two so fast you stumbled back a step. “ I said back off, Sukuna!”
Sukuna’s chuckle was dark velvet. “ Protective little brother. How noble.”
Then, without warning, he hooked an arm around Yuji’s neck in a mockery of a headlock but gentle enough not to actually hurt and firm enough to make Yuji squawk.
“ Sukuna!”
“ Relax, pinky. I’m not gonna eat your precious best friend.” He ruffled Yuji’s wet hair hard enough to make him yelp, then shoved him sideways while Yuji’s shoulder clipped the wall with a dramatic thud.
“ Ow! You dick!”
You rounded on Sukuna as your fists clenched. “ You’re such a…”
He caught your incoming punch mid-air like it weighed nothing then fingers wrapping around your wrist. Not tight, just…there.
Your breath hitched when he tugged you forward one tiny step, but not enough to press you against him. Just enough to make you feel the gravity well of his body heat.
“ Careful, kitten.” He said softly and almost sweetly.
“ Keep swinging at me like that and I might start thinking you want my hands on you.”
Your mouth went dry.
Yuji was already scrambling back to his feet while whining. “ Sukuna, I swear—”
Sukuna didn’t look away from you. He lifted his free hand then his thumb brushing the center of your forehead in the lightest flick and a sharp sting bloomed instantly.
“ Ow!”
He released your wrist like he’d never held it at all and stepped back while smirking. “ See? Easy."
You rubbed the spot furiously and glaring murder, but your heart was trying to crawl up your throat and out your mouth.
Yuji grabbed your shoulders from behind and pulled you against his chest protectively. “ Stop being a creep to my best friend, you overgrown tattooed bastard!”
Sukuna rolled his eyes so hard it was audible. “ She’s not five anymore, idiot. She can handle a little teasing.”
His gaze slid back to you. “ Can you?”
You swallowed. “ I hate you.”
“ Yeah?” He tilted his head then his smile went razor-sharp.
“ Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”
He turned and sauntered toward the hallway while his broad back flexed under the tank top like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. At the threshold he paused then glanced over his tattooed shoulder.
“ By the way…” He added casually.
“ Next time you stare at my abs that long? I’m gonna start charging admission.”
Your face went nuclear.
Yuji groaned into your hair. “ I’m gonna kill him one day.”
You didn’t answer. Because beneath the embarrassment or beneath the fury like something hotter and more dangerous had taken root in your chest, and it had sharp teeth and crimson eyes and it was not going away anytime soon. Sukuna disappeared down the hall as the living room felt colder without him in it and you hated that most of all.
…
The late afternoon sun slanted through the living room windows in lazy gold bars while turning the dust motes into tiny fireflies. You were cross-legged on the floor helping Yuji sort through the mountain of takeout bags Jin had just dumped on the coffee table of karaage, yakitori, gyoza, tempura shrimp, and the works. The smell of hot oil and soy sauce was already making your stomach growl like an impatient dog.
Jin kicked off his work shoes at the genkan and padded in, loosening his tie with one hand. “ I’m home. I brought enough to feed an army or at least my three overgrown kids.”
Yuji perked up like a golden retriever. “ Dad! You’re the best!”
Jin ruffled his son’s hair, then glanced around. “ Where’s your brother?”
Yuji’s face soured instantly. “ He locked himself in his room after he shoved me into the wall and flicked her forehead like she’s a vending machine that ate his coin.”
Jin sighed, the long-suffering sound of a father who’d seen this movie a hundred times. He turned to you while his expression softened. “ Sorry about him, sweetheart. He’s got the emotional intelligence of a brick.
You shrugged and popped a stolen piece of karaage into your mouth. “ I’m used to it. He rage-baits me every time our paths cross. It’s basically his love language at this point.”
Jin barked a laugh.
“ You’ve got more patience than this one.” He jerked a thumb at Yuji.
“ These two fight over the dumbest things. Remember that time I came home and they both had black eyes?”
Yuji groaned dramatically while flopping backward onto the carpet. “ Dad, don’t…”
“ Tekken betrayal of the century.” Jin continued gleefully.
“ Sukuna beat him senseless in the game, and Yuji only realized halfway through that big bro was just mashing buttons against the CPU because the second controller wasn’t even plugged in.”
You choked on your karaage and the laughter bubbling up so hard tears pricked your eyes.
Yuji shot upright with his cheeks flaming. “ That was the worst betrayal in human history! I trusted him!”
“ You were twelve.” You wheezed.
“ It still counts!”
Jin chuckled while shaking his head. “ Stop acting like a kid, Yuji. You’re twenty-two now. It's time to be a man.”
You leaned over and stage-whispered. “ He still cries when Megumi and Nobara steal his last mochi.”
Yuji’s mouth dropped open in theatrical horror. “ I do not…okay, I did, but that was the last strawberry mochi of the day! They’re monsters! I love mochi more than I love them. It was worth the tears.”
You and Jin lost it completely while laughing until your sides hurt. Jin finally wiped his eyes and nodded toward the stairs. “ Go drag your Sukuna down here. Dinner’s getting cold, and the four of us are eating together whether he likes it or not.”
You froze mid-bite. “ Me? Why me? Yuji’s the younger brother. It's sibling jurisdiction.”
“ Yuji’s busy plating everything so it looks nice.” Jin said innocently.
“ You’re the only free operative.”
Yuji gave you puppy eyes and a thumbs-up. Traitor.
You sighed like a condemned prisoner and trudged upstairs but each step heavier than the last. Sukuna’s door loomed at the end of the hallway in black, imposing, and same as him.
You knocked three times. “ Oi, asshole. Dinner. Your dad’s orders.”
Silence.
You knocked again, harder. “ Sukuna, I swear…”
Nothing.
You pressed your ear to the wood. A faint, rhythmic sound is slick, wet, and unmistakable. Your brain short-circuited for half a second before you jerked back while your face was burning.
Nope. Nope nope nope. You were not hearing what you thought you were hearing.
You knocked one last time but still no answer.
“ Fine.” You muttered.
“ You asked for it.”
The knob turned easily. It's unlocked and a big mistake on his part.
You shoved the door open. “ Look, if you’re gonna sulk like a…”
The scream tore out of you before you could stop it. Sukuna was sprawled on his bed, completely naked, and sheets kicked to the floor. His hand was wrapped around his cock that was thick, flushed, and angrily hard and curved against the ridged plane of his abdomen while his tattoos snaked down his hips like dark promises.
His eyes snapped to you and wide with shock for maybe one entire heartbeat then he moved. He lurched off the bed so fast he stumbled while cursing under his breath. In two strides he was at the door then slamming it shut behind you and pinning you against the wood with the sheer size of his body.
One massive hand clamped over your mouth with the same hand that had just been—
Your eyes went huge because you tasted salt and skin and something musky that made your knees threaten to give out. He bent at the waist while keeping his erection from brushing your stomach, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off it.
His voice was low and gravel-rough. “ Scream like that again and the whole house hears. Nod if you’re gonna be quiet.”
You nodded frantically then he eased his palm away while you sucked in air like you’d been drowning.
“ Put…put some damn clothes on!” You hissed then slapping both hands over your eyes.
A low, dark chuckle as the fabric rustled. “ You can look now, princess.”
You peeked through your fingers. He's wearing his gray basketball shorts but still shirtless. His cock still visibly straining against the thin material like it had personal beef with gravity.
You dropped your hands and glared at the ceiling. “ What the hell were you doing?”
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe while crossing his arms so his biceps bulged. “ What do normal men do when they’re alone and horny? Use your imagination.”
“ You’re disgusting.”
“ And you’re a pervert.” He tilted his head.
“ You were barging into my room without waiting for permission. What, are you part of some special task force now?”
“ I knocked! Three times!”
“ You should’ve waited like a good girl.”
You groaned then rubbing your temples. “ I’m not innocent anymore. Thanks to you and your…”
You gestured wildly at his crotch. “ That.”
He stepped closer. “ You’re still untouched and still innocent. You are just dramatic.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “ Whatever. Your dad and Yuji are waiting. Dinner. All four of us. Move your ass.”
You turned to leave. His hand shot out, not grabbing your wrist this time, and just brushing the small of your back as you passed. You froze for half a second when he leaned down until his mouth was near your ear with his voice a velvet threat.
“ You just gave me the worst case of blue balls in recorded history, kitten. You interrupted me right at the edge.”
Your breath caught.
He continued. “ You owe me, and I collect debts.”
You shoved the door open and fled down the hallway without looking back while your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. Behind you, Sukuna stayed leaning against the frame and watching the spot where you’d disappeared around the corner as he dragged a hand down his face while muttering a low and filthy curse.
“ Fuck.”
He glanced down at the tent in his shorts since he's still painfully hard.
“ Soon.” He promised the empty room.
“ You’re gonna pay that debt, and I’m gonna enjoy every second of it.”
Downstairs, Yuji called your name cheerfully while you forced a smile, sat at the table, and tried very hard not to think about the way Sukuna’s voice had curled around the word “soon” like smoke.
Dinner was going to be torture.
…
Days blurred into a sticky and uncomfortable haze after That Incident. You couldn’t unsee it and couldn’t un-remember. Sukuna’s cock had burned itself into the back of your eyelids with photographic cruelty. You’d be mid-lecture in class, pen hovering over notes, and bam, a flash of pink flesh slapping against tattooed abs. You’d flinch so hard your knee would bang the desk.
Today was no exception.
You, Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi were crammed around the low table in the school library’s group study corner while the textbooks splayed open like fallen soldiers. Midterms loomed like a guillotine. Nobara was viciously underlining kanji while Megumi stared at his notes like they personally offended him. Yuji was chewing the end of his pencil into splinters.
You were trying to focus on the quadratic formula when the memory hit again about the nine inches or more of shameless girth.
Your whole body jerked.
Nobara’s pen froze. “ The hell was that?”
Yuji blinked at you, wide-eyed. “ Are you okay? You look like you saw a curse.”
Megumi lifted one unimpressed brow. “ You’ve been doing that all week. What’s wrong with you?”
“ Nothing.” You squeaked, but voice cracking like a middle-schooler’s.
“ It's just…math. Math is scary.”
They all stared.
You buried your face in your hands. “ Shut up. Let’s just finish this chapter.”
The walk to Yuji’s house after school felt longer than usual. Every time a tall guy with broad shoulders passed by on the sidewalk, your heart lurched like it was trying to escape your ribcage while you kept your eyes glued to the pavement. When you finally stepped inside the familiar genkan, kicking off your shoes, the house smelled like laundry detergent and whatever Jin was simmering in the kitchen.
It's safe and normal.
Except Sukuna was there.
He lounged against the kitchen doorway in nothing but low-slung black sweats and a white wifebeater stretched tight across his chest with his arms crossed while watching you like a cat that had already eaten the canary and was debating dessert. His crimson eyes tracked every flustered twitch of your expression. He didn’t say a word but the slow curl of his mouth said everything.
You glared daggers. Don’t you dare.
He just tilted his head.
Yuji bounded in behind you. “ I gotta run back to school real quick…Nobara’s gonna skin me alive if I don’t give her that stupid pouch back. I forgot it in my locker earlier.”
You grabbed his sleeve. “ Hurry back, please.”
He grinned while ruffling your hair until it stuck up in every direction. “ I will! Ten minutes, tops. Don’t let Sukuna bully you too much while I’m gone.”
Then he was gone and the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence settled like humidity.
You huffed, dropped your bag by the couch, and flopped down at the low table where all your group project materials were still scattered from last weekend of construction paper, glue sticks, markers, and a metal ruler glinting innocently in the afternoon light.
You reached for it automatically while needing something to fidget with. The second your fingers closed around the cool metal when the memory slammed back.
A thick shaft measured against your horrified palm with Sukuna’s smug voice murmuring numbers like it was casual conversation.
You yelped and flung the ruler across the room like it had bitten you and it clattered against the wall until aheavy footsteps thudded down the stairs. Sukuna appeared at the bottom, step fresh from the shower while his hair damp and pushed back, and skin still glistening at his collarbones. A towel was slung over one shoulder as he looked down at you then sprawled on the floor clutching your chest like you’d been shot.
“ You look like shit.” He observed.
“ Shut up.” You hissed.
He ignored you completely and dropped onto the couch right beside you while the cushions dipped under his weight.
You shoved at his shoulder. “ There’s a whole other couch, you giant!”
He didn’t budge. He just smirked. “ I like this one.”
“ You’re not small enough to share it!”
His eyes glittered. “ I've never been small, kitten.”
Your face ignited. You smacked his bicep hard but his muscle barely flexed. He laughed and the sound vibrated through where your bodies touched then his gaze slid sideways and landed on the ruler you’d thrown. He reached down then picked it up with two fingers like it was evidence, and held it between you both.
“ Nine.” He said conversationally.
You choked. “ What?”
“ Nine inches.” He tapped the metal against his palm.
“ Thick and heavy when it’s hard. You already know.”
Heat roared up your neck. “ Why the fuck would you just…tell me that?!”
He shrugged. “ I figured you deserved the full specs as a friend.”
“ That is the most useless information anyone has ever forced on me.”
Another shrug. “ It will never be useless. One good shot of my swimmers and boom…someone’s knocked up. Biology lesson, free of charge.”
You hit him again harder but he just laughed louder.
“ I’m not lying.” He added, but softer now.
“ It’s nine. Wanna double-check?”
Your mouth went dry. “ I don’t believe you.”
Big mistake.
He chuckled and without breaking eye contact then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and dragged them down just enough. His cock sprang free and already half-hard while slapping heavily against the white fabric still stretched over his abs.
You gasped so loud it echoed then your hands flew to cover your eyes. Sukuna caught your right wrist, gentle but unyielding, and tugged it down until your palm hovered an inch from the ruler he’d laid alongside his length.
“ Look.” He murmured.
You couldn’t not look.
The ruler’s markings lined up perfectly in nine inches or maybe a hair over. The girth made the numbers look almost comical. He released your hand as you jerked back like you’d been burned as he tucked himself away with casual efficiency while the waistband snapping back into place, then dropped his head against the couch cushions like he’d just finished reading the newspaper.
You stared at him with your mouth open as your brain short-circuited. “ You're a monster.”
He smirked without opening his eyes. “ Yes, my cock is a real monster.”
You shoved him again but he laughed then he cracked one eye open while his gaze sliding over your burning face and to your heaving chest.
“ I'm already hard again.” He said, but almost thoughtful.
“ I guess I’ll have to take care of it.”
Your breath hitched.
He stretched as his arms flexed and tattoos shifted like living shadows. “ I hope no one interrupts me this time.”
He stood and let you feel every inch of the space he’d occupied. At the foot of the stairs he paused, glanced back over his shoulder.
“ The door's unlocked...” He said.
“ If you get curious.”
Then he was gone as the footsteps fading up the stairs. You sat there while your heart was slamming against your ribs and thighs pressed together so tight they trembled. The ruler lay abandoned on the floor like a crime scene exhibit as you stared at it.
Nine inches and you were never going to survive this house.
…
The clock on the wall ticked past midnight and each second louder than the last in the quiet Itadori house. Yuji was dead to the world on the couch while his one arm flung over his face and soft snores rumbling every few breaths. The construction paper, glue, and half-finished poster boards littered the low table like the aftermath of a craft explosion. You rubbed your eyes, neck stiff, and stomach snarling like an angry cat.
“ Fine.” You muttered while pushing to your feet.
“ Snack break.”
The kitchen was dark except for the weak glow of the fridge light when you opened it as the cold air washed over your bare legs in your sleep shorts and an oversized tee you’d borrowed from Yuji years ago. You bent at the waist while rummaging past leftover karaage and a questionable yogurt and hunting for anything edible and quiet.
A shadow shifted behind you.
Before you could scream, a hard body slammed you forward and pinning your chest to the cold fridge door. One massive hand clamped over your mouth; the other braced beside your head and caged you in.
Your eyes flew wide.
A crimson and glowing faintly in the dim light.
Sukuna.
You shoved at his chest but it was useless but he didn’t budge.
He leaned in until his lips brushed your ear. “ Quiet, kitten. Wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping hero, would we?”
You wrenched your head sideways and voice a furious whisper against his palm. “ What the hell are you doing?”
He eased his hand off your mouth but kept you pinned. “ I'm hungry.”
You glanced back at the fridge contents. “ There’s…food. Right here.”
He groaned low in his throat, but the sound vibrated through your back. “ I'm not hungry for food.”
Your brows shot up. “ Then what…”
His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lowered before snapping back to your eyes. “ You.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
Before you could process, he spun you around then lifted you like you weighed nothing and slung you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Your yelp was muffled against his back. “ Sukuna, put me down!”
“ Shh.” He strode through the dark house then past the living room where Yuji snored obliviously, past Jin’s closed bedroom door, and out the sliding glass door to the backyard.
The cool night air hits your skin and the moonlight silvered the grass. He carried you to the far corner where an ancient ginkgo tree spread massive branches, its trunk thick enough to hide a small clearing behind it of his secret spot. A worn outdoor mat was already spread there like he’d planned this.
He dropped you onto it but not gently.
You scrambled to sit up, heart racing. “ What are you…”
His mouth crashed onto yours in hard, hungry, and no preamble. You shoved at his shoulders but the heat of him and the way his tongue immediately pushed past your lips made your arms tremble. He tasted like mint and danger while his tongue swept yours like he's claiming then sucked hard enough to pull a whimper from your throat. He broke away just long enough to spit into your open mouth. You choked with eyes wide, but he sealed his lips over yours again and forced you to swallow.
“ Fuck.” He growled against your lips.
“ I've been starving for this.”
He caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His free hand tilted your jaw and mouth descending to your throat. His teeth grazed skin then and the sharp sting bloomed into heat.
You winced, squirming. “ Ow!”
He sucked harder while marking you with wet, open-mouthed kisses, and leaving blooming red-purple bruises down the column of your neck. When he pulled back and satisfied with his handiwork, he hooked fingers into the hem of your shirt and ripped.
“ Hey!” You hissed but mortified.
“ That was…”
He laughed. “I’ll buy you ten more.”
Then his mouth was on you. His tongue flicked over one nipple while his fingers rolled the other. You arched involuntarily and a startled moan slipping free. The sensation was too much that made your eyes roll back. He switched sides by sucking hard enough to make your toes curl.
Then lower.
His tongue traced a slow, wet line down your stomach, and dipping into your navel that made you twitch. He shoved your shorts and panties down in one impatient yank then tossed them aside. You tried to close your legs but he wedged his shoulders between your thighs while spreading you wide.
“ Look at you…” He murmured.
“ Already dripping.”
Before you could protest, his mouth was on your cunt. He flattened his tongue and dragged it from your entrance to your clit in one long and sloppy stroke. Then he sucked your clit between his lips while flicking the tip of his tongue over it in rapid little pulses.
You cried out then slapped a hand over your own mouth. He groaned into you like he was devouring the sweetest fruit by slurping, sucking, and lapping at your slick like a man dying of thirst as the wet sounds echoed in the quiet night. Your thighs clamped around his head on instinct, heels digging into his back, and pulling him deeper. One hand released your wrist as the two thick fingers traced your slit while gathering wetness then pressed slowly inside.
You whimpered at the stretch.
He hushed you against your cunt. “ Relax, kitten. Let me in.”
He curled his fingers and searched until he found it. Your back bowed off the mat. A high and broken sound tore from your throat. He watched you the whole time as he pumped slowly while hitting that spot over and over.
The heat coiled tight in your belly.
“ Sukuna…” You gasped.
“ Cum for me.” He growled against your clit.
“ Give it to me. Your first one’s mine.”
He sucked harder and fingers crooked deeper.
You shattered as your back arched, thighs trembling, and a silent scream caught behind your teeth as pleasure ripped through you in blinding waves. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers while the slick gushed over his hand. When the aftershocks faded, he pulled his fingers free and brought them to his mouth as he sucked them clean with a slow drag of his tongue. His eyes rolled back and a guttural groan vibrated in his chest.
“ Fuck.” He rasped.
“ It's the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
You lay there panting, dazed, thighs still shaking, body humming, and mind blank. He hovered over you, forearms braced on either side of your head, cock straining hard against his sweats, and a dark wet spot already blooming at the tip. Then he dragged the pad of his thumb over your swollen bottom lip.
“ We're not done yet., kitten” He murmured.
“ Not even close.”
Moonlight caught the sheen of your arousal on his chin while your heart was stuttered. Somewhere inside the house as Yuji snored, but under the ginkgo tree, the night felt endless and dangerously alive.
…
The night air was thick with the scent of ginkgo leaves and your own arousal still clinging to Sukuna’s skin. You lay flat on the outdoor mat, chest heaving, and thighs slick and trembling from the orgasm he’d ripped out of you. He hadn’t given you time to recover.
Instead, he rolled onto his side beside you and propped himself on one elbow while his crimson eyes dark and glittering in the moonlight. He watched you like a predator deciding which part to devour next. Then he shoved his sweatpants down just enough. His cock sprang free again and slapped wetly against the ridged plane of his tattooed abdomen.
The sound was obscene in the quiet backyard.
Your breath caught then he caught your wrist before you could pull away and guide your small hand to wrap around him. You gasped since he's so thick because your fingers didn’t meet while the vein along the underside throbbed against your palm like a second heartbeat.
Sukuna leaned in and lips brushed the shell of your ear. “ Give me a blow, kitten.”
Your eyes widened. “ I…I don’t know how.”
He chuckled. “ I’ll teach you.”
With easy strength he maneuvered you and settled you between his spread thighs. You knelt there with your face inches from his length while your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. He gripped the base and playfully dragged the tip across your cheek, then laid it along the side of your face for comparison. The head reached past your temple when the shaft stretched longer than the width of your features.
“ Fuck.” He laughed.
“ It's still bigger than your whole damn face.”
He gave it a light slap against your cheek that made you whine.
“ Hey!”
“ Shh.” He thumbed your bottom lip and parting it.
“ Open."
You hesitated then obeyed as your lips parting on a shaky breath.
“ Good girl.”
He guided your head forward. You started with tentative kitten licks along the underside while tasting salt and skin.
Sukuna groaned. “ That’s not how you eat a cock, kitten. It’s not fucking ice cream.”
He fisted your hair but not hard enough to hurt, just enough to control and brought your mouth to the base.
“ Flatten your tongue and feel every vein.”
You did as you pressed the flat of your tongue against him and dragged up slowly, tracing the thick, and ridged lines. His hips twitched then another rough groan tore from his throat.
“ Like that.” He rasped.
“ Again.”
You repeated the motion but bolder now and mapping him with your tongue until he was leaking steadily against your lips.
He pulled you back to the tip. “ Open wider.”
You did.
He sank in when the fat head stretched your lips wide. You gagged almost immediately, throat fluttering, and eyes watering.
“ Breathe through your nose.” He murmured while his thumb stroked your cheek.
“ Relax your throat.”
You tried as you inhaled shakily through your nose when the scent of him filled your lungs. He started moving in shallow thrusts at first then letting you adjust and deeper. The lewd wet sounds of your mouth filled the night of glok-glok-glok every time he pushed past your soft palate.
Your hands braced on his thighs as your nails dug in. He pulled out just enough to let you gasp then slid back in. You gagged again harder when the tears spilled down your cheeks. He laid you flat on your back, shifted to straddle your chest, and knees bracketing your shoulders. One hand wrapped loosely around your throat while the other guided his cock back between your lips.
“ Look at me.” He ordered.
Your watery eyes met his then he thrust while watching the bulge form in your throat every time he bottomed out. The sight made his jaw clench and pupils blown wide.
“ Fuck.” He growled.
“ You take it so well.”
He picked up speed while the bulge appeared and disappeared rhythmically. Your throat worked around him, fluttering, and trying to accommodate. His grip on your throat tightened fractionally but just enough to feel your pulse racing under his palm.
“ I'm gonna cum.” He warned.
“ Swallow every drop. Not a fucking drop wasted.”
You whimpered around him as he slammed deep one last time then came. He's flooding your throat in heavy pulses. You swallowed reflexively, over and over, and your throat worked around the head as he groaned long and low. His hips jerked with each spurt until he was empty while twitching against your tongue.
He stayed there a moment, panting, and letting you feel the softening weight of him on your tongue. Then he pulled out slowly as the strings of saliva and cum connected your swollen lips to his tip. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting what had escaped, and pushed it back into your mouth.
You sucked automatically while his eyes darkened further.
“ Good girl.” He murmured.
“ You took your first load like you were made for it.”
You lay there dazed, lips puffy, chin slick, throat raw, body buzzing, and mind blank except for the taste of him still coating your tongue. He dropped down beside you again then pulled you against his chest without asking while his one arm banded around your waist then he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple.
“ Don’t think we’re done.” He whispered against your hair.
“ Not even close.”
Somewhere in the house, Yuji shifted on the couch and mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. But under the tree, your heart still raced like it would never slow down and Sukuna’s hand was already sliding possessively down your spine.
…
The night had cooled, but your skin burned where Sukuna touched you. You lay boneless on the mat while chest rising and falling in uneven pants then the aftershocks of your first orgasm still rippling through your core. He hadn’t moved far but he just shifted so he could watch your face and thumb brushing lazy circles over the fresh hickeys blooming across your collarbone. Then he hooked one of your thighs over his hip and spread you wider. Your breath hitched when you felt the blunt and hot head of his cock nudge your entrance again that slick with your release and his spit, but still impossibly thick.
You swallowed hard.
This was it. The line you’d never crossed. Your best friend’s older brother and the same man who’d spent years tormenting you with smirks and teasing words. Now, he was about to—
“ Sukuna…” Your voice came out small.
“ Maybe it won’t fit. You’re…you’re so big and I’m…”
He smirked, but his eyes softened a fraction and just enough to notice. “ Everything fits, kitten. Trust me.”
He dragged the head through your folds again while coating himself and teasing your clit until your hips jerked.
“ You’re gonna enjoy every fucking inch.”
He pressed forward as the thick head breached you while the insistent stretch that made your eyes water instantly. You whimpered with your nails digging into his shoulders, and bit your lip so hard you tasted copper.
“ Shh.” He murmured against your temple while his free hand cradling the back of your head and pressing your face into the crook of his neck.
“ Breathe, kitten.”
You sobbed quietly into his skin because you're too full already and he’d barely started. He stayed perfectly still while letting your walls flutter and adjust around just the head. Every pulse of your cunt seemed to pull him deeper and greedy despite the sting.
“ Fuck.” He hissed through clenched teeth.
“ You're so goddamn tight and sucking me in like you never want me to leave.”
After long seconds or maybe a minute, he felt the tension in your thighs ease the tiniest bit. He pushed another inch. You cried out while the fresh tears slipped down your cheeks.
“ Easy.” He soothed.
“ Pain’s gonna fade. I promise.”
He kissed your hairline, your temple, and the corner of your eye while his hips rocked in the smallest, shallowest thrusts, and coaxed your body to open. Then he sank the rest in one long and unrelenting glide. Your back bowed and a broken sob tore from your throat. You shoved weakly at his chest, overwhelmed, but he caught your wrists and pinned them gently beside your head, blanketing you with his weight, and keeping every inch buried to the hilt.
“ Shh, shh…I’ve got you.” He rasped while his lips brushed your ear.
“ You’re doing so good and taking all of me like you were fucking made for it.”
Your walls pulsed around him while trying to push him out and pull him deeper at the same time. You could feel him throbbing inside you while the head kissed your cervix. He stayed like that, unmoving, until your sobs quieted to shaky breaths. Then slowly he pulled back an inch and slid home again.
You whimpered. It still hurt, but underneath the sting something warmer was building. He set a careful rhythm by deep and measured rolls of his hips that dragged every ridge along your sensitive walls. Each thrust nudged that spot inside you until the pain began melting into something else entirely.
“ Fuck…there it is.” He growled when your hips lifted to meet him.
He shifted by rising onto his forearms so he could look down at you then watch your face while he fucked you slow and deep. He dropped his head, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your neck again, and sucking a fresh bruise while his cock pistoned in and out. You clung to him while your nails raking down his back and leaving angry red lines across tattooed muscle. Every time he bottomed out you gasped and your thighs trembled.
The pain is gone now.
He pulled out suddenly and flipped you onto your stomach.
“ Ass up.” He ordered.
You obeyed on shaky limbs. He gripped your hair in gentle but firm, then tugged your head back so he could whisper against your ear while he slammed back inside from behind.
“ Such a perfect little cunt.” He growled while his teeth grazed your earlobe.
“ You were made to take my cock and listen to how wet you are…those filthy fucking sounds.”
Skin slapped skin in loud, rhythmic, and echoing under the ginkgo branches. He fucked you harder now, hips snapping, and balls slapping your clit with every thrust.
Then he stopped.
“ Stand up.”
You whined in protest but let him pull you to your feet on trembling legs. He spun you to face the tree trunk then bent you slightly forward and entered you again from behind but standing this time. The height difference forced you onto your toes. He lifted you easily with hands under your thighs, spreading you wide and fucked up into you with his brutal rolling thrusts. Your feet dangled. You were helpless, impaled, and bouncing on his cock while he held you like you weighed nothing.
The new angle hit deeper and harder and the heat coiled tight in your belly again but faster this time.
“ Sukuna…” You choked.
“ Yeah.” He grunted.
“ Cum with me. Milk me dry.”
A few more punishing strokes and you shattered as your walls clamping down so hard he cursed in loud and ragged. He slammed deep one last time and came then painting your insides while your own release pulsed around him. He kept you lifted while his cock still twitching and pumping the last of his release until nothing was left. When he finally eased out, a gush of cum and slick followed while dripping down your thighs in obscene rivulets. He turned you gently and his eyes dropped to his shaft then a thin smear of blood streaked the base.
He smirked.
“ First blood.” He murmured.
“ Mine.”
Then he lowered you both back to the mat and pulled you into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you while one hand stroked your spine in long and soothing lines. You were exhausted since your limbs are heavy, mind fuzzy, and core still fluttering with aftershocks.
He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “ How was your first, kitten?”
You buried your face against his pec. “ I didn’t expect…it to be so tiring.”
He laughed. “ I'm glad you liked the performance. I’m legendary, y’know. Girls line up for this dick.”
You smacked his arm weakly. “ Stop. Don’t ruin the moment, you disgusting man.”
He chuckled again but softer this time, and caught your hand as he brought your knuckles to his lips.
“ I’ve tasted plenty of pussy in my life.” He said quietly.
“ But yours?” He kissed each finger.
“ This is the last one I’ll ever want. No one else. Just you.”
You froze.
He met your eyes. “ I mean it.”
Your throat tightened. Because you didn’t know what to say, so you just snuggled closer and tucked your face under his chin. He hummed in approval while his arms were tightening.
“ Sleep.” He murmured against your hair.
“ I’ve got you.”
Under the ginkgo leaves, moonlight filtering through in silver patches, you drifted off to the steady thump of his heartbeat against your cheek. For the first time in years, the house behind you felt far away while the man holding you felt dangerously and perfectly close.
…
The weeks after that night under the ginkgo tree felt like living inside a fever dream you couldn’t quite wake from.
Sukuna started texting the very next morning.
Oversized tattooed Gremlin: You alive, kitten?
Oversized tattooed Gremlin: Answer.
Oversized tattooed Gremlin: Now.
You stared at the screen in the homeroom, cheeks heating, and thumbs hovering. You typed Yes and hit send before you could overthink it.
His reply came in seconds.
Oversized tattooed Gremlin: Good girl. I miss your mouth already.
You nearly dropped your phone.
From then on, it was relentless.
Every day, good morning texts that sounded more like orders, random photos of his coffee mug captioned of ‘thinking of you choking on something hotter’, and voice notes of him growling your name just to hear how it sounded when he was half-hard and bored at work.
If you took longer than ten minutes to reply, your phone rang and rang until you picked it up.
The first time you let it go to voicemail, he called back-to-back six times. When you finally answered, breathless and hiding in the school bathroom stall.
“ Where the fuck were you?”
“ I was in class!”
“ Class ends. You don’t ghost me. Reply or pick up like a normal fucking person.”
“ You’re so dramatic.”
“ Says the girl who cried on my cock for the first time.”
You hung up. He called back immediately. You answered because apparently you were weak for crimson-eyed menaces now. He didn’t yell. He just breathed into the receiver like he was trying not to lose it.
“ Don’t do that again.”
“…Okay.”
“ Good.”
He hung up first.
It should’ve annoyed you. Instead your stomach fluttered every time his name lit up your screen.
At the Itadori house, nothing changed on the surface.
You and Sukuna bickered like always.
“ You’re taking up the whole couch again, you oversized tattooed couch gremlin.”
“ Move your tiny ass then, kitten.”
Yuji rolled his eyes. “ You two are worse than siblings.”
Jin just sighed and kept chopping vegetables.
But the second Yuji stepped out to grab soda from the konbini or Jin went to answer a work call, Sukuna moved. One second you were standing by the fridge, then the next your back was against the pantry door, his mouth on yours with hunger and bruising. He kissed like he was starving while tongue sweeping in, claiming, and tasting like he hadn’t seen you in years instead of hours. When he pulled back just enough to speak, his voice was wrecked.
“ I missed you, kitten.”
Your heart did something embarrassing and tripped, then soared.
“ You just saw me yesterday.”
“ It's too long.”
He kissed you again but slower this time and deeper until you were clinging to his shirt and forgetting how to breathe. Then footsteps in the hall as he stepped back like nothing happened with his expression cool and bored again.
You were still dazed and lips swollen, when Yuji walked in.
“ You okay? You look weird.”
“ I…um—yeah. Just…hot.”
Sukuna smirked behind Yuji’s back.
The pattern continued.
He sent bentos to your school of your favorite katsu curry. Once, a bouquet of white camellias arrived at your doorstep and your mom thought they were from Yuji and cooed about what a sweet boy he was. Sukuna corrected her politely when he showed up twenty minutes later to “walk you to the park.”
“ Actually, ma’am, they’re from me.”
Your dad blinked while your mom blinked harder.
“ Oh! Well…thank you, Sukuna-kun. That’s very thoughtful.”
He smiled and bowed slightly. “ My pleasure.”
You stared at him like he’d grown a third head.
Later, when your parents were inside and you two were alone on the porch swing, he pulled you onto his lap without asking. You went willingly and tucked yourself against his broad chest like he was a human furnace. He buried his face in the crook of your neck while he's inhaling deep.
“ You smell like me.” He murmured that almost purring while the vibration went straight down your spine.
“ You’re so clingy.”
“ Shut up. Real men don’t get clingy.”
“ Then what do you call this?”
He nipped your earlobe. “ Possessive.”
You shivered.
He loved marking you, but always in places clothes hid. The inside of your thigh. The curve under your breast. The back of your neck where hair covered the bruise. Each one a secret only he knew about when he peeled your clothes off later and he’d trace them with his tongue sometimes while murmuring praise against your skin.
“ Mine. All fucking mine.”
You never asked what “mine” meant. Because he hadn’t said it. There's no labels, no ‘girlfriend’, or promises spoken aloud. But his actions screamed. He walked you home every single evening he could and it didn't matter if he had late shifts at the garage. He’d wait outside your school gate while leaning against his motorcycle like some delinquent prince with his helmet under one arm.
Your classmates whispered.
“ Is that your boyfriend?”
You blushed. “ He’s…Yuji’s brother.”
“ Uh-huh.”
When you were alone he’d pull you between his thighs on the bike, kiss you stupid under streetlights, and hands roaming but never pushing past what you were ready for.
He is always waiting while you are content.
Because you trusted him.
The way he softened only for you. The way he carried you bridal-style up the stairs when your legs gave out after he’d made you come so hard you saw stars. The way he cleaned you up afterward with a warm cloth, pressing soft kisses to your temple while muttering, “You did so good for me.”
You were waiting for him to say it and to define it. Because every time he looked at you, you felt it like he wasn’t going anywhere.
One night, after he’d snuck into your room through the window like a criminal since your parents were asleep downstairs, he had you straddling his lap on your bed. You were hugging his neck while your face buried in his throat while he rubbed slow circles on your back.
He was quiet for a long time, not until he spoke.
“ You know I’m not good at this shit.”
You lifted your head. “ What shit?”
“ This.” He gestured between you.
“ Feelings, talking, or whatever the fuck we’re doing.”
Your heart kicked hard. He looked away and it was the first time you’d ever seen him avoid eye contact.
“ But I don’t want anyone else touching you and I don’t want to touch anyone else. Ever.”
You swallowed. “ Sukuna…”
“ I’m trying to do this right. For you.” He finally met your eyes.
“ I want you to be mine, officially. No more half-assed bullshit. You want that?”
Your throat closed up. “ Yes.”
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks then he kissed you and it's different from the hungry ones.
This one felt like a vow.
When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours.
“ Girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend now. Say it.”
You smiled through blurry vision. “ I’m your girlfriend.”
He grinned but soft around the edges. “ Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting you go.”
You snuggled back into his chest with your arms tight around him as he purred again. And for the first time since that night under the tree, everything felt…settled. It's not perfect. It's still messy, still full of bickering, secrets, and stolen kisses.
"two steps ahead of you," rival!satoru laughs, and the smugness in his voice makes you clench your jaw. no one seems to get on your nerves like he does. it's something about the way he walks, the way he talks... fuck, the way he breathes. as if it's his world and you're just living in it.
it's condescending, the way he's always able to get under your skin, especially when he's not even trying. when he is trying, though, it's a whole different hell.
exhibit a: right now. how he's leaving hickeys everywhere, even when you've told him not to. there are harsh red bruises blooming on the most inconvenient of spaces, places he knows you'll stress over when trying to cover them up later. (nothing pleases him more than seeing you admit defeat and put on that ugly-ass turtleneck of yours, a sure sign you've given up trying to layer concealer.)
he's got you folded into the meanest mating press, hands gripping your hips to anchor you beneath him as he pulls almost all the way out. the slick head of his cock teases your hot entrance before he slams back in, burying himself deep.
"you're... you're so fuckin' annoying," you mumble between moans. your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him close to you.
"play nice," satoru taunts, "you do wanna cum, don't you?" it seems like more of a rhetorical question, because his next thrust is so rough it knocks the air out of your lungs.
as much as you hate him, he really does know how to show you a good time.
you end up coming before he does, but only after he makes you beg for it like an asshole. the high makes you forget your own name, leaving you to whimper his over and over. a boost for his already high enough ego.
once he's ensured you've been stuffed with enough of his seed, he drops down onto the bed next to you, hands tucked beneath his head, as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. "bet no one else could make you moan like that, huh?"
your head is spinning with a post-sex haze, a soft sheen of sweat on your body. you don't bother to spare him a glance. "fuck you."
satoru just grins, hovering over you once more. "two steps ahead of you."
cw/ themes: nerdjo x f!reader, humanities major reader, STEM major gojo, mean gojo, satoru has a HUGE ego, satoru loves berating reader, mathematics tw, academic stress, power dynamics, satoru becomes a softie, calorie counting, sexually suggestive, fïngering, degradation, (sorta) enemies to lovers, suguru mentioned, wc: 5.8k
based on this writing request ~
PART 2 OUT!
“How many times do I have to tell you - you DON’T have to expand the exponentials each time! Just use the same-base product rule!” Your freshly hired tutor yelled, slamming his hands on your flimsy dorm room table in frustration.
“You can be less mean about it–” You said, feeling anxious from how commanding and ruthless he was.
“I mean – seriously? You’re asking me to be less mean when it’s not getting through your thick head? This is shit that you should’ve learned in high school?!” He continued, his hand running through his disheveled white hair with a scowl on his face.
“Listen. That’s the reason I hired you. I wasn’t good at math. I just need to fucking pass this summer elective, okay?” You looked down, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to roll down your cheeks any moment.
“Even if I doubled my hourly rate, it won’t be enough to tolerate your stupidity.” He scoffed, standing up from the wobbly chair to walk around your room to cool his temper down.
“Please, Satoru. Just this once. I promise once I get my second midterm grades up, I won’t be bothering you too much anymore. I need to pass.” You pleaded, standing up yourself to circle him.
“Fine. But you need to book me more regularly. Because clearly, your self-practice isn’t enough to understand the bare basics of algebra, let alone calculus.”
“Yes, sir.”
—
When you tanked your first midterm for Calculus 1, you had no choice but to seek help from someone else. Going to your professor led you to connect with tutors, who had previously taken the course and were now Teaching Assistants. Scrolling through the tutoring portal, you kept seeing a name pop up again and again - Satoru Gojo, a senior student in Mechanical Engineering with 400 reviews, all rated above 4.5 stars. But his hourly rate made you shiver. $50 for ONE hour. That was insane. Surely, he can’t be that good?
But what could you do? With your scholarship on the line and your friends unable to help much, since they were also humanities majors like you, you decided to use the income from your 2nd part-time job to pay for the tutor temporarily.
As a bioethics major that technically put you under the humanities and social sciences department, you thought you’d escaped the mumbo jumbo of numbers and illogical theorems to focus on more concrete ideas involving ethical theories, rights of patients, laws and health policies, while still being somewhat related to the field of ‘science’. That had made your family of doctors somewhat okay with your decision, as you were the sole member to express your disinterest with dealing with the stress of *actually* being a STEM major who’d be forced to take random math courses. Yes, you hated math that*much.
But as cruel fate was, during the middle of your degree, you were informed that you’d have to take at least 1 ‘technical’ elective to meet all your course credits. Looking through the list, you realized you’d take the lowest level of math being offered, which was Calculus I. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? You were gravely mistaken. Because with what confidence you’d solved problems soon vanished when you saw a shining ‘F’ and ‘meet me before midterm 2’ in your e-mail inbox.
—
You sat waiting in the STEM library on campus for your third session, 15 minutes too late, before Satoru showed up, panting and breathless with thin beads of sweat on his brows, with his headphones hung across his neck.
“Shit, sorry. Was stuck in office hours for a course I’m TAing for.” He flung his backpack on the chair next to him and scrambled to take out his teaching notes that were scattered in his folder. He was so old-fashioned – he preferred writing on paper and had openly expressed his disinterest towards using your iPad for teaching, because he believed paper was the best for retaining information.
“That’s alright. Bought you an iced matcha, by the way.” You smiled, pushing the drink that was trickling with droplets of condensation from the extreme summer heat.
“I don’t drink that sugary shit. Kills my gains.” He muttered, unenthusiastically pushing the drink away.
Gee, thanks. He’s such an asshole.
Satoru was clearly very intelligent. From his description alone, it had seemed that he was one of those typical, lanky, skinny nerds who have extremely pathetic communication skills. Imagine your surprise when he showed up with a backpack covered in band stickers, a side labret lip piercing, and a physique that would make sorority girls sprint to have one night with him. It didn’t make sense; how he found time to study, tutor, be a teaching assistant, and somehow still have a killer, lean and muscular build. It had made you mad when you first saw him, because years in the gym couldn't have gotten you to look as good as he did.
And his personality matched up to his appearance. As if attractive guys weren’t cocky enough, he was beauty with brains, and he was very, very aware of it. He was very sure of himself and very confident with his words – something that made you slightly fearful of him during your first couple of teaching sessions with him.
You weren’t shy, per se, but your confidence would never match up to someone like him. He’s the kind of person who has everything going on for him – like a protagonist of a popular rom-com movie who gets the girl and gets into Harvard.
“Are you listening?” He tilted his head to meet your line of vision, which was focused on his veiny hands, tapping the red pen against your assigned homework.
“Uh… yes–sorry, you were saying…I forgot the signs for my trigonometric integrals?” You quickly darted your eyes away to focus on the line he’d underlined boldly.
“Yeah. Keep a lookout for the csc/cot and sin/cos conversions. The signs flip for both differentiation and integration.” He insistently circled the formulas. “It’s basically mugging up this stuff. Or scribbling it in your exam aid sheet. This isn’t even covering the combinations that we’ll have to cover by teaching you the integration by parts rules.”
“Understood,” you nodded, all knowingly, while your brain scrambled to understand the logic behind why the signs flipped.
“Don’t pretend to understand. Here, look–” he grabbed your hand and traced it along a sinusoidal curve he’d drawn that looked like the logo of Arctic Monkeys.
“The sine wave goes up fastest at 𝑥=0, where its slope is 1, matching cos(0)=1. They’re reversed.” His calloused hand still gripping yours, making you draw your index finger up and down the slopes.
Your stomach did the thing from his touch, butterflies making you feel slightly light-headed. It’s probably because I skipped lunch, you lied to yourself.
Before you could question your sanity, he withdrew his hand to grab the iced matcha that was super diluted now to bring it to his mouth as he took a careful sip.
“Wait, this ain’t half bad.” He said, his eyes widening from the taste, as he smacked his mouth to taste it better.
“Knew it. I’ll get you the sugar-free syrup next time.”
“You better. Owe me food for tolerating your dumbness, too, btw.” He smirked, sliding his notes to you while he zipped his backpack shut after the lesson you both had.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“No, sweetheart. Tomorrow’s Friday, and I do happen to have a life,” he chuckled, his hand on his hip in a sassy manner.
“But my midterm is on Tuesday. I’ve hardly any days left…” Your eyes widened in horror, scared you’d fail again this time.
“I’ll tell you what – if you’re open to it, swing by my room on Saturday morning, and we can have a couple of back-to-back revision sessions for what we’ve learned and solved so far, yeah?”
“But I don’t know where your dorm room is?” You asked, with a quizzical expression.
“Phones exist for a reason, airhead. Just text me before you plan to visit, yeah?”
—
You’d spent the rest of your evening going through Satoru’s formulae and notes that he’d neatly arranged in a format that was easy to grasp. For so much that he had on his plate, his neat handwriting was unexpected to say the least.
But your mind kept drifting to the moment he held your hand, and how his grip had left you feeling funny. Maybe it was because of how touch-deprived you were these past couple of months trying to focus on academia, you decided.
But he also used words that were way too personal to use on a tutee… Sweetheart? Wait. No. Scratch that. He rolled his eyes when he used the word of condescension. Of course it was used to belittle you. As if you were a dumb child whose brain was still developing.
Before you could spiral into your overthinking when you should be focusing on your study prep, your phone buzzed 3 consecutive times.
Unknown number: it’s satoru. the south hall dorms btw. 2247
Unknown number: oh and don’t forget the matcha on saturday
Unknown number: stop overthinking your grades and study, or else i’ll make you do practice problems till your eyes bleed
You: how’d you find my number?
Gojo: oh my god. keep up. your tutee profile on the school portal had it.
You: good. i almost took you for a creep.
Gojo: and bring snacks. i was serious about the food thing.
Fatass.
—
You woke up Saturday morning drenched in sweat from the intense heatwave that was doing numbers on your body. The heat was so oppressive, you were wondering if making a run solely for Satoru’s iced matcha (yes, sugar-free this time) and a bag of chips was worth it at all. Just to pass a course you shouldn’t have taken to begin with.
Knock.
Nothing.
Knock. Knock.
“Bro, can’t you fucking wait till I take my shower—” the door swung open as Satoru stood there, shirtless, glistening contours of muscles, wet hair, a towel hanging dangerously low on his waist, and a look of pure horror on his face, making you swallow a lump forming in your throat.
“Shit. Sorry. Thought you were Sugu–uh… my roommate.” He stuttered.
“No–I’M sorry. Should’ve shown up later, I’ll just wait outside–”
“No. It’s my fault. Woke up drunk like an idiot and delayed my schedule. Sit at my desk? I’ll get dressed in a jiffy in the washroom.”
Before you could protest, he’d already pushed down the door stopper to let you in and sprinted to the washroom inside the room. You walked inside the room to see 2 desks and 2 beds, trying to inspect the owners. 1 of the beds had bright purple sheets and a cozy purple, fluffy blanket, and above the headboard, the wall was covered in band posters and anime characters. You presumed it was Satoru’s side of the room, since his roommate’s was a stark contrast with navy blue bedding, and tiny plants neatly covering the periphery of the bed frame. ‘Toru is definitely not the type to care about having a serene space to doze off to, you thought.
His desk was a mess, unlike his neatly tucked sheets and bedding. Notes from courses, sheets scattered across the wooden desk, a random monitor that was holding on for dear life flashing dead pixels, and more than 10 cans of Redbull and Monster. Your eyes drifted to a single pictured frame of Satoru and presumably his parents, where teenage him looked extremely different from how he did now (besides the nerdy glasses). He was visibly thinner, his face somehow chubbier with stray pubescent hairs on his chin, braces, and his posture was underconfident as he slouched to avoid facing the camera.
"You're staring." Satoru's voice crept up from behind you, amused. "Never seen a guy’s room before?"
“I…no. Was just observing how you actually looked like a nerd.”
“Yeah, yeah — I know how shocked you are,” he continued, "I was fifteen. Had the whole sitting-at-home-to-game-for-12-hours-and-avoid-people thing going on. It was tragic."
"I can't imagine you being anything but insufferably confident."
"Confidence is learned, sweetheart." He finally glanced at you, something softer in his expression now. "The math came easy. The rest took work."
“The rest?”
“Yes, sweets. No one comes out of the womb with a six-pack and piercings. I worked hard to look the way I do now.” He plucked the matcha from your hand and took a long sip, droplets of water dripping down his brows from his wet, washed hair. “This tastes acceptable. You’re excused for unprofessionally snooping around your tutor’s room.”
“You can’t call it snooping if I was just taking in the surroundings of a new place you invited me into!” You set the chips on his desk. “Although, Satoru, I must say, your room is relatively cleaner than I’d imagine.”
He settled into his desk chair, spinning to face you. “Surely you’re being sarcastic.”, he said, rolling his eyes, pointing to the mess on his desk.
You opened your mouth to reassure him that you’d seen messier workspaces before, but he was already pulling out his notes, the energy shifting into something more focused. His demeanor changed when he was about to teach, the cocky smirk fading into something concentrated and serious.
"Alright. We're doing integration by parts today, and I'm not leaving this room until you understand it." He pulled a chair up beside his desk, patting the seat. "Sit. And actually pay attention this time."
—
Two hours later, you were both sprawled on his floor, your notes scattered between you like fallen autumn leaves. The integration by parts formula was finally starting to make sense (or at least you could recognize it when you saw it), which felt like progress.
"I think I'm getting it," you said, staring at the popcorn ceiling.
"I can tell. You have a very expressive face. It's actually kind of convenient for teaching… I can see exactly when you're understanding something and when you’re not." His face leaned way too close to your face to take in your expressions, as the strong smell of his freshly, fruity shampooed hair assaulted your nostrils.
Your cheeks flushed. "That's not.. I'm not that obvious."
"You literally just made that cute little annoyed face." He mimicked your expression, comically widening his eyes and slackening his jaw with exaggeration. "The 'oh no, he's using math words again' face."
"I do NOT look like that." You insisted, looking away to avoid the slight flush on your face from being obvious.
"You absolutely do. It's adorable, actually. In a pathetic sort of way."
A moment of silence stretched between you, comfortable and strange. You'd expected him to be insufferable all morning, berating you. Instead, he'd been relatively patient (well, patient for Satoru meant he'd only called you an idiot three times instead of ten). But the sweet terms of endearment seemed out of character for him.
“Can we take a break now? It’s been more than 2 hours.”
"Okay," he said, fixing his posture. "One more practice problem. If you get it right, I owe you lunch, and if it’s wrong, you’re paying."
"Bold of you to assume I'm paying for anything after your hefty prices." But he was reaching for his notes, already scribbling down a problem. "Fine. I’ll sprinkle in some free sessions, but you’ll have to continue working with me after your midterm."
"That's not a fair trade. You’re basically asking me to keep you as your tutor until the finals so that you get paid more!"
"Life's not fair, sweetheart. By the looks of how it’s going, don’t you think you’ll need more help if you don’t pass the 2nd midterm?"
You snatched the paper from his hand, determination settling in your chest. "Give me five minutes. I’m not going to promise going broke over a tutor I unwillingly hire."
He watched you work, and you could feel his gaze on you – not judgmental, but curious. You ignored it, focusing on the problem, working through the steps he'd drilled into you.
When you finished, you looked up, anticipating under “idiot”. "Well?"
His crystal eyes scanned your work, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face, which was completely disarming.
"Holy shit," he said. "You actually got it right."
"SERIOUSLY?"
"You got it right." He was laughing now, shaking his head. "After two hours. I'm genuinely impressed."
Your face broke into a smile so wide it almost hurt. "I did?"
"Yeah, dumbass. You did." He reached over and ruffled your hair like a pet with his long, delicate fingers, the gesture surprisingly fond. "Now let's go get food. I'm starving, and you owe me."
"I don't owe you shit. The deal was you pay if I get it right.”
"If I’m paying for a meal, it’s going to be called a ‘date’, sweets." He tilted his head to smirk at you.
“You and your ego again.”
“I don’t spoil my students like this. You should be grateful, dumbass.” And there he was berating you again.
—
“So,” you said, waving the chopsticks in your hand, “What hobbies do you have besides insulting your tutees and academia?”
“Pfft. There you go again”, he rolled his eyes while mixing the wasabi in his bowl of soy sauce, “Playing pool with friends, um… rock climbing, going to concerts.”
“Rockclimbing? That explains why you're so lean.”
Oops. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“So you’ve been staring, huh?” he chuckled, shoving the last salmon sushi in his mouth before you’d have a chance. “Tutees shouldn’t be thinking about their tutor’s physique.”
“And tutors should also not start a study session shirtless.” You argued, logically.
“Oh please. I saw how your eyes were all over my body in the mere seconds I opened the door. You were pathetically obvious. With your easy-to-read face.”
Caught. Let me play it off. Can’t let this asshole think I’m into him or something.
“I was looking because I felt pity for how skinny you looked. Go ahead, order another sushi roll. You’ll practically fly away. I’ll pay.” You joked.
“You’re telling me you were looking at me out of pity?” He’d latched onto your comment about his physique.
“Absolutely.” You stole a piece of the dynamite roll before he did. “You’re clearly surviving on energy drinks and no real food. As your tutee, I feel a moral obligation to intervene.”
“I’m on a cut, actually. I need to calculate my macros.”
“Seriously. How much of a nerd are you? Measuring your food too?”
He grinned. "I calculate everything precisely. It's what makes me superior to you in every way."
"In every way?" You raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I could out-argue you on any ethical dilemma. You'd be lost within five minutes."
"Try me."
"Okay." You set down your chopsticks, considering. "A terminally ill patient refuses treatment that would extend their life by 6 months but with severe side effects. The family wants you to override the patient's decision. What do you do?"
Satoru's brow furrowed. "That's not fair. You've been studying this for years."
"Thought you calculated everything?"
"I calculate numbers, not..." He gestured vaguely. "Real-life moral scenarios"
"See? Superior in every way, my ass."
"Your ass is pretty superior, actually."
You choked on your tea. "Excuse me?"
"I said your ass is–" He was grinning now, insufferably. "What? I'm just being honest. You have a great ass. It's a scientific observation."
"You're... something," you answered, trying to ignore the heat between your thighs.
He reached across the table and stole your last piece of sushi. "And yet, you're still here. Still laughing. Eating on my dime." He paused, his expression softening just a bit. "Still making me want to be less of an asshole."
"You're doing a terrible job at that, by the way."
—
"Okay," Satoru said, settling onto the floor and patting the spot beside him as you continued your post-lunch study session. "We're doing practice papers until you can do them in your sleep. No excuses."
You settled beside him, close enough that you could smell his cologne this time that made your brain feel fuzzy. You tried to focus on the worksheet he was sliding toward you, but your eyes kept drifting to his veiny hands, again.
He glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "My hands, right? You have a thing for them."
"I do not. I was just seeing your Chrome Hearts rings. Seriously, how much do you even make to buy that?"
"A lot." He was grinning.
Your cheeks burned. "Can we just focus? Please?"
"Fine, fine." He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Funny how you like my hands after calling me skinny.”
—
Twenty minutes in, you were actually starting to feel good. The rules were making sense. The answers were coming together. You'd even managed to solve a chain rule problem without his help.
He leaned in to demonstrate, his shoulder pressing against yours. The warmth of him seeped through your bare shoulder, and you found yourself holding your breath.
"See the pattern here?" He was pointing at the problem, but you weren't looking at the paper. You were looking at his face now, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his pink lips moved as he explained.
"You're not listening," he said, but his voice was softer now.
"I am," you lied.
"No, you're not." He turned to look at you, and suddenly you were face to face. "You're doing the thing again."
"What thing?"
His voice dropped lower. "It's okay. I don't mind."
You should have looked away. But you couldn't. His eyes held yours, and there was something in them that made your heart hammer against your chest.
And then he reached up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin.
The contact was brief, but it sent a shiver through your entire body. Your breath caught and your skin tingled where he'd touched you. Just as quickly, he pulled his hand back. Like he hadn't meant to do it.
"Sorry," he muttered, looking away. "Your hair was in the way of the problem sheet."
"It's fine," you said, but your voice came out too loud, as if you were guilty.
He cleared his throat and turned back to the worksheet. "Anyway. The pattern. It's a chain rule with a trig function inside. You have to–"
But you weren't listening anymore.
"Satoru?" you said softly.
"Yeah?" He still wasn't looking at you.
"I-um…" You swallowed. "I think I should go now."
He looked up then, his brow furrowed. "Hmm?"
You stood up too quickly, your legs wobbly. "I just… I think I need to practice on my own for a bit. Before the midterm. Get my bearings."
He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly. "Okay. Whatever you need."
You gathered your things, your hands shaking slightly. He walked you to the door, his hands in his pockets.
"Same time next week, after midterms?" he asked.
"I'll text you. After the midterm. Let you know how it went."
"Whatever's going on in that head of yours isn’t as important as your grades, hmm? Focus on that, yeah?”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.
—
The walk back to your dorm was a blur. You replayed the moment over and over: his fingers on your skin, the way your heart had stopped, the way you'd fled like a coward.
It's nothing, you told yourself. He's just a flirt. That's what he does. It doesn't mean anything.
—
Tuesday morning arrived sooner than you’d like, your stomach feeling nauseous. You'd barely slept, spending most of the night tossing and turning while your brain cycled through integration formulae… and the memory of Satoru’s fingers on your skin.
Your phone buzzed as you walked to the exam hall.
Gojo: you're going to crush it. go through the trig identities. double-check signs. Breathe.
Gojo: also, i’m stealing that jacket. It looks way too comfy.
You stopped walking, whipping your head around to look around, only to find a man jumping like a happy pup from the top floor of the STEM building, phone in hand. Even from this distance, you could see his grin.
Me: you're insane.
Gojo: you're going to pass. go get 'em, sweets.
You pocketed your phone, shaking your head, and walked into the exam hall with a smile on your face.
—
The exam wasn’t too bad. Two hours of the exact type of problems your tutor had made you practice showed up. Sure, some of them you’re sure you miscalculated. But you were confident it couldn’t have been as bad as last time. Satoru's voice echoed in your head as you solved through each question: “Breathe, check your signs, you've got this”
—
The results came back 3 days later.
Grades are now available. Your grade for Calculus I Midterm 2 is: B.
You stared at the screen. Read it again. And again.
"B?" you whispered. "I got a B?!"
You grabbed your phone, almost dropping it in excitement.
Me: I GOT A B
Me: SATORU I ACTUALLY DID IT
Me: I'M GOING TO CRY
You didn't even wait for a reply to his text and called him.
He answered on the first ring. "Told you. You're welcome, by the way."
"I got a B," you said, your voice cracking. "Satoru, I got a B."
"I know. I read your texts. Relax. I was hoping you’d get a B+ at least."
"Shut up. I'm having a moment."
He laughed, a deep chuckle. "Okay, okay. I'm proud of you. For real. You worked your ass off."
"Thank you. For everything. I couldn't have done it without you. Although you were very mean throughout."
"Flattery? What alternative universe am I in?" A pause. "So. Final exam prep starts next week. Same time?"
"Actually… Can we start sooner?"
"Sooner?"
"I want to keep seeing you. For sessions, I mean–" You winced at your own words. "I want to make sure I don't slip back with the new material. You're… a good tutor. Even if you're an asshole."
"You think I'm a good tut–"
"DON’T let it go to your head."
"Too late. It's already there."
A pause.
"Same time Saturday? My room?"
"Saturday works."
"I'll treat you with coffee this time."
“You better.”
—
And so it went.
Saturday sessions became a ritual. Twice a week. Then three times, whenever his schedule allowed. The tutoring became secondary to the time spent together with each other. The banter, the teasing, the getting-to-know-each-other, the way he'd say “good girl” when you got a problem right.
You'd text him at odd hours, and he'd always respond. He'd send you stupid memes about calculus, and sometimes random things that made you snort as you lay in bed at night. He'd show up to sessions each time with *your* favourite coffee order he influenced you on; a salted iced caramel latte.
Somewhere along the way, you both knew that the line between tutor and something ‘more’ began to blur.
—
It was nearly midnight that evening, and you were still in his dorm room. The session had started at seven, but neither of you had noticed the time passing. His roommate was at the library studying for finals, which meant it was just the two of you, only the dim desk lamp illuminating your faces now.
“You know, I was hoping you’d get it wrong so I could insult you.”
"Is that a thing? You like insulting me?"
"Yeah. I love your sad, pathetic face."
You laughed, leaning back on your hands. The movement stretched your cropped top, and you caught his eyes flickering down to the bralette peeking through for just a moment before snapping back to your face.
"Okay," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's do one more question–"
"You know," you interrupted, "for someone who's supposed to be soooooo smart and stoic, you're really bad at hiding your reactions, too, tutor."
His ears went red. "I wasn't–"
"You absolutely were." You leaned in, just a little. "It's okay. I don't mind, either, sweetheart."
The air between you two thickened. He was looking at you differently now, as he was trying to figure out what you’d say next while a pink blush crept across his cheeks.
"Sweetheart?" he said, his voice lower than usual. "What are you doing?"
"I don't know." You were closer now, close enough to see his dilated eyes. "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he reached up, slowly, giving you time to pull away, and caressed your cheek, not pulling his hand back like he previously did.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "Tell me this is a bad idea. And I'll stop."
You should have stopped him.
“I don’t want you to stop, Satoru.”
—
His lips found yours before you could second-guess yourself. The kiss was soft at first, curious and explorative. But when your hands reached the nape of his neck, and you pulled him closer, tangling your fingers in his hair, he deepened it.
You ended up on his bed (somehow) and the next thing you knew, you were beneath him, the weight of his warm and solid body pushing you against his plush pillows.
"Satoru…" you breathed, your hands fisting in his shirt.
"Fuck–I love how you say my name," he murmured against your lips. "I know we shouldn't. But I can't stop…" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes half-lidded. "I can't pretend anymore. I've been trying. God, I've been trying. But every time you look at me, I can't—"
"Stop talking," you whispered, pulling him back down.
His laugh was breathless against your mouth. "Bossy?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
He did. His hands found the hem of your barely-there shirt, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist. You shivered at the contact, and he stilled immediately.
"Too fast?" His voice strained.
"No..." You pulled him closer. "Don't stop."
He didn't. The shirt came off. Then his. The dim lamp cast shadows across his chiseled chest, and you traced the lines of his built shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, as he watched you with hooded eyes, begging for more.
"You still think I’m malnourished?" he murmured.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
You kissed him like a hungry animal this time, the touch of his hands raking through your body, and the soft moans and whimpers he made when you pulled him closer.
His mouth found your neck, and you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair.
"Satoruuu"
"Tell me what you want," he said against your skin. "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."
You couldn't form words as your fogged brain could barely think. All you knew was that you wanted him, and you didn’t want to stop. "I want…" You swallowed, your voice trembling. "I want you."
He lifted his head to look at you, and his smile switched to a smirk. “I knew it, sweets. Since the day you met, that little head of yours was smitten by me.”
—
His hand slid lower, and you arched into his touch. His fingers hastily slipped below your sweatpants and traced the outline of your sweet little cunt against your soaked underwear.
“Oh, my god. You’re so wet down there…” He whispered, staring into your eyes as his fingers circled slowly around your clit and tight entrance, “We won’t need any lube, my little slut.”
“Satoru!”
“What? I’m being honest…”
Your own hand drifted down his jeans to unbuckle his belt, and the anticipation of what’d come next with the zip! – the sound made your cunt throb. Occasionally, during those sessions where you should’ve been staring at the worksheet and not him, your eyes drifted to the obvious bulge through his jeans, and you’d imagine how big he really was.
But as your hands started slowly fisting his clothed cock under the covers–
Click. The door swung open.
"Satoru, I forgot my—"
Both of you froze.
His roommate stood in the doorway, keys in hand, eyes wide. For a long, agonizing moment, no one moved.
"Fuck I—" Suguru backed away slowly, his face bright red. "I'm just gonna come back later. Much later. Like, tomorrow. Sorry…"
The door slammed shut. Silence.
Satoru dropped his head to your shoulder, his body shaking with suppressed laughter and suppressed desire. "Oh, my god."
"I'm going to die," you said, your face buried in his neck. "I'm going to literally die of embarrassment."
"He's not going to say anything…" Satoru was still giggling. "He's probably going to send me a very long, passive-aggressive text about 'common courtesy' and 'giving him a heads up'."
"That's not funny!"
"It's a little funny."
You hit his chest. "I hate you."
"No, you don't. Not with how wet you are for me right now"
You lifted your head to glare at him. His snowy hair was a sweaty mess. His lips were swollen from kissing you.
"And your cock is twitching in my grip with how hard you are for me," you giggled.
He grinned. "I know."
—
Your phone buzzed an hour later, after you'd both managed to stop laughing long enough to get dressed and salvage your dignity.
Gojo: so. about what happened.
Gojo: i'm not sorry about any of it.
Gojo: but i am sorry my roommate has the worst timing in the history of the universe.
Me: i'm still processing…
Gojo: take your time. i'll be here. and so will my throbbing cock i’m going to tend to myself :(
Me: satoru!
Gojo: but also, just so you know… i'm not going to pretend that didn't happen. i'm not going to act like i don't want you.
Gojo: because i do. i want you. all of you. not just the… sex thing…
Me: satoru…
Gojo: too much?
Me: no. just... give me a second to catch up. this is all happening really fast.
Gojo: take all the time you need.
Me: thanks.
Gojo: goodnight, sweetheart. ik you’re going to finger that pretty cunt to the thought of me ;))
Me: satoru im going to cut your dick off
—
You set the phone down and stared at the ceiling before you’d eventually reach for your bedside drawer vibrator.
Your final was next week. You had so much studying to do. So much to figure out. But right now, all you could think about was the warmth of his hands on your skin, your tutor’s hands, and the way he'd looked at you, the way he'd said 'I'm yours'… oh god.
You didn't know where this was going. But for the first time, you weren't so scared of getting yelled at by your mean, cocky tutor, or the math problems he’d whisper in your ears.
a/n: proofread once so ik i've made hella mistakes editing this draft but who caressss #fuckit
omg he's so mean and bratty, i lowkey think reader could spank some sense into him
alsooo, sorry if there's too much math, i wanted it to be realistic!
lmk if you'd be open to a part2!
likes and reblogs appreciated as always <3
pictures from pinterest: but art tags were @ gojosiloh (?) and @ albdgreen (couldn't find either on Tumblr, lmk!)
!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most
Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.
You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.
To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.
Except you didn't.
You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.
"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.
You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."
You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.
The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.
If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.
He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.
And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.
"You are eating that wrong."
You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.
You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.
"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."
Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.
"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."
"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."
Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.
He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.
He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.
It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.
"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."
You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."
Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.
"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."
You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.
The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.
But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.
The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."
The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.
And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.
During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.
You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.
But Sukuna had heard it.
He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.
"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.
Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.
Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.
Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.
"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."
"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.
His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.
"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.
"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."
You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.
He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.
You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.
"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.
A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.
"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.
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driver!simon rescuing runaway bride!reader from the church where your wedding was supposed to take place. you’d left it all–your family, your phone, your responsibilities, your no-longer-husband-to-be–behind so you could sit in the back of simon’s cab and tell him all the reasons you ditched.
“he's just… he's boring. he likes to eat dinner the same time as our 74-year-old neighbor! he didn’t wanna go anywhere or do anything. he’d come home after all day at work, just to half-ignore me. doesn't believe in kissing for any longer than 0.7 seconds. and dear god–simon, is it? right?–the sex…”
simon lets you unleash it all as he circles in the streets, adding in his two cents here and there when you take a second to breathe.
“so a fuckin’ knob then, huh? too bad you got all pretty for’a bloke like that… y’sure he wasn’t the 74-year-old?”
that last one pulls a laugh from you that makes simon think about that pub on the other side of town.
half an hour later, there you are, in the pub. still in your gown and veil. simon’s arm wrapped tight around your side as the two of you squish against the wood of the bar.
surrounding you is a clamoring of happy drunks, who toast loudly to the assumed “marriage” between simon and yourself. for some reason, you don’t correct them. nor does simon, who instead holds you tight and shoves his tongue into your mouth after the tenth chant of kiss! from the rest of the pub.
you kiss him back, groaning at the touch that reaches to grip your chin. when you pull away, simon holds his breath at the tipsy grin on your face, a warm feeling running through his cock when you turn back to your glass and chug until the top of your lip is covered in foam from the second beer he bought you.
“alright?”
you bob a nod at simon’s question as he thumbs away the mess at your lip with dark eyes.
fourteen minutes later…
the pub bathroom is already small enough. feels even smaller with simon hanging over your shoulder and yanking you back by the hips. the fastening of your dress has been ripped well past your ass, buttons scattered under the sink you're holding onto for dear life. squeezing the sides of the porcelain every time simon pumps into you.
“f-fuck…” you whine, and simon digs himself deeper. “ah!-there-there…”
his cock is hitting deep. heavy. wet and stretching you out in a way the man you’d abandoned earlier. (what was his name again?) he even uses the veil still tucked in your hair to keep the view of your face nice and clear for him to stare at you in the mirror. the sight of you, groaning with running mascara, makes it easy for simon to imagine another world where you're his new, pretty wife.
mrs. riley. his missus.
“y’know… i’ll eat supper whenever y’want. kiss ya right. don’t quite like ignoring pretty things either,” he grunts in your ear, balls smacking loudly in between the slurred sentences. the wet peck he gives you under the side of your ear precedes a tragic pause of his thrusts. while you take the break to catch simon’s gaze in the glass before you, he pants with deep huffs.
god, you look a right mess. make up ruined. lips swollen. veil scrunched and the top of your dress tugged low enough for your nipples to show. simon looks over it all at the same time before peeling his front from your back so he can watching something else.
there’s a ring of cream at the base of his cock that’s still stuck halfway inside your pussy. your lips are spread wide, properly stuffed, and pulsate with a gentle rhythm.
“…you memorize your vows?”
you blink at the low question, trying not to squirm anymore than you already are. “uh. y-yeah? i think. why?–"
“go on, then,” simon directs, one of his arms wrapping around your front. with a tight tug, he stuffs himself the rest of the way, clenching his teeth at the way your voice cracks in the middle of a loud moan. scrunching his nose, he sniffs. then resumes fucking you.
slower.
harder.
like a proper husband should.
it takes you a while to sputter the first few words. simon is patient enough because the pay off is better than he imagined.
the recited promises are broken, but there. real-sounding enough just over the wet plaps that simon can flutter his eyes shut and pretend he’s the one you wrote them about. that you’ll always give yourself to him, to laugh everyday with him, to love him through it all.
the man proves himself easily, that much is obvious by how you end up squirting on his cock and down his dress; the way you sob his name and accidentally blubber out delirious i love you’s; how the three words you chant out like a prayer cause him to spill deep inside you as he makes sounds he’s never made for anyone else.
simon loves you back. feels like it, at least, when he comes with shaking legs and can’t think of anything worse than a future without you. he ends up sure of the fact when the first thing you utter, in a tired, hoarse voice, after finally finding your breath is–
“i meant to ask earlier… do you have a smoke?”
simon grins a bit, almost laughing. red stains on his teeth from how hard you made him bite his lip.
note: is this bad? pls don't let this be bad. anyways, runaway brides must be the new thing and i think @tojisteddy n i share the same brain :3
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thinking about fucking your bully’s younger brother, choso, silly as revenge for the torment you endured.
“fuuuckk-mmffnnghhh” his moans were abruptly interrupted by you shoving two fingers in his mouth, and pressing down on his tongue to feel him gag around your fingers. u would move ur hips in a circular motion whilst still slamming ur self down onto his pelvis at an agonizingly slow pace.
suddenly his phone screen lit up and the sound of it vibrating against the bed was almost in competition with the sound of your hips plapping again his pelvis. the screen read miyako, “s-should i- shiiiittuhh… should i answer” choso whined, his glossy eyes finding yours that burned with a sudden look of annoyance. you answered him by speeding up your pace and riding him harder.
he was the first person your eyes gravitated to when you first stepped foot in the coffee shop. him being the male version of your bully made it easy to put the clues together about his identity but you obviously had to confirm for yourself!
he held his phone up to his eye, a concerned expression graced his face. by time you finally reach his table, he’s hanging up the phone and looking up a you with low, sleepy eyes. he’d stumble over his words a bit “h-hi, do i know you?” he’d ask politely. he was the complete opposite of his sister. she was a bitch, he’s not. simple. “i think im a friend of your sister… miyako right?” you lied through your teeth, you were almost certain that there was no universe where miyako and you could be cordial at the very least.
when he confirmed that yes, that was his older sister, you could help but feel your stomach churn in satisfaction. he’d told you that he was waiting on his sister to come to the coffee shop so they could hang out but she had suddenly fallen sick- lying bitch.. you thought, you just seen her flirty with some girl on your way to the coffee shop! you suggested that you could keep him company, to which he agreed.
that day at the coffee shop led to you getting his number, talking to him in the early hours of the morning, regular study dates at the library, him hanging out in your dorm and you hanging out in his. even as the months passed, his sister never realized the bond that was forming between the two of you, you told him you wanted to keep it lowkey because you’d didn’t know how she’d react to her “friend” getting with her younger brother. what started as something that began from wanting revenge spiraled into genuine feelings.
though he was a sophomore he could explain any topic to you with such gentleness, he’d buy you flowers randomly along with little trinkets he’d remember you said you thought were cute and he was overall a sweet boy.
choso would be sprawled out on your plushies littered bed right beside you while he stared at the ceiling, matching face mask plaster on your faces as you scrolled through your instagram feed. “baby?” the vibrato of his voice called from your right side, you automatically turned your attention to him. “yeah, cho?” his heart clenched at that nickname you recently started calling him. “when do you think we’ll be able to tell miyako about … us?” choso felt a wave of nervousness coarse through his body as he anticipated your answer.
you sat up next to choso, still looking at his as you caressed his face. “you know what,” you tapped your chin like you were thinking “next time you talk to her.. you can tell her” choso perked up at your words like a dog “r-really..? you don’t wanna be there to tell her?” he asked curiously. you climbed onto his lap, his stomach twitching as you played with his pajama pants drawstrings. “maybe it would be better if she heard it from you.” choso didn’t know why that made you giggle but he did know that it made his cock twitch with excitement. you felt it, couldn’t ignore it. you experimented by gently rocking your hips on his hard on, to which he responded by grabbing your waist and pressing you down onto his
that’s how you the two of you ended up here..
his chest bare and his pajama pants pulled down far enough for his cock to be freed, while you were still mostly clothed in your tank top and black panties that were pulled to the side.
“unghh.. baby..” he groaned softly as you gently bounced up and down on his slick covered cock, his finger nails digging into you skin as he gripped your hips as if he had the control. your pussy clenching around his length when he reached down to play with your clit, “s-shit.. feels ‘s good, c-cho” you’d stumble over your words, your pace slightly faltering as you slowed down to prolong the feeling of the veins lining his dick dragging through your pussy.
“fuuuckk-mmffnnghhh” his moans were abruptly interrupted by you shoving two fingers in his mouth, and pressing down on his tongue to feel him gag around your fingers. you would move your hips in a circular motion whilst still slamming your self down onto his pelvis at an agonizingly slow pace.
suddenly his phone screen lit up and the sound of it vibrating against the bed was almost in competition with the sound of your hips plapping again his pelvis. the screen read miyako, “s-should i- shiiiittuhh… should i answer” choso whined his speech muffled until you pulled you fingers out of his mouf to hear him better, a little bit of drool on the side of his mouth as he tried to steady his breathing. his glossy eyes finding yours that burned with a sudden look of annoyance. “m-maybe i should answer… i mean, she was sick remember?.” you answered him by speeding up your pace and riding him harder.
his sleepy looking eyes widening as he tosses his head back. if he wanted to say something, now he couldn’t, all words were stuck in his throat only letting a string of whines pass through. “mm mm,” you you disagreed, gently slapping the side of his cheek before putting your fingers back in his mouth in annoyance. “focus on me, she’ll be fine” was the last thing you said before you rode him into the early hours of the morning.
choso didn’t know what reaction he expected when he told her that he was going out with you, but it certainly wasn’t this… in his defense, he was under the belief that the two of you were friends. he’s now finding out that, that was in fact a little white lie on your part but he’ll deal with you later. in this very moment, he tells his older sister that he has no intention of breaking up with you and that she’d just have to deal with it.
that’s how you completely infiltrated her life. she hated seeing the effect you had on her brother and everyone else. choso would bring you home to his family on thanksgiving, to meet his little brother, his dad and uncle to which they all blabbed about how much they loved you when while miyako stabbed her slice of turkey with her fork.
you started showing up to christmas, birthdays, hell- you even started coming on family summer vacations to their beach home! choso would be in the backyard helping his uncle sukuna and his dad jin on the grill as you laid on a pool by the pool side in a cute little pink bikini, the sound of yuuji splashing around with his black haired friend and his brown haired friend, the salty smell of the ocean not too far way and the sun shining against your skin, your eyes shut in absolute bliss until suddenly the sun was gone.
you opened your eyes to see miyako towering over you, with her arms crossed over his chest. “when are you going to stop this.” she said, “i don’t know what you’re talking about” you shrugged.
“fine, you win! you proved whatever fucking point you were trying to make! when the fuck will you leave me alone!?!” she whisper shouted at you. you finally sat up to get a better look at her face that was flushed with anger. bringing satisfaction to your entire being. “i’ll leave you alone when choso leaves me alone.”
everyone knew,
at this point…
choso walks over with a burger and a hotdog that he grilled for you and places it on the small table next to the pool chair. “you guys okay?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow.
the only way choso would ever leave you alone is in death.
and not even death would be able to separate him from you, he once said to you verbatim.
you stood up to hug his side, glaring intently at miyako. he planted a kiss atop of your head which made miyako rolled her eyes, a smile graces your face while doing so.
“more than okay, cho!”
a/n: yes i made miyako up, yes miyako gay asf, yes miyako can get it. not proofread, i hope you guys enjoy!!!
previous item on the menu: kento “i take foreplay very, very seriously” nanami
you know those studies showing that cursing helps with pain tolerance or whatever. that’s how i feel about making my weird little noises to get through my basic daily activities. sometimes you just have to go hggblaaaah for a minute so you can find the strength within yourself to get up or wash the dishes or send an email. mmmnneh. urgh. the torments are unending but you can always make some little sounds about it.
he hates it. he loathes it. what, you think he's not good enough to satisfy you?
arriving at your door, he can hear small whirs and moans coming from the other side. at first, he thinks you're cheating on him but it's much worse.
the door opens rapidly, the sound startling you badly. then, he sees the obscene sight before him.
you're using a fucking toy? over asking him?
he doesn't know what kind of conundrum you're in, but he doesn't like this situation one bit. honestly, it's a bit traitorous to trust a stupid silicone toy that vibrates over your own man that's literally fucked you into oblivion a million times before this.
"really? a bloody toy?" he asks, accent heavy.
you stare at him dumbfounded and the vibrations of the device inside you seemed to have stopped, when it really didn't. but, all you could do was watch in shock as he walks over towards you, shutting the door behind him, both offended and angry.
your legs are spread, hand right against your folds that are filled with the thing he hates so much. there's a tinge of humiliation that makes your cheeks turn pink.
then, without warning, he presses against your clit with the pad of his thumb, sending a huge wave of pleasure over you.
"i-i thought you were busy..." you mutter, back arching in heavenly pleasure.
"me? not if it was for you," he replies.
he pulls the toy out, tossing it across the room, sending your slick pretty much flying everywhere. he doesn't think twice before putting his hand back between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you mewl.
"ngh— i'm sorry!" you yelp.
"and i'm sure ya' are," he says. "now, do you want me or the stupid toy?"
you're quick to answer: "you,"
it doesn't take long for him to fill you up with his huge fingers, one already stretching you out more than the sex object you used previously. you let out a loud moan when he enters another finger, adding more to the burn.
you squirm, feeling him start to move, the friction helping you continue approaching the orgasm. he's so mean. he doesn't let you adjust before finger-fucking you to the next world, digits pushed in and out of you rapidly, pace consistent.
the room is echoing to your moans endlessly, the lewd sound of his fingers squelching accompanying it. your noises grow louder, more desperate.
"you wanna cum?" he asks, watching as your facial expressions change from one of fear to overstimulation.
you nod frantically, drool travelling down your chin.
"use your words, baby," he says.
"y-yes!" you yell.
and he quickens, faster than you think was possible, the tips of his fingers hitting all the right spots exactly. you can feel the roughness and warmth of his hand, feel it moving in and out. then, you feel it.
you release, letting evidence of your orgasm coat his fingers fully, watching as he pulled it out and held it right in front of your eyes to see before licking it off in one go.
"next time, just call me," he says, leaving the room.
Nolan is decidedly an artist who has an appreciation for and respect for cinema and the craft of film making, and he has a love for making films that are supposed to be strange, dreamlike, even nonlinear. which is hindered by the fact that he, strangely, seems completely uncreative and artistically bland.
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