𓈈 Kachiniko 𓈈

She doesn’t even turn around, just waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder.

“Go now before they lose their crunch.”

Ever since you came home for summer break, your parents haven’t shut up about the five-year-old kid living next door. Baby Haru, as they call him. While you’ve never actually seen the kid, you've heard enough to know your parents have already mentally adopted him.

You let out a heavy sigh while adjusting the straps of the bikini top under your thin sundress. The backyard’s still too hot for sunbathing anyway, so you trudge through the house and out the front door.

The sun is relentless with its heat pressing down on your bare shoulders. The neighbor’s house looks very much the same as yours, just with a slightly messier lawn and a small bike tipped over near the porch. You shift the plate to your right hand so you can ring the doorbell.

The seconds stretch. You’re about to ring it again when the door swings open.

And holy shit.

The man standing there is—well, he’s not what you expected at all.

He’s towering over you, broad-shouldered, with two horizontal line tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his black t-shirt. His hair is short, a pink-red like faded cotton candy, and his eyes—red and sharp—lock onto you with an intensity that makes your throat go dry.

You suddenly forget how to speak.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

You clear your throat, now hyperaware of how short your sundress is and the fact that you’re only wearing a string two-piece underneath it.

“Oh! My mom sent me—I live next door. And, uh, these are for Haru,” you thrust the plate toward him. “Are you his brother?”

A slow smirk curls at the corner of his mouth, and you feel your face heat up instantly. His voice is deep and rough when he answers, “His father.”

Your brain short-circuits. Because, what?

You imagined the father to be some tired middle-aged dude with a beer belly and thinning hair, not a man who looks like he could pick you up with one hand and pin you against the nearest wall without breaking a sweat.

He takes the plate from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. “Thanks. Kid’s still sleeping, so…” His voice trails off, but he doesn’t move to shut the door.

He just stands there, watching you with those unsettling red eyes. Then he slightly tilts his head after noticing how your mouth twitches like you still have something to say. The silence stretches heavy until you blurt out the first dumb thing that comes to mind. 

“You look, uh—really young for a dad.”

The smirk returns slower this time, as if he’s savoring your awkwardness.

“Old enough, actually,” he says, his voice dripping with something that feels like a challenge.

His gaze drags down your body, lingering on your bare legs before flicking back up. You swallow hard, fingers twitching at your sides like you don’t know what to do with them now that the plate is gone.

“O-Okay, well, enjoy the fruit!” you stammer, gesturing vaguely at the plate in his hands before taking a clumsy step back.

You spin on your heel so fast you nearly trip over your own feet. The weight of his stare burns on the back of your head the whole way across the lawn. Back inside your house, you slam the door a little harder than necessary, immediately pressing your back against it. Your heart is hammering so loud against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. You press the heels of your hands against your cheeks—hot to the touch—and groan.

Your mother’s voice floats from the kitchen. “Did they like the watermelons?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, peeling yourself off the door. “Loved it.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon sunbathing while pretending not to replay that encounter in your head, but it’s useless. You’re sprawled belly-down on your towel, propped up on your elbows with a book splayed open in front of you. The same paragraph has blurred in and out of focus for the past twenty minutes, your brain too busy replaying the way his calloused fingers felt against yours.

Sukuna—the name your mother had offhandedly mentioned earlier—is so fucking hot. He and his son have been next door for three months, and you’ve been home for a while now, yet somehow you’d managed to miss him.

With a hot single dad neighbor, looks like your summer is far from being over.

The next afternoon, you’re halfway through reapplying sunscreen when your mom calls from inside the house. You groan before walking back inside. You catch your mother with her phone pressed to her ear.

“Sweetheart, Sukuna just called and he’s got an emergency at work and he needs someone to watch Baby Haru for a few hours. Can you?”

“Why don’t you and Dad do it?”

“Because we are going out to grab something.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

Ten minutes later, you’re standing at the neighbor’s door again. This time in denim cutoff shorts and a tank top.

Sukuna answers before you can even knock, already shrugging on a jacket while Haru—tiny, messy-haired, and clutching a stuffed dinosaur—peeks out from behind his legs.

“He’s fed. But if he gets hungry, jus’ feed him anything that he asks for,” Sukuna says, handing you his house key. His eyes slowly rake over you and your fingers tighten around the key. “You sure you can handle him?”

You tilt your chin up. “I babysat all through high school.”

Sukuna huffs a laugh and then he’s gone, the rumble of his motorcycle engine fading down the street.

You look down to Haru, who is looking at you with the most doll-eye looking set of red eyes you’ve ever seen. He has pink hair just like Sukuna, except ruffled and messy.

He tugs your hand immediately.

“Wanna see my room?”

It turns out babysitting him is mostly building block towers and pretending to be eaten by his dinosaur toys. Haru’s a really sweet kid, chatty and bright. By the time Sukuna’s bike pulls back into the driveway, you’re sprawled on the living room surrounded by toys.

The front door swings open and Sukuna steps inside. His gaze lands on you first, on the sliver of skin showing from when your tank top rode up, before flicking to Haru.

“Dada!”

“Hey, little guy,” he mumbles, tossing his keys onto the counter. He turns to you. “Did he give you trouble?”

You laugh, gently prying Haru’s fingers from your hair.

“Haru? Oh, no—nope. He’s great.”

Sukuna hums while shrugging off his jacket then tossing it over the couch. His fingers hook on the neckline of his white t-shirt, peeling it off in one smooth motion. The fabric lifts, revealing taut muscle and dark ink lines carved into his sunkissed skin.

Two segmented curve marks frame his chest and two bold line cuts vertically across his abdomen. His biceps flex as he stretches, the twin tattoos there flexing with them, and the black circles on his shoulders—dots centered like targets—draw your gaze upward. His body is unfairly sculpted for a man his age, all hard planes and coiled strength.

His jeans hang dangerously low on his hips as he disappears down the hallway, the sharp V-line abs cutting a path through your thoughts. You watch the flex of his lower back until he turns a corner and vanishes from your sight.

Haru tugs at the hem of your top, completely oblivious to your internal crisis, but you barely register it. You’re too busy swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat.

Sukuna returns in a fresh white tank top that clings to him like a second skin. The thin fabric is now doing nothing to hide the thick lines on his biceps or the way his chest strains against the material.

Haru tugs even harder, whining about showing you his favorite toy, but your eyes are glued to Sukuna as he strides back into the room. His tank top rides up when he bends to scoop Haru into his arms.

“Thanks for watching him,” Sukuna says. “I think he likes you.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “He’s easy to like, too.”

Sukuna’s gaze lingers on you a second too long.

“You should stay for dinner.”

The words roll off his tongue like an afterthought. Haru wriggles in his arms, whining about mac and cheese, and Sukuna adjusts his grip without breaking eye contact with you.

You should really say no.

You should go home, change out of these shorts that suddenly feel too tight, and pretend like the sight of Sukuna’s bare torso didn’t just sear itself into the back of your eyelids.

“Sure. If it’s no trouble.”

Haru cheers, wiggling out of his father’s grip to sprint toward the kitchen. You follow him, hyperaware of Sukuna’s presence behind you—the heat of him.

The kitchen is warmer than the rest of the house, filled with the faint hum of the fridge and the clatter of pots being dragged across the stove.

You help Haru get onto one of the bar chairs.

“My Dada makes creamy mac and cheese!” He informs you very seriously, as if it’s classified information.

Sukuna snorts. “Don’t expose my secret like that.”

You lean against the kitchen island, arms folding loosely beneath your chest as you watch him move around the kitchen. He doesn’t rush but instead, he moves with lazy efficiency.

The white tank top stretches across his back when he reaches up to grab a box from the cabinet. The fabric lifts slightly, revealing the strip of tan skin above his jeans waistband. Your eyes snag there before you can stop them.

“You always stare that obviously?” he asks without turning around.

Your stomach drops.

“I’m not staring.”

He glances over his shoulder, then raises a brow. “Uh-huh.”

Heat crawls up your neck. You push off the kitchen island, sitting on the empty bar stool beside Haru instead.

“So, how old are you again?” Sukuna asks while stirring the noodles. The steam from the pot curls around his forearms.

You glance up from where you’re helping Haru scribble on his drawing book. 

“Twenty-two.”

Sukuna hums low. “College kid, then?”

“Yep. I’m just home for summer break.”

Haru nudges at you, completely uninterested in the adult small talk between you and Sukuna. “Draw me a dragon, please!”

You oblige, sketching a crude creature with too many teeth while Sukuna finishes cooking. The scent of butter and cheese fills the kitchen, thick and delicious. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sukuna watching you—his gaze heavy and lingering on the way your fingers move over the paper. When you glance up, he doesn’t look away.

Dinner is then served. Haru is practically vibrating in his seat as Sukuna slides a steaming bowl of mac and cheese in front of him. The kid digs in immediately, barely waiting for it to cool. You take smaller bites, extremely aware of the way Sukuna leans against the island instead of sitting, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you both eat.

“Good?” he asks, though his eyes are locked on your mouth when you nod.

“Mhm…” You lick a stray fleck of cheese from your bottom lip. You see his jaw tighten. “Reaaally good.”

As you eat, Haru chatters between bites about dragons and dinosaurs, blissfully unaware of the thickening tension between you and his father.

When the dishes are cleared—Sukuna insists on washing—Haru tugs at your hands again.

“Can we please watch a movie?”

You glance at Sukuna who only shrugs.

“Your call, kiddo,” he says while drying his hands on a towel.

Now, you’re wedged between Haru and Sukuna on the couch while some animated movie is playing on the large TV.

Haru’s already half-asleep against your side. You try to shift carefully, as to not to wake him, and your thigh brushes against Sukuna’s. The contact sends a jolt up your spine—his leg is warm beneath the fabric of his jeans.

He doesn’t move away.

The credits roll by the time Haru’s fully asleep. His soft snores puffing against your arm. You try to lift him, but Sukuna’s already reaching over you. His arm nearly brushes your breasts as he scoops the boy up effortlessly.

“I got him,” he murmurs. He’s so close you can smell the faint musk of his cologne mixed with something smokier.

You watch him carry Haru down the hall, his back flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt.

When he returns, the living room feels suddenly smaller. He doesn’t sit back down—just stands there, staring at you with that unreadable red gaze.

“You should head home,” he says, but his voice is rough.

You don’t move. “It’s still early.”

Sukuna exhales deeply, fingers flexing at his sides before he steps closer. His hand lands on the back of the couch, caging you in.

“You’re playin’ with fire, kid.”

You tilt your head up to meet his dead-on gaze.

“I’m not a kid.”

His smirk creeps slow. “No?” His free hand brushes your jaw, his calloused fingers rough on your skin. “Prove it, then.”

You don’t hesitate. Your hand instantly fists the front of his tank top, yanking him down until his mouth crashes into yours. He groans, the sound vibrating through your chest as his hands grip your hips. His tongue is hot and demanding, and you gasp when his teeth catch your bottom lip.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, fingers digging into bare skin where your denim shorts ride up.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your mouth, “you’ve been drivin’ me crazy since I first saw you.”

You let out a whimper when his thumb teasingly brushes the crotch of your shorts. 

Then, there’s a creak down the hall.

Sukuna pulls back instantly, chest heaving. Haru’s sleepy voice calls out, “Dada?”

He exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to yours for a fleeting second before he straightens.

“Go home,” he says, voice strained. “Before I ruin you.”

You’re still breathless when you slip out of the front door, the taste of him lingering on your lips. The night air does little to cool the heat prickling under your skin. You practically sprint across the lawn, your pulse hammering in your ears loud enough that you barely hear the cicadas buzzing in the trees.

The next day, you wake up feeling hot and tangled in your sheets with the memory of Sukuna’s hands on you playing on loop.

You groan, pressing your face into your pillow. “I am so fucked.”

The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly, the kind of heat that makes the smooth pavement shimmer. You peel off your sundress, letting it drop by the edge of the pool, leaving you in your skimpy bikini. The water glitters invitingly, and you dive in without hesitation. The cool shock of it steals your breath for a second before you resurface to brush your hair up.

You don’t notice the shadow in the second floor window of the house next door.

Sukuna is leaning against the window frame with his arms crossed, intently watching as you glide through the water with lazy strokes. His fingers tap absently against his bicep.

The angle is so perfect—the white slats of the fence do nothing to obscure the view of your back arching as you flip onto the lemon-shaped float.

Haru’s voice drifts downstairs, muffled. “Dada! I can’t find Mr. Scales!”

Sukuna doesn’t move.

“Check under the couch,” he calls back, his voice low. His eyes stay fixed on you as you sink back into the water.

You’re completely oblivious to the fact that he’s watching you. Always been, actually, since you came home weeks ago.

The first time he saw you, it’s not during one of your sunbathing shows. It started when you were lounging on the hammock under the big oak tree in your backyard. There’s a book propped open between your thighs. Your leg is dangling off the edge to push yourself into a slow rocking motion. Your sundress—some flimsy, pale yellow thing—has ridden up past your thighs, revealing the smooth expanse of your skin beneath. His fingers still on the windowsill when you drag your fingertips absently along your thighs, tracing invisible patterns as you read.

Days later, he catches you again—this time in a bikini so small he’s surprised it’s legal. You’re stretched out on a towel with your ass in the air as you flip through a magazine. You wiggle your hips slightly to adjust your position, and he nearly cracks the mug in his hand.

By the time you knock on his door with that plate of watermelon slices, he’s already mapped up every inch of skin you’ve bared to the sun.

You tilt your head back to soak up the sun, water sluicing on your neck down between your breasts. Your fingers trail along the surface of the water, trying to make ripples.

“Dada!” Haru’s tiny fists pound against the bedroom door.

Sukuna exhales sharply before pushing away from the window just as you climb out of the pool. He catches one last glimpse of you wringing out your hair before he yanks the door open.

Haru blinks up at him, his dragon stuffy in his arms. “Found him!”

Sukuna ruffles his hair, forcing his voice to ever sound so steady.

“Good. Wanna help me make lunch?”

You’re halfway through a pint of ice cream when your phone buzzes—your mother’s name flashing on the screen. You scoop another spoonful into your mouth before answering, muffled by the mint chocolate chip. 

“Yeah?”

“Sukuna just called,” she says, and you nearly choke. “Baby Haru won’t stop asking about you. Apparently, you made quite the impression.” There’s a pause. “Go over there.”

You splutter, ice cream dripping onto your lap. “What—now? Mom, it’s like, seven PM. Where are you and Dad, anyway?”

The line clicks dead.

You stare at your phone screen with a scoff, then down at your pajama shorts and the melted ice cream.

Fantastic.

Minutes later, you’re standing on Sukuna’s porch again. This time, in tight leggings and a hanging crop top. The door swings open before you can even ring the doorbell.

Sukuna leans against the frame, one eyebrow arched.

“Took you long enough.”

You scoff, pushing past him into the house. “I was busy.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice drops, rough against your ear as you pass. “Doin’ what?”

The air between you crackles—there’s a stupid, dizzying tension that makes your skin prickle. You ignore him, heading straight for the living room where Haru’s sprawled on the floor with crayons scattered around him.

“Hey, kiddo,” you greet him, dropping onto the carpet just beside him. “What’re we drawing?”

“Dinosaurs eating dragons!” he announces, showing a green crayon into your hand.

Sukuna watches from the doorway. His gaze burns into the back of your neck, but you refuse to turn around.

Haru leans closer to you and whispers, “Dada says you’re pretty.”

“Really? When did he say that?”

“When you were in the pool earlier.”

Your face heats up. When I was in the pool?

Sukuna clears his throat sharply. “Bedtime, Haru.”

“What? No!” Haru immediately whines, clinging his arm to yours. “She just got here!”

“Now.” There’s no room for argument in Sukuna’s tone. “Say good night.”

You bite your lip while helping Haru gather his crayons.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Haru pouts but lets Sukuna scoop him up, tiny arms looping around his neck. As they disappear down the hall, you hear Haru whisper, “Is she gonna be my new mom?”

Sukuna’s answer is too low to catch, but the thought alone makes you feel tense. You busy yourself with picking up stray crayons and markers.

When Sukuna returns exactly ten minutes later, the house is now too quiet. He stops behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“He’s sleeping now.”

You turn slowly, tilting your head up. “Liar. You just put him down.”

Your breath hitches when he steps closer, backing you against the couch. His hands settle on your waist, pressing into bare skin where your crop top rides up.

“You’re such a tease, you know?” he whispers. “You’ve been teasing me all day—swimmin’ in that tiny fucking bikini.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

Sukuna hums before hauling you toward him. His mouth crashes into yours, teeth and tongue and hot. You gasp when his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the couch. His hips slot between your legs, the hard press of him drawing a whimper from your throat.

“Fuck,” he grits out, almost biting down your neck. “Wanted this since you first strutted into my house.”

His hands are everywhere. Under your top, his fingers are now dragging over the swell of your breasts, palms scraping against your nipples until you arch into him with a gasp. You claw at his shirt, desperate to feel skin, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand. The other slides down your stomach until his fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings.

“You gonna be good for me?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice is so rough-edged. As if he’s barely holding together.

Sukuna exhales sharply when he doesn’t hear your answer. He suddenly lifts you up then hauls you onto his shoulder like a sack of flour. You yelp, hands scrambling against the solid muscle of his back, but he doesn’t falter. He strides through the house, the stairs groaning under his weight as he walks them two at a time.

The bedroom door clicks shut behind you, then he presses the lock. He puts you down on the bed, the mattress swallows you whole. The sheets smell like him, something warm and faintly smoky. You barely have time to catch your breath before Sukuna’s already stripping off his shirt. His hands fumble on his belt next, the buckle clinking as he slide it free.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and he’s on you before you can speak—one knee sinking into the mattress beside your thighs as he fists the hem of your crop top.

“Take ‘em off.”

You scramble to take your clothes off but when it’s your leggings and panties you’re pulling down, Sukuna helps you by yanking it down in one swift motion. He tosses it somewhere on the floor. You don’t even care at this point.

His fingers immediately press into the inside of your thighs, spreading you open.

“D’you like fucking old men?” His voice is rough, the words curling around your skin like smoke. His thumb brushes your slick folds. “Or is it just single dads that get you wet?”

You gasp when he presses two fingers inside without warning. “Fuck-”

“Answer me.” His fingers curl, dragging against your walls in a way that makes your toes curl.

You choke out a laugh. “You’re not really that old.”

Sukuna grins. “Nah. I’m old enough.” His fingers pull out only to slide back in, deeper this time, his thumb rolls on your clit along every thrust. “Old enough to know exactly how to ruin you.”

You whine while arching into his touch, but he slows teasingly until you’re panting and writhing beneath him.

“You like single dads to fuck you so bad?” His other hand grips your jaw to force you to look at him. “Like the idea of me bending you over while my kid’s asleep downstairs, huh?”

The thought sends a bolt of heat to your stomach. You nod frantically and Sukuna laughs darkly.

“Thought so.”

His fingers vanish, replaced by the thick head of his cock dragging through the lips of your pussy. The rub of him is agonizing—just the tip and his length with the barest hint of pressure. He’s big, thick, and veiny, you can feel it throbbing. You whine, hips bucking up to chase the sensation but Sukuna only pins you down with a hand on your hips.

“Patience, princess,” he whispers. He circles your clit with the tip of his cock. “You wanna come already? That fast?”

You bite your lip so hard that you taste copper. “Stop teasing, please.”

He laughs low and low, the sound almost vibrating through your chest. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider as he drags himself through your folds again. The friction burns in the best way but it’s not enough—never enough.

“You gotta beg for it.”

You reach out for his cock but he swats your hand away.

“Nah-ah. Use your words.” His teeth graze your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

You groan in frustration as your arousal twists in your gut. “Fuck me. Please—just put it in.”

He hums as if considering but he doesn’t move. Instead, he presses the tip against your entrance, letting you feel the stretch for a fraction of a second before pulling back once more.

“I know you can ask better than that,” he taunts. “C’mon, princess. You gotta show me how bad you want it.”

You arch off the bed with another frustrated noise, your fingers scrabbling at his shoulders in irritation from all his teasing.

“I swear to god, if you don’t-”

His hand wraps around your throat. “Or what?”

The hint of challenge in his tone only presses the heat in your abdomen more. You gulp against his palm.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please fuck me, Daddy.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens just slightly. “Good girl.”

Finally, he pushes inside, the stretch burning in the best way. You haven’t had sex for a long time now so you can’t help but wince when he enters you. You gasp as he bottoms out in one smooth thrust. He doesn’t immediately move, he lets you adjust to his fullness.

“Shit,” he grits out. “You’re so tight.”

You roll your hips experimentally and Sukuna’s breath hitches. His tightening grip on your throat tells you everything you need to know.

“Move,” you demand.

Sukuna growls, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. The force of it knocks the breath from your lungs, your nails raking down his back.

“That’s it,” he groans against your ear. “Take it like a good girl.”

His thrusts are deep and punishing. Each one dragging and ramming against that sweet spot inside you until you’re seeing stars. His hand leaves your throat to grip your thigh, yanking it higher to fuck into you at a new angle.

“You close?” His voice is rough and strained.

You nod frantically, feeling your orgasm coil tight in your stomach. You look down and the sight nearly sends you over the edge. Sukuna’s cock is glistening with your slick. The obscene push and pull of his hips is making your pussy clench around him. The sound is filthy, wet squelch filling the room with every snap of his hips.

His hot mouth finds your hardened nipples and sucks on them. Tongue swirling and teeth grazing just enough to make you arch from the sensation. You tug on his hair as the sharp sting mingles with the delicious stretch of him inside you. He envelops your whole tit in his mouth and bites down.

“Oh… m’god..! Oh my god!” you whimper, your voice cracking as his thrusts become deeper and rougher.

Your fingers twist in the sheets, now knuckles white from the strain of holding on. Sukuna’s grip on your thighs tighten.

“Yeah?” he rasps, his breath hot against your neck. “That’s it, baby—let go.”

He puts a hand on your lower stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock pressing up inside your pussy. The pressure is dizzying that every thrust now comes with the added sensation of his palm pressing down.

You choke out a cry. Your back keeps arching off the bed as pleasure rips through you. “W-Wait! S’too much!”

Sukuna smirks when he looks at your pretty little face while you’re now practically a babbling mess beneath him. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead. The headboard knocks against the wall with his every thrust that would’ve been mortifying if you could form a single coherent thought. But all you can do is gasp and moan while you struggle to hold onto something other than his sweaty arms and shoulders as he fucks you through oblivion.

“Come on, baby,” he grits out. “Squeeeezin’ me so goddamn tight!”

Sukuna leans in, his mouth crashing on yours in a messy and hungry kiss. You whimper into his mouth while looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His chest presses flush against yours until there’s no space left between you. The kiss turns filthy as he tongue licks the insides of your mouth as if mapping every inch.

He breaks the kiss with a chuckle. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Without any warning, he suddenly pulls out and flips you on your stomach, the sudden change in position making you yelp. His weight settles over you while he pins you down to the mattress.

“Up,” he commands before giving your ass a sharp slap that echoed in the room.

You scramble to push yourself on your knees. And when you do, Sukuna doesn’t even give you time to adjust. His large hands spread you open, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your ass. His cock slides in straight away. You bite down on your lip to stifle a moan but he only tells you to be louder.

“I’m so close! I’m so- O-Oh my fucking god! M’so close, Daddy!”

The words barely leave your mouth before Sukuna’s hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back. His breath is ragged against your ear, the slap of skin on skin drowning out the creak of the bedframe.

“D’you want Daddy to knock you up?” he growls in your ear. “Fill your tummy with my babies?”

“Yes! Yesyesyes, please!” 

The words tumble out of your mouth, delirious and raw. Sukuna groans deeper, his hips stuttering as he pistons into you harder. You feel like you’re drooling—which you truly are. Sukuna’s ragged breaths, the creaking of the bed, your pitching moans—everything comes close together.

“I’m gonna-” You choke on the words, thighs trembling as the coil inside you snaps.

Sukuna’s grip on your thighs return, his fingers bruising as he fucks you through it while his rhythm begins to stutter when your walls clamp down around his cock.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs. “Take it. Take all of it, baby.”

His hips jerk erratically, then he buries himself to the hilt with a groan so deep it vibrates through your spine. Heat floods your insides, his cock pulsing as he spills into you. You moan at the overstimulation but he doesn’t stop—just grinds his hips slowly to work his cum deeper inside your swollen pussy.

When he pulls out, you whine at the sudden emptiness. Sukuna sighs deeply before his fingers spread you open, smearing the oozing cum between your folds.

You breathlessly flop onto your back. Your chest heaves as you collapse onto the mattress, limbs tired and trembling. Sukuna looms over you as he shows you his fingers slick with his cum mingled with yours.

“Look at that,” he proudly says with smugness on his face. “All that fucking cream inside you and you’re still dripping.”

You watch as he brings his fingers close to your face. The scent of sex is thick in the air. You dart your tongue out and lick his fingers clean. The taste is both salty and bitter on your tastebuds. You release his fingers with a soft pop.

Sukuna drops beside you with a low groan, the mattress dipping under his weight. He turns his head, red eyes dragging over your wrecked form.

“Fuck,” he rasps as he wipe off the beads of sweat on your forehead. “Look at you.”

You shiver when his fingers trail lower, tracing the bite mark around your areola. His touch is oddly gentle now, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you raw. 

"You good?" he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You nod, throat too dry to speak.

Sukuna hums, rolling onto his side so he can face you fully. His hand settles possessively on your hip, fingers splayed wide.

"Gon’ be feelin' me tomorrow," he murmurs, dragging a fingertip down the inside of your thigh. "Every time you walk, every time you sit-" 

"Shut up," you mutter, feeling your cheeks burn. 

Sukuna lets out a deep laugh. His fingers trace idle patterns on your hipbone, calloused skin scraping lightly. The aftershocks of your orgasm still hum under your skin, leaving you almost limp and stupidly pliant beneath his touch.

“You’re real pretty when you’re all fucked out,” he whispers, fingers brushing the dip of your waist.

You roll your eyes and turn around away from him. He pulls you closer to him, curling his body against yours. His slow breathing fans across the back of your neck before he presses a long, soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You know, for an old man, your stamina is fucking crazy.”

Sukuna’s arm tightens around your waist, dragging you even closer to him. He huffs against your shoulder.