18+ mdni · sukuna thinks for so long that you have feelings for his twin brother, jin. but things change with one call from you, because if he only knew just how wrong he is.
The first time Sukuna met you, you were laughing at something Jin said that wasn't even funny to begin with. He figured there must be something loose in that head of yours because it was straight-out idiotic that, of all people, you acted so stupidly in front of his twin brother, and he wasn't sure why.
His first impression of you was nothing. Clearly, you failed to make an impression strong enough for Sukuna to remember you in that brief encounter, if he could call it that.
"Who's the dumb-dumb?" He once asked Jin, padding towards the living room from the kitchen where he popped a soda open.
Jin only gave a tense look at his brother's remark, but when Sukuna wouldn't budge, he sighed and added, "She's a dear friend. Don't call her that."
Sukuna raised his hands in surrender and ended the conversation.
Then suddenly, he was forced to remember you. Why? Because for some reason, you started showing up at their apartment like an annoying fungus.
At first, the meetups were scheduled.
"Hey, she's coming over." Jin would inform him with a tap of his foot against his, as he continued to type a swift response on his phone. "Please, be on your best behavior. She's sensitive. Though most are compared to you."
Sukuna snorted. "Whatever. I'll be in my room. Have fun, or whatever you kids call it these days."
"Ha-ha-ha," Jin shook his head.
Sukuna was fine with that routine for a while. Jin would give him a heads-up when you were coming over, and Sukuna would either slither into his room, drown everything out with loud-ass music blaring through his headphones, and do whatever he wished, or grab the keys from the counter table and go round the block until your dumbass left.
It was fine. That was fine. What was not fine was when you started to show up unannounced.
One time, he heard this goddamn pathetic squeak from the left side after he walked out of the shower, nothing but a robe tied around his waist, and Sukuna swore that he thought Jin had brought home an animal. But nope, there you were, gawking.
"Oh, my God! Shame! Have you no decency?!" You screamed, clamping your hands so powerfully hard against your eyes that Sukuna had to wince for you.
"What are you talking about? Why the fuck are you here anyway?"
"Jin told me to swing by. Said he'd be here in a couple of minutes. And to also make myself comfortable. Didn't know you were here, too."
"I do live here, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that!" You squabbled in retaliation. "Whatever, I'll turn around and stay in the living room."
"Sure thing. Have fun making out with my brother."
Oh, you should have seen the look on your face. You look unbelievably flabbergasted, with your mouth hanging wide open. And like an epiphany, like a drop in the ocean, Sukuna put two and two together and finally deduced why you've been clinging here like a leech.
Because suddenly, your presence here has been solved. And all he needed to do was exorcise you.
"You have the hots for my twin brother, don't you?"
"No!" You sounded like you were lying. Your ears turned an explicit shade as well. "S-Shut up!"
Sukuna laughed. "I wonder if my poor brother knows. Nah, he's a dumbass like you. He's got awful taste, too."
"Seriously, shut up! Please!" You paused. "And I think he's got great taste! You're probably just jealous!"
"Oh yeah, I'm super jealous." He rolled his eyes.
"Only if you admit that you've got a thing for Jin."
"Uhm, am I interrupting something?" Jin's voice cut through both yours and Sukuna's banter.
Sukuna remembered how you stood frozen, pale, and eyes unblinking. He supposed you were too stunned to come up with anything, too overwhelmed not to start groveling at Sukuna's feet to keep that conversation between you two a secret, but he got it. With the way you stood, with the way you lingered, and the lack of movement you possessed.
Oh, boy. He definitely got the memo.
And you owed him for that.
"Nah," Sukuna shook his head, making his way back into the room. "Just teasin'."
Now, it's been half a year, and the seasons have teased and mocked him.
Sukuna is seated on a plush armchair while you and Jin are on the longer sofa. Sukuna watches you make a fool of yourself, singing La Vie en Rose, and you do it with the poorest French accent he has ever heard.
Not that he can do any better, but still.
And tonight, Sukuna realizes several things.
He doesn't miss the way Jin starts inching towards you with a fond look on his face. How he carefully watches you sing and sway your hips sideways.
Sukuna doesn't miss how his own feelings seem to churn bitterly at the sight of that, of you and his brother being so close together, for reasons unknown or reasons he demands not to know, laughing like you did the first time he saw you.
And he doesn't miss it when his mind seems to open something he dares not name, but it creeps up regardless. Because if only he has an excuse to also —
"Get in here, 'Kuna!" You pull Sukuna forward and twirl yourself around him.
'Kuna? What in God's name did you call him?
He's never been called that before, yet somehow, the name escaping past your lips sounds forbidden, sweet, and selfishly his.
Not Jin's. Not his twin brother, who's looking at them intently now with an unreadable expression. Not his brother, who people often choose before they choose him. The spare, for once, is picked first.
Someone called him by a name that's never been said before, and it's all his. His — from the lips he never thought he wanted anything to do with months ago.
So, he gives you what you ask of him. He holds your hand up and helps you spin.
Then you spin, and spin, and spin. And you keep spinning until your feet can't do so anymore, until your head deliriously whirls, and you're reeling with a bubble of laughter as you collide not into Jin's, as Sukuna assumes, but into the embrace of the other twin who catches you with arms lined in dark sclera inks.
"Oops," you mumble breathlessly, "sorry."
Sukuna isn't. When you lock gazes with him, he hopes that his thoughts aren't loud enough for you to discern. Because damn, in that very moment, he wishes for something he knows he can't have.
With that, he clears his thoughts, steers you upright, and makes a lame excuse that he's got to go to bed.
He won't see you for another three months. And that's definitely his doing.
There's something awfully tense in the air when Jin returns to the apartment. Sukuna is sprawled lazily on the couch, a foot off, swaying back and forth, as he scrolls through post after post on his feed.
Jin sets his things down and collapses tiredly in the armchair. He sighs, stretches his limbs, and sinks further, his head tilting backwards.
"Rough day?" Sukuna mutters, not looking up.
Sukuna usually leaves things at that. Normally, he would be on his phone for a couple more minutes, then decide to get something to eat outside.
But then Jin moves his head towards him, and his eyes bore holes straight through Sukuna's skull.
"What do you want?" Sukuna asks, unnerved by all this.
Jin says nothing, though he takes off his pair of glasses.
"All right, either you say something or I'm leaving outta here. Go be weird by yourself."
Sukuna pauses mid-conversation. "The hell do you mean?"
Jin refuses to explain anymore. All he said were those words. And as if he's the one who couldn't take the situation, like he's running away from something he shouldn't, Jin gets up and quietly enters his room.
Another two weeks fly by since that uncanny incident. Sukuna still has no clue what Jin means; however, seeing as you've visited less and less until one day you don't show up anymore, Sukuna has an inkling that it has something to do with you.
Sukuna can't think of how, really. Jin's not the violent type or someone who gets fitfully angry, so what could Jin possibly have done or said to make him confess such a thing?
The answer comes the next night. Jin's knocked out in the living room, something about Kaori being this or that, but Sukuna couldn't care less, and his phone buzzes against the cold coffee table. It buzzes again. Once more. And then three more calls.
By the sixth call, Sukuna can't take it anymore. He picks up the phone and answers for his brother's sake.
Only to be greeted by the voice that plagues most of his nights. The voice he unknowingly wishes to hear again because it's been quite a while since he last heard you. Or even seen you; at this point, he can take what he can get.
But you sound different. Differently intoxicated, as you slur Jin's name.
"Where are you?" Sukuna hears himself demand.
He drops the phone, takes his keys, and leaves. Nearly midnight, he speeds down the silent road, wondering why, why is he doing this?
When you called Jin, not him.
You are sitting on a red curb, heels thrown over your shoulder, and playing footsies with another woman when Sukuna finally pulls over.
The stranger looks up first, brushes your shoulder, then points a finger towards him. You look wasted, for you never look up even when Sukuna crouches in front of you.
"She's not drunk," the woman reassures, "just sprained her ankle."
You snort or sniffle. Sukuna doesn't bother wondering which one. He's too busy checking on you to make sure you're okay.
"The heel broke, if that's what you're wondering." You say.
"I wasn't." Sukuna huffs, but he did.
"Coulda hit your head, and maybe that would've brought some sense back into you."
"Ha-ha," you roll your eyes at him. "You're funny, you know that?"
"I do my best, sweetheart." He smirks.
"Told you to stop calling me that before."
"Hmm, and what did I say?"
Someone clears their throat, and both of you snap your attention to her. Sukuna almost forgets they've got company, and when he looks at your friend with mild irritation, he wishes she could just up and leave already.
"Yes?" He says a little more forcefully. "What do you want?"
"Right, well, uhm," she stammers, gaze flickering towards you instead. "I'm assuming you know him? You're gonna be okay?"
You chortle loudly. "Yeah, I know him, all right."
Your friend raises a brow. "You sure?"
Sukuna should've felt offended, because aside from his face and body tattoos, is there anything else that screams danger about him? Jesus, he wouldn't have gone through this shit if he hadn't known you.
You wave your hand nonchalantly, dismissing your friend's concern. "Yeah, yeah, I really know him. He's the twin brother."
"Oh." Your friend says. Then realization hits her. "Oh."
Now that, Sukuna isn't going to brush it off. Oh, he's definitely going to ask you about that later on, because that is strange. The look on your friend's face as she sizes him up and down, which he returns just out of pettiness. That's a definite oh.
"Let's go." Sukuna grabs your hand and pulls you up. "The curb is dirty as hell."
You hobble to his side. "Slow down for a sec, will you?"
"No." Sukuna breathes out. "I'm tired, probably hungry, and it's late. We're going."
He leads you to the car. You slide in, albeit with a bit of difficulty. He makes sure you're properly situated before he rounds to the other side and gets in.
The drive to your place is silent, but not uncomfortable. You begin lolling, yet you force yourself awake. You arrive faster than you expect, though you should know it's because it's late and there are hardly any cars on the road.
When he turns off the engine, you stay rooted in your seat. You huddle your feet closer. Sukuna notices your swollen ankle and sighs.
"We need to get inside. I need to ice that thing, or it's going to get worse." He tells you in a whisper.
"I-I know," you say, "just give me a minute."
"I will give you a minute — inside."
"Listen, you're not a doctor or anything." You glare. "Let me just wallow in my own bubble here, okay?"
Sukuna begrudgingly lets you be. His finger taps and drums the steering wheel gently. You don't seem to mind the beat he makes. In fact, it sounds soothing, helping you relax past the ringing in your ears and the aching clench of your heart.
As if this is exactly what you need right now. Not the dinner plan you were forced to attend. Certainly not the repeated texts and calls your friend made to Jin's contact for your sake because he was the only one close enough to come and get you.
And not the guilt and visceral pain eating you up because it's Sukuna who showed up.
Not that you expect Jin to do so — not anymore, after your last conversation with him turned mildly sour.
"Excuse me?" You blink, confused.
"I'm going to open the door for you, dumb-dumb. I already gave you a second. So go wallow in your stupid pity party inside." Sukuna flicks your forehead playfully. "Can you walk?"
Sukuna stares at you apprehensively. "If you fall, I'm not gonna be catchi —"
"— I already said I'm fine." You cut him off. "Let's go."
It takes a couple of minutes of you hobbling to your apartment complex, coupled with Sukuna's complaints and your retaliation, jamming the keys aggressively, steering him to where the kitchen is, and ultimately plopping yourself on top of the counter, and watching him rummage through the freezer and grabbing a kitchen towel to lessen the impact of the ice cubes.
All that in a span of ten minutes, and here you two are, under the warm fluorescent light coming from your ceiling fan you forgot to turn off.
Sukuna leans a little closer to your front, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as he does his best to apply the ice evenly around your ankle.
"You don't have to do this." You tell him.
"Hm?" He lifts his head with a hum. "What did you say?"
"I said," you emphasize, "you don't have to do this. You know —" you motion with your chin towards your foot, "this. I-I could've done it myself."
"Whatever you say, sweetheart."
"Why do you keep calling me that?" You ask.
"Sweetheart." You shrug. "Do you call every woman you know that, too?"
"You're annoying," Sukuna mutters under his breath. "And no, I don't. That'll be weird."
"I heard that, you moron!" You lightly smack his shoulder. "So why do you call me that?"
Sukuna gently runs his hands around your ankles. ". . . tongue . . ."
"What?" You lean forward.
"I said." Sukuna grits his teeth, refusing to meet your eyes. "It was a slip of the tongue, and it just became a thing."
It's your turn to avert your gaze from him. Grabbing the wooden spatula distractedly, you purse your lips at him. "I-I see."
"Your foot should be better in a couple of days. Just don't do any parkour or some dumb shit you do."
You flail your arms about, accidentally hitting his head with the spatula. "Since when do I do parkour?"
"You tell me," Sukuna smirks teasingly.
"Ugh!" You groan. "You're annoying, you know that?"
"You never should've come in the first place. In fact, I didn't even call you!"
"Oh yeah?" He cages you with his arms as he slowly comes closer, until he can feel the warmth of your breath teasing his philtrum. Your nose barely touches the tip of his.
He only stops when there's a minuscule change in your features. This is more than enough; you cannot possibly take any more of his proximity.
"Sorry, you got the other twin, sweetheart. But Jin's knocked out cold." Sukuna pushes another way. "He's a deep sleeper, so you're out of luck with that idiot."
Is it because of the same bitterness he felt nearly three months ago, of the way his brother kept looking at you, and you, for that split second, did as well? That, from Sukuna's point of view, it's as if there's no one else who was in that room with you and his Jin.
Perhaps that is what it is — why he insists on pushing until you admit something you've never even told him. Against him? Against his brother? Against your own self? Who knows.
"He's not here," he pauses, then adds. "So why do you keep looking for him?"
Finally, you bring your eyes — the color he doesn't think he'd ever come to appreciate because it's nowhere near the shades he prefers — to meet his.
An ephemera of emotions: of the pain, of the love, of something that could've been and yet it'll never be.
This time, Sukuna is the one to reel back away from the intensity. Yet, you linger. You cling to the presence he forced out of you.
"What're you implying, Sukuna?" How you said Sukuna's name on your lips feels different, yet almost natural.
"I don't know." He admits. "It's like you're still looking for him even though I showed up."
"I wasn't." You say honestly. "I never did."
"Okay then." Sukuna's jaw clenches. "So, why did you react that way when I mentioned him?" Why did you react like he's hurt you as a lover would've?
Your shoulders slump. "Jin and I . . . aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."
Sukuna's brows shoot up. "I'm assuming this has something to do with you not coming over?"
"Yeah, you could say that." You clear your throat. "I don't like airing it out because he's your brother!"
"What do you mean 'and?'" You sputter. "He's your brother. Don't you take sides when, you know,"
Sukuna chuckles, tilting his head teasingly. "I really don't. Gotta clear that up for me, will ya?"
"When someone argues with him. Won't you take his side?"
"No." Sukuna scoffs. "If he's in the wrong, he gets out of that bullshit by himself. Just because he's my brother doesn't mean I gotta bust my ass for him at times."
"But what if it's serious?"
"Then, we'll see," Sukuna says nonchalantly. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, but that really depends on what dumb shit he got himself into. And that rule applies to me, too."
"So," Sukuna bounces on his feet, "this thing between you and him?"
"All right, but promise me you won't look at him differently. You'd still love him. All right? Promise me. Promise me!"
"Okay, okay! Yes, I promise, woman. Goddammit."
"Ugh, I can't. Okay, how about this: I'll tell you the gist. Let's say that Jin and I started arguing about blah, and then it got worse because this blah is some-blah we care about —"
"— Shut up and listen! So Jin got really angry at me and said some things that really hurt, and they were stuff I only told him, and he just used those against me, and it's all because I said that I might've cared more than I thought about this . . . blah."
Sukuna's eye twitches. What the fuck did he just listen to? Who the fuck is blah?
There you are, staring at him with wide eyes, hoping he gets the message. But whatever message that is, did you even say it properly? Sukuna is at a loss.
But one thing does make sense now.
Those exact words ring in his ears over and over and over again.
Is that why you refused to look at him when he came and picked you up earlier, crouching close to the dirtied curb, irrationally thinking that if it weren't you, he wouldn't even bother picking anyone up, let alone be here?
What would you have done differently if it were his twin brother showing up instead of him?
"Also," you raise your index finger, "if I may add. Jin's with someone else, too. That's another reason why I don't just come over anymore. It'll be weird. And I wanna respect his partner and their space."
"Is he now?" He tries to steady the bubbling feeling in his guts. Something akin to hope, that he is yet to hold.
Sukuna snorts. "Was this before or after?"
"Not sure," you purse your lips. "They've known each other for a while now. They must’ve gotten official somewhere in there."
"That sucks." Sukuna whistles.
"Ugh!" You cut him off abruptly, rubbing your hands together before covering your face. "Just thinking about what I did. Ugh! God, I'm so stupid. I never should've called him."
Sukuna pushes again. He's a bit more desperate. Perhaps it's the night stretching his patience thin, or that he's had it with the situation going in circles. "Why did you call when you say that you shouldn't have?"
Even when Sukuna grabs your hands, releases their hold on your face, and drops them to your side. Despite Sukuna pressing his forehead against yours. Because in his muddled head, all he can think about is: to hell with boundaries. And even when he nuzzles your cheek, tilts your head upward until your lips and his are a hairsbreadth away — you still say nothing.
"Sukuna," you breathe out, "too close."
Sukuna forcefully lets you go and pulls back.
You shake your head. "He was the only one who's nearby and who actually knows my place. But even then, I was anxious. The first five calls came from my friend because I was being a chicken and she was getting all pissy at me."
"That was me. You have no idea how relieved I felt when you answered. Believe me, if I had another choice, I would've picked anybody else."
"What about that friend of yours waiting by the curb with you?"
"They'll be bar hopping and probably won't be able to take me back till morning. I might as well sleep on the streets. I also tried calling for a taxi or whatever people call it these days, but it'll take them an hour, and I really wanted to go home. My ankle was hurting"
"To be honest with you, if I could, I really would've just walked home. I've done that once before, but." You raise your ankle.
"You could've —" Sukuna starts.
"— I don't have your number." You finish. "I thought about that when I was ringing Jin, but," you sigh, "that's another thing I don't want to deal with him. I already know I'm gonna get shit on about it."
You only wave your hand dismissively. Sukuna doesn't push.
"You can still come over to the apartment." Sukuna offers.
"Nah!" You close your eyes. "It'll be weird. Because what if she stops by? And I'm there? I'm already getting stressed out about that, having to explain, and yadda-yadda-yadda."
Sukuna shrug. "Tell 'em that you're there for me."
You shake your head. "And then what? We sit there in silence?"
"You've been making a fool of yourself just fine even when I'm around. What'll be different then to the possible future?"
You roll your eyes. "Maybe because I don't think I can play pretend that well. Okay? Some of us aren't built to be terrific liars. I'm probably in that left side of the Venn diagram where I'm horribly bad at it."
"Hmm, yeah," Sukuna agrees. "You do suck at hiding your emotions."
"See!" You laugh humorously. "Don't think that'll work, smarty-pants."
"But you also don't have to pretend." Sukuna offers. "You could be —"
Be mine. That's what he wants to say.
"Thanks, but it's still gonna be weird." You tell him. "Until Jin and I patch up, I won't be stepping foot there for a while, sorry, 'Kuna."
"Well, that sucks," Sukuna says again, rather dryly.
"Sorry," you say, and you mean it. "Jin isn't usually this crazy, but ever since I admitted that I like —"
"Forget it. I-It's late. I'll lead you out." You try to jump off the counter, but Sukuna's arms, caging you all this time, press against your skin.
You stifle a gasp at the heat he brings, at the way he looms over you, making sure there's no one else you're turning to but him. To him. For him.
"Finish it." He says, his voice dropping low. "Finish what you started."
He pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Go on."
Another turmoil in the way you flatten your lips and then purse them afterwards.
Can you really tell him about this new, profound, and overwhelming feeling you suddenly catch for this tattoo-covered idiot?
A part of you is so close to telling him. To get this over with, because what else is there for you to do? You've already said more than half of the confession; why not finish it already?
Sukuna appears to be as pleading as you are.
But the other part? For some reason, you feel this gnawing guilt because this is your dearest friend's brother, for God's sake. Is it wrong to have fallen for Sukuna? You've barely even seen the guy, and most of the time you've seen him, he only sits and watches or goes on his phone — and for some reason, that, in itself, got you hook, line, and sinker.
But Jin's request — or threat — hovers around your head like a curse you can't get rid of.
Was it wrong to go against what he told you? When he said not to even think about pursuing his twin brother because he said so, and it would ruin every fiber of their friendship.
You try your damnedest to listen and respect Jin's wish. The last thing you want is to jeopardize your friendship, and to an extent, you understand where he's coming from.
But, goodness, you can't stay quiet. You really can't.
And Sukuna isn't making things any easier for you, too. He's peering down at you, silently coaxing the answer he already knows.
Then an unbridled wave of uncertainty washes away, and in its place comes a brazen burst of energy that lets you open your mouth and finally admit: "I've liked you ever since three months ago, when we first danced together."
Then Sukuna closes the distance; at last, lips touch against yours. You taste bittersweet, and so does he. Yet, it feels right. It feels too good.
Sukuna angles your head to one side, then slips his tongue into your mouth. You groan against him, and he gets a little greedier.
"Up." He pulls back enough to tell you. You carefully jump into his arms, and he leads you to the bedroom.
All it takes is a kiss, which you promise yourself to remember if this is the first and only time you two can be together. And that's all it takes for the sheets to welcome you and Sukuna, your back pressed intimately between soft cotton and a toned body.
You promise that after this, you're going to heed what Jin told you.
But you also know it's hard to tell a lie. It's hard to back up a lie. And you could try and lie through your teeth, and so can Sukuna, but this thing, with what's happening between you two, feels almost catatonic.
Neither of you can make this up — the intensity with which you two have tried to stay away from each other. It instead pulls you together magnetically.
Sukuna is between your legs in an instant. His inked hands spread you apart for him, undoing you with the touches of his tongue and his arms tracing patterns on your skin.
"You taste good, sweetheart." He says against your throbbing cunt.
You tug at his hair, grind your face aggressively, and whimper about his name, the heavens, and something that sounds like more, fuck, more.
Sukuna thumbs along your slit, watching you quiver responsively. After the second time you orgasm for him, after hearing you mewl for him, he positions his veined, throbbing cock and bottoms out.
"My name." He tells you possessively. "My name, sweetheart."
"'Kuna, Sukuna, 'Kuna, Sukuna."
"Fuck me, please, Sukuna. Sukuna, please. Sukuna."
"That's it. That's my good girl."
His fingers bloom marks against your thighs. His canines move towards the crevice between your neck and collarbone, sucking and sucking until bruises show up. Until his claim is shown enough that not even a shirt can hide it.
"Fuck!" You cry out, arching your back.
Then he makes you straddle him. Both of your hips roll in tandem. His hands move down to curl a finger on long strands of your pubic hair, groaning against your shoulder because — fuck! — he loves how hairy you are below.
He loves you naturally like this. So, so unbelievably natural.
"Don't you fucking shave." He tells you. "You hear me? Would hate that. I want this, just like this. I want how you are."
"Mhmm," you can only hum a response.
"Fuck! Look at you. Look at how hot you are, baby. Fuck! Need more."
He flips you around and fucks you from behind. You grip the headboard, the same time he fists your hair and yanks you back. The intensity of the way he fucks you is enough to let you ride over your third — or is it your fourth? — orgasm.
Still, Sukuna continues. He doesn't stop to give you a breather. He doesn't even slow his pace; if anything, he quickens it as you come for him.
Sukuna spots your mirror from the corner of his eye, then redirects both of your bodies towards it.
"Look at yourself in that goddamn mirror of yours." He growls.
He watches his dick fucking you in and fucking you out. He sees your own juices lubricating him, coating him in a sheen of white pleasure.
His hands work their way to your breasts, fondling them roughly. They trace down like ripples of water to your abdomen, where he splays one hand flat against you. Then the other returns to your bush, playing it fervently.
Your mouth hangs open, your hands flail until you lock them around his head.
"Spread for me. Come on, baby."
Your shaking fingers slide lower and lower, until you pry your labia wider. Enough to see his dick ramming into you profusely. His fingers play, flick, and pull your swollen clit.
The sheets are soaked as you squirt hard. Sukuna is yet to bring respite with his pace.
Sukuna lets out a guttural moan. Then, he slaps your ass once on one side and twice on the other. You call his name. You cry it out.
None of your words are heeded. Sukuna is in his own aphrodisiac world. You say his name again. But to him, it's beyond what he must've imagined tonight because here you two are; your body is shaping to his.
"Sukuna! I-Im close, fuck, fuck! Please! Please!"
Sukuna is panting roughly above you. He grips one of your thighs and raises it higher, granting him more access to your wet, abused, and sinful cunt.
His thrusts are nasty, but you're as nasty as he is as you continue to grind up and down to his dick. Both of you are too deep, too quick, taking each other apart inside and out as if all those pent-up chances of seeing you and the days that bleed over have been summed up in one whole fucking.
"That's it. There's my baby girl."
"Please, let me come, 'Kuna. Please."
"Come for 'Kuna, baby." He kisses you. "I'm here, sweetheart. I've got you."
A name is said. And then the other. Someone whispers something, yet neither is sure who starts and finishes the conversation.
Then you squeeze his cock, and he barely manages to pull out before he spills all over your back. Hot liquid painting you like you are a blank canvas in need of a color.
He gets up, grabs your towel, and wipes you clean. When both of you have regained your breath, he takes you to bed, lets his arms wrap around you, and presses you firmly against his chest.
Both of you are reeling from the events that unfolded.
He kisses your hair, your cheek, a little to the crook of your lips, then to the mark he gave you. And you do the same for him. Within the shared, comfortable space, you and Sukuna allow yourselves this moment — before the weight of your actions comes crashing down and drowning you both completely.
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