Hyperfixations Ad Nauseam 📚

Sighing as you found yourself standing outside his room, pausing to peek through the now cracked window, watching Sukuna sitting on his too-small bed, back against the concrete wall with his muscled arms folded across his chest, completely fucking naked as his furry ears bristled in irritation. 

He was attractive, annoyingly so, enough to remind you every time you saw him why the hybrid population kept increasing every year, but you as quick as the thought floated up, you shoved it back down. 

You knocked twice on the door before scanning your card again, peeking inside before stepping in, feeling his stare on you before you looked up at the man of the hour. Or well, tiger of the hour. 

“Took you long enough,” he tch-ed, a low growl escaping his throat as he sauntered to his feet. 

“What did you do this time?” You wryly asked, nose scrunching up as you let your eyes scan the rest of his room. Someone must have tried to toss some toys in, as if he was a cub instead of fully grown, the remains of a plush mouse scattered across the floor. 

“The blonde tried to bathe me,” he indignantly scoffed, head held proudly up. You were tempted to tell him that he had a perfectly good bathroom already attached to his room – complete with a shower and tub he could use to wash himself, if he wasn’t so high and mighty to insist on being babied. Or, according to his perspective, treated like the king of this place he frequently insisted he hated so much.

You exhaled, shutting your eyes for just a second to massage your temples in an attempt to stall the headache brewing behind them only to open them and find him standing six inches away. Looking down at you. 

“I told her you’re the only one that can touch me,” he muttered, low and almost lethal. His hand reached out to skim over your bicep, barely touching but still enough for you to feel the pressure behind his fingertips. “She sent in the fucking vet to try to sedate me.” 

“And how did that go?” You sarcastically asked, as if you didn’t have a pretty decent inkling. 

“Well, they called you, didn’t they?” He sharply retorted, cocking his head to the side, jaw clenched as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. 

He got what he wanted. 

And you got to scrub a ridiculously oversized man in a tub for twenty minutes while he complained about not having enough bath salts, rubbing a sponge over his ridiculously ripped back muscles as he muttered about how awful everyone else here was. Grumbling with gritted teeth while your hands ran over his spine, damp sleeves rolled up over your elbows as you traced shapes along his strong arms, his slightly musky scent still invading your nostrils no matter how much soap you used. 

It wasn’t bad, even if it was strong. 

All masculine and warm, whatever pheromones he was putting off having a funny effect on your head the longer you knelt so close to him, sighing as you reached into the water and pulled up the drain. 

“Bath time’s over,” you muttered softly, standing up and grabbing a thick towel to hold out for him, making a point to not look past the thick patch of his happy trail when he wrapped it around his waist, even if you couldn’t not notice the way his damp tail dripped water behind him after he got out. 

“Where are you goin’?” He growled when you started to walk back out, his claws poking out in protest as your hand paused just before you could scan your key card to get out. “Home,” you muttered. “You better have some clothes on when I come back.” 

The shelter sure spent fucking enough on custom robes big enough to fit him. 

He snarled, two seconds from making a snide comment, but you slipped out before he could. 

You were ready to crawl back into your own bed, curl up and get some sleep, maybe message your boss before you passed out that you’d be a little late in the morning since you had to come in overnight. Let yourself get an extra hour or two of rest before you had to deal with him again. 

Except, uh, your boss was already waiting for you in the lobby, Yaga leaning back against the receptionist desk and grimacing at the fluorescent lights as you stopped and stared. 

“Is everything okay?” You blinked a few times, just for him to fix you in a solemn stare.

And still, while your brain scrambled to come up with a reason for him being here too, you didn’t expect what left his mouth now as he jutted his thumb in the direction you came from. 

“Do you think you could foster him?” 

No. No, there was no way-

Except, um, apparently, there was a way when they offered you a hefty bonus and a few days off, and Shoko slipped a strong sedative in his breakfast so you could transfer him from his room back to your place – which you promptly had to Sukuna proof. 

You expected him to throw a fit when he eventually woke up, to try and break through your front door and escape. 

But he just sniffed the air slowly before he even lazily opened up his dark eyes to glance around your apartment, a crooked smile curling up as he centered his stare on you. 

“So I’m your problem now?” 

Was it too late to take him back? 

Trade in your annoying tiger hybrid for a fluffy housecat? 

In your personal experience, all felines were funny in that they could listen perfectly fine – they just didn’t care. 

And Sukuna was no exception. 

Shredding your curtains when you went out without telling him, sinking his sharp teeth into your pillows after you made him floss between them, turning your couch into his personal little nest and dragging your clothes from your closet into it. Judging the comfort of your blankets and commenting on how boring it was being here, acting like he’d rather be back at the shelter as he ate half the food in your fridge in a few hours. 

He was insufferable and spoiled and a million other awful adjectives you could assign him, but it wasn’t totally terrible to come home from your shifts to someone warm. Who’d begrudgingly let you scratch behind his ears and stroke his pretty, pink hair. You took him to the park as much as you could, ignoring the pointed stares you’d receive and the people who muttered that he should have a muzzle on while he begrudgingly stayed by your side. 

It wasn’t like you had a backyard he could stretch his limbs or lounge in. 

And two months in, you hadn’t exactly envisioned starting off your mornings with fur in your mouth and the weight of a full-grown man on your chest, but you guessed there were worse things. 

You might even miss him when all this came to an end, which, according to the text message you woke up to from Yaga, might be sooner than you think. Some rich guy had apparently called asking about him, claiming he owned thirty acres of land he used to house exotic hybrids and wanted to add Sukuna to his collection. 

Now you just had to figure out how to tell him that he might have a new owner. 

You tried to sneak over to the bathroom after carefully extracting yourself from underneath him, bare feet padding out while you glanced over your shoulder at the slumbering mass in your bed, a little bit of drool leaking down his lips as he snored on your pillow. 

He almost looked peaceful like this. 

As if you hadn’t gotten back from work last night to discover a stash of your panties underneath the daybed he’d currently taken over in your spare room. And the, um, dried substance they seemed to be coated in you’d 

 desperately been trying not to think too hard about. 

Okay, perhaps he was closer to a perverted roommate than a pet. 

But you couldn’t scrub out the guilt that seemed to cling to your skin in the shower, hot water running over your body as you sighed to yourself and debated on how you’d break the news when he had started to settle in here. 

At least there he’d be able to have the space he needed, time outdoors, probably better nutrition than what you could afford to keep in your fridge and pantry, even with the added provisions your work provided for him. He was about as antisocial as it came – but there might be other hybrids there that he could actually stand being around. Closer to his spot on the food chain instead of the other ones he usually sneered down at. 

His new owner might even treat him like the king he thought he was. 

The shower curtain was abruptly pulled back, your arm rushing to cover up your tits, but his eyes were just on yours, his sharp nose scrunched up in a familiar scowl as he grunted good morning, his clothes already stripped off as he stepped in after you. 

“What is your problem?” You huffed at him, but he just yawned, toothpaste stuck to his bottom lip as he reached past you to grab the bottle of specialty hybrid shampoo you bought for him. 

“Didn’t you tell me yesterday we have to conserve water or some shit?” He grunted, lathering up his hair like his rock hard dick wasn’t out and poking you in the thigh. 

“I didn’t mean-” You started to groan, lips pressed together in a flustered frown. Swallowing hard as you struggled to keep your stare somewhere appropriate. You’d like to pretend your relationship was entirely platonic. That it fit perfectly in the boundaries of what it was supposed to. 

Where the only spot of your heart he occupied was pure. That the growing intimacy you’d been ignoring was innocent. 

It was getting a lot fucking harder to believe it when he felt more and more like a person to you every day. More human. 

“You were takin’ too long,” he added, moving over to bump his hip into yours to start hogging the hot water for himself. 

You stepped back, goosebumps trailing down your arms once you were out of the stream, holding your breath as you debated on ripping the bandaid off while he was washing himself for once. 

“Someone wants to buy you,” you heard yourself say, unsure of what emotion it was in your voice as he suddenly went still, tail twitching as his shoulders straightened. “Um, adopt, I guess.” 

He turned his head, just barely, enough for you to catch his nasty side-eye and locked jaw. 

“That’s not fucking funny,” he growled. 

“Yaga texted me,” you continued, careful to keep your tone steady. “Said some guy with a ton of acres wants to take you in. Guess he like, collects rare-” 

“No.” 

“No?” You incredulously repeated. “You can’t just-” 

“I’m not going to be some fucking breeding stock for an asshole who wants to stick me in an enclosure,” he declared, your mouth hanging open at the wild assumption he jumped to just from a couple sentences. 

“Who said anything about breeding?” You gaped, eyebrows arching up as you stopped yourself from stomping your foot. 

“You’re delusional if you don’t think that’s the only reason someone would want a problem hybrid like me,” he half-glared at you, molars grinding as you tried to come up with a reason to argue with him. 

“I-” You stopped yourself, blinking too hard and fast. 

“Tell them no,” he spat the word back out, thick brows furrowed together tightly as he shut off the water. 

“What if someone else wants to-” You started, and his whole body twisted around, his arms suddenly caging you in as you shrank back against the cold walls of the shower, all the air in your lungs ripped from you as he pinned you in. 

“I’m yours,” he hissed. “You can’t just toss me out like I’m some fuckin’ stray.” 

You were pretty sure you were gawking, grasping at straws to push him away when heat was pooling and simmering in the pit of your stomach. 

“They’ll be able to give you a better life than-” 

His mouth crashed into yours, fingers tangling in your hair while he shut up your stuttered gasp with his tongue slipping past your lips. 

He didn’t ask for permission. 

But maybe it was because he didn’t need to. 

Because when it boiled down to it, you’d let him into your home. Your shower. Let him slice and carve out half of your heart, even when you knew he’d probably just chew it up and spit it out. 

“Mmph, S’kuna,” you tried to breathe, placing a damp hand on his bare chest, fingers pressing down as he just kissed you again, struck by how strange it was to taste your own toothpaste on him, smell your soap on his skin and see the strawberry-scented shampoo suds running down his chiseled chest. His cute fuzzy ears standing up straight between his wet strands of pink hair. 

“You want me to stop?” He dared between kisses, moving down to your jaw, painting your skin with greedy wet sucks as he dragged his rough tongue across the sensitive skin. “Wanna keep pretending that I’m just your pet?” 

He wasn’t. 

And when your eyes skimmed down his pretty chest and his dripping cock, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no. 

“You know you’re not,” you whispered, as close as you could come to a confession. 

Let him grab you by the ass next, hoisting you up as his mouth returned to yours, matching his starving fervor, wrapping your wrists around his neck as he groaned into the kiss. And maybe it was how wrong it was, but you didn’t think any kiss before this had ever felt so right. 

His fingers dug into your soft flesh, dimpling it as he tried to claim you with his tongue and teeth, a low growl ripping from the deepest part of his chest you felt his cock catch right at your entrance. 

You sort of expected him to just cave into the desires you knew were hardwired into hybrids like him. Just jam his cock in and breed you until he had his fill, or uh, filled you up. It wasn’t like he could even get you pregnant, not when you’d been on birth control far before you met him. 

But before you could brace yourself for the burning stretch that was surely coming, he was ripping free from the kiss to lift you up higher. Like, a lot higher. 

Using that ridiculous strength of his to balance your weight as he pressed your damp body against the cold wall of the shower, ignoring your squirming until his your cunt was presented right in front of his mouth. 

Dragging his rough tongue across it, worming his way in before you could so much as mumble the probably needed what the hell was he doing. 

You guessed you already knew what the answer was. 

He was always starving, after all. 

You’d just become his breakfast. 

Your head leaning back against the shower wall while his hands steadily supported your weight, keeping your thighs spread enough to make room to bury his head between them. Sloppily swirling his tongue inside you, using the thick muscle to map you out, explore you with an expertise you hadn’t expected. An attention to detail you hadn’t thought he was capable of when it came to something that didn’t benefit him. 

Although, judging by the feral moans reverberating through you from his mouth, you guessed he was getting some pleasure in eating you out. 

Fingers digging in possessively to your soft flesh, his tongue flicking in-and-out fast, your chest straining to contain your rapid heartbeats as little jolts of electricity raced through the rest of you. Arousal and anticipation bleeding into each other as they overwrote your anxiety over what you were letting him do.

Just when his tongue slid back out, traced a messy line up to your needy clit, and you foolishly thought he was about to make you cum for him, his head turned up, looking up at you almost accusatory through half-lidded eyes. 

“You’re soakin’, brat,” he scoffed, and you could make out a hint of a crude smirk on his lips. 

“We’re in the shower,” you tried to retort, like heat wasn’t flooding your face – and between your legs. 

“Water’s been off for like, five minutes,” he reminded you. 

Your mouth fell open, but you couldn’t come up with a reply sharp enough to shut him up. 

It didn’t matter though. Because his hands shifted, and you were falling, a scary second passing before he grabbed you and pinned you back in the first position, chuckling with amusement as he lifted your thighs up, pressing them against your chest and squishing your tits as you tried to wiggle in his renewed grip. 

Stupid. 

He was too strong, his hold too tight, the tips of his claws teasingly pressing into your skin as you whined, more aware of the emptiness in your pussy than you’d like to be. The ache he’d left you with desperate to be soothed, stuffed. 

“You should go dry off,” he mocked, your heart stopping at his suggestion, playing right into his hand. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?” 

“Can’t you just shut up and fuck me already?” You hissed at him, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of your throat instead of stomping your foot like you instinctively wanted to. A little swish, a flash of orange caught your attention in the corner of your vision, a smile curling up on your lips when you realized his tail was wagging. 

He could play coy. 

Act sly and in control. 

But his body gave him away. 

And while you were distracted, he’d taken the chance to line himself up, angle and all, just to slide himself in like it was nothing, his saliva acting as lube as he shoved inch after inch in. His rather, ah, large girth barely able to make it through, your thoughts immediately fizzling out into a chorus of holy fucking shit, how much more is there only for it to keep going. 

His mouth returned to your face, leaving messy kisses all over your cheeks, down your jaw, wherever he could reach, like it could coax you through the mean stretch of his cock spearing you open. 

“So fuckin’ tight, brat,” he groaned, teeth gritted, his breath warm on your skin as you whined at the intense sensation of his hips moving, rolling up while you were struggling to even manage breathing at all. 

“Not my fault you’re so-” You couldn’t even finish, lips clamping shut as you realized you were about to stroke his ego. 

“M’so what?” He dared you to finish anyway, stalling inside you, making it obvious he wouldn’t move a muscle until you said it. 

Biting your lip as you begrudgingly murmured, “Big.” 

You were wondering who was really the pet here when it felt like you were being rewarded for good behavior after he pulled his cock out and pushed it back in, quickly picking up a steady rhythm – one that seemed specifically designed to unravel you. 

Pull you apart until you were reduced down to your basest instincts. 

Until you were like him. 

And even worse? 

It was working. 

A babble of syllables that sounded like his name falling from your mouth when he kept grinding into the soft, spongy spot in the back, pressing into it over and over again like it was a button built for breaking you down. Your sanity slowly dissolving into something he could swallow, his sharp teeth glinting when he bared them at you in a crooked smile. 

“You love me rutting into you like this, huh?” He growled, your head bobbing uselessly as his cock split you open deeper, grinding meanly into your cervix like it was his to claim. 

You did, and it, you were his, even if you sold yourself some other story to make yourself feel better. 

“A-asshole,” you groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair to try and find something to pull on, holding onto the slivers of rationality you had left by threatening to rip some of his hair out of his scalp. 

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” he half-spat out, kissing you again so you couldn’t argue with him. His tongue returning to your mouth as he thrusted up faster, fucking you so full you were pretty sure you felt him in your lungs. Whining into the kiss until he pulled back, his dark red eyes glinting in the warm yellow lighting of your bathroom as he smirked, “What would your friends think if they knew you let me fuck you like this?” 

Pushing his lips out in a dramatic pout, but you just pulled his hair harder, trying to make him wince to match the weird feeling he kept stuffing down your throat, the hint of humiliation at knowing what he was trying to imply. 

That everyone you knew would judge you for sleeping with Sukuna. Say that you shouldn’t fucking have sex with the hybrid you were literally fostering. For good reason, too. 

But how the hell were you supposed to say no when his hands felt like they fit you? 

When every ridge of his swollen cock stretched you open just right? 

“I-I don’t care,” you protested, puffing out your chest despite your sore thighs being pinned to them. Muscles aching, straining as the rubber band you were currently clinging to threatened to snap hard the longer he rutted into you. 

But then, right as his fat tip grinded up against your womb, he stopped, ignoring your irritated huff for him to continue. 

“Kuna,” you started, but before you could form another syllable, you felt it. Him. 

The base of his cock slowly ballooning, his knot trying to take hold and work its way up inside you, to lock himself in. You made some strangled noise you didn’t even know you were capable of, a guttural sound torn from the deepest part of your throat as the pressure built and soared, feeling yourself getting molded and practically reshaped by his size. 

“C’mon,” he growled, just as raw and rough as you expected from him, one of his huge hands slipping between your thighs, a calloused thumb covering your clit as he started rubbing mean circles over it. Distracting you from the fact you were being destroyed, remodeled around his cock, flames of lust licking over your sensitive bundle of nerves as he sent another set of shudders down your spine. “Don’t tell me you can’t take it.” 

You could. 

You would. 

Just as stubborn as he was, even if you were shutting your eyes and biting the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood, the pain of the stretch melting into white-hot pleasure as he began kissing your collarbone, trailing up higher until his lips were pressed against the crook just above it. 

His teeth sank into your throat, your entire body shivering under the sheer force to it, something inside you pulling tight as you gasped some broken cry of his name. But he didn’t let go. Didn’t retract. Just bit down harder, feeling you spasm and squirm around him as he held on, the knot at the base of your entrance somehow managing to inflate more. 

You dragged your nails down his back, probably shredding the skin there, leaving long scratches of your own to mark him as yours too. 

“Mine,” he growled, licking the sore spot while your brain struggled to process what was happening. What he’d just done. 

You couldn’t exactly drop him back off at the rescue when he’d made you his mate. 

Left a huge fucking hickey you’d be stuck living with, a bond forged from baths and breakfasts and boring movies. 

You knew it was a bad idea. 

But you didn’t want to break it. 

He was yours, wasn’t he? Wasn’t it only right that you were his too? 

Letting all those negative thoughts fade as you gave into how fucking good he felt, his mouth on your neck and his thumb massaging your clit and his cock filling up every crevice until you weren’t sure where you started and he ended anymore. 

“Say it,” Sukuna gruffly grunted, his thumb hesitating, knowing just how close you were and still teasing you anyway. 

“I’m your mate,” you admitted, your weak voice coming out in a whimper as he dragged you to a climax with just a harsh swipe of his thumb. White stars splotching and staining your vision, heat simmering through you as your thighs trembled, muscles begging for relief as his heavy breathing undercut the drone of the bathroom exhaust fan. 

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hissed, cumming right after you, still rubbing your clit through it, warm ropes of cum filling you up and getting plugged inside by his knot. Not even able to leak down your thighs as it held fast, your thoughts distant and dreamy as slowly floated back down to earth. 

Hesitantly meeting Sukuna’s dark eyes only to find them already focused solely on you, clouded with something that looked an awful lot like love up this close. 

“I’m staying here,” he grumbled, nose scrunching up as his tail wrapped around your leg. 

You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of him even if you wanted to. 

Now how the hell were you supposed to tell your work? 

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