porcelain.dolls

so, sukuna began to truly believe he was a human too, acted like one. he slept next to you as if you were truly husband and wife. you shared tea together, you held his many hands, and chatted his ear off despite his grumbles. however, he never showed it outright. the only time he'd ever let a crack of humanity slip through that rough exterior was in the dead of night, when he was sure you'd never wake up.

he'd slowly stroke your hair, like you were delicate flower he had managed to pluck without harming, because deep down he knew that at the end of the day no matter how much he'd tell himself otherwise? he'd still never be human, not one like you.

good things never last long to an immortal residing in a temporary world.

sukuna ryomen noticed the first cracks in your fortieth summer.

it was nothing usual at first. you were a human, and humans were frail beings.

sometimes you paused when you shouldn't have had to. you preferred to lean against his while you and him sauntered around the sprawling gardens around the shrine. you claimed to cling to his warmth, and he wanted to believe you. he wanted to believe that smile of yours, but.. the corners of your eyes crinkled deeper then before.

sukuna ryomen was no stranger to death and rot. he has watched corpses crumble to nothing and return back to the earth like that person never even existed before.

he knew what was coming. but foolishly, he pretended otherwise. maybe, just maybe if he believed hard enough, he too, could make time bend to his will, like he had with every other force on this temporary world.

the cracks spread father then he could anticipate.

your steps grew more unsteady, and he could feel the slight tremble in his form. you no longer ran out to the gardens to smell the morning dew, and bring fresh flowers into the estate just because.

on quiet evenings the two of you used to share in the gardens where you curled in his lap and talked his ear off about things insignificant to him, you began to fall asleep. gone were the days you would chat animatedly to him, the gestures, and that infuriating smile on your face that always seemed to fool him.

you were calmer, like you no longer had the energy to spare on something as trivial as talking loudly.

one of his large hands stroked the top of your head, the familiar gesture you had grown accustomed to over the years. he had now even begun doing it when you weren't asleep, which for sukuna ryomen, meant a lot.

"you've grown weak." he ruffles your hair particularly hard when the sun had finally dipped beneath the horizon, leaving only small strokes of pink and orange in an otherwise dark sky.

if he wasn't a coward, he would've said that it looked like your fleeting life, or what remained of it.

your hand, now wrinkled and heavy from a lifetime of use, went to one of his free hands.

"that's what happens when you get older, not that you would know." you sighed, smiling while you said it. that same smile that always made the corner of your eyes crinkle, but the crinkles just kept growing larger. despite the years, that same smile still made him feel something in his chest.

"you're not allowed to die." he grumbled under his breath, but sukuna never showed his face while he said it.

"everyone does, sukuna. that's how life works… and it's exactly what makes it precious." all you did was squeeze his a bit tighter, because what do you say to a man who refuses to entertain the thought of your end?

"i'll never forgive you if you do. i'll curse your spirit so you'll haunt me forever." his voice was rougher now, filled with some unspoken emotion bubbling up sukuna has no business in feeling or indulging.

his hand gripped yours tighter, the claws grazing your skin slightly, but it didn't hurt. even now, with your end nearing, he still treated you like that same delicate flower like decades ago.

"you know, not everything needs to be fought. the flowers don't fight the winter... they just accept, and bloom again the next year." your free hand rubbed his arm soothingly, as if that could lessen the blow.

this is where you were wrong, because a foolish human could never understand. everything was meant to be fought. anything could be torn apart or remolded into something he could overcome, something he could conquer.

and for the first time in sukuna ryomen's life, he finally came to learn that there is one thing that you cannot fight— time.

the last night came slowly, as more and more seasons passed, he slowly watched you wilt. from a bright and blooming flower you became... smaller.

you had more energy today then you had in years, and he finally knew your time was running out, and it was running out fast.

you turned to face him in the futon that you had shared for decades, now worn with use like everything in this estate.

"do you remember the day you first met me?" you hummed, fixing his long locks of pink hair that cascaded down his face.

"tch.. yes, of course i do." he remarked, but it lacked the usual mocking or poetic tone. he pulled you close, crushing you in his arms while his hand rubbed the top of your head.

you were different, yet all the same. you still looked at him with that same smile, the same one he fell in love with, you were still the woman he fell in love with. just now, you were more frail.

"i'm glad i loved you, sukuna." you mumbled into his chest, smiling against him. old habits die hard, even now.

for a long time, sukuna did not move. he held you in his arms, as if that was enough to keep you here, next to him, even for a while longer.

you didn't move anymore, and that warmth of yours was gone. he knew it was over.

he couldn't lie to himself anymore, that he was a human, that you would grow old with him, and he too, would eventually leave this life with you.

but monsters do not have the luxury of observing time like humans.

the realization was suffocating. it wormed its way up his throat, and his arms tightened around your lifeless body.

"even if you die..." sukuna paused, feeling something wet prick the skin on his face.

"even if you die, i'll forgive you... woman." he words came out strained. more strained then they ever had in his many years of living.

for the first time in his long, and limitless life, sukuna ryomen realized that he didn't need to be, a monster. he didn't need to be human. he just wanted to be yours, just for a season longer. he'd like to watch the flowers bloom after winter with you, just one more time.

and when spring came once again for what seemed to be one of the many he'd see time and time again?

he'd never watch the flowers bloom again.

© deartoru－do not repost my works or use my work without permission. do not feed my works into ai. pls credit me if you take inspiration.

Now, you’ve always been told that you’re a little softer than most when it comes to your inmates - which perhaps wasn’t the best quality to have when your section was filled to the brim with the most infamous of yakuza and serial criminals. But they respected you. Hell, Nanami loved to roll his eyes at this one but - you think they almost liked you.

Especially Ryomen Sukuna.

You shiver at the long, long list of crimes of his that you had to memorize in your early days - distinctly remembering the way your laptop had crashed with just how far you had to scroll. 

Honestly, you weren’t surprised that the most wanted crime boss across the globe wouldn’t get anything other than public threats and a few snarling officers that laugh smugly in his face. Though, you have had to sift out a few perfumed fan mail from time to time. 

And even before you’d started this job, you knew of him - who didn’t? 

The King of Curses, they called him. And what a king he was.

Some say he was just a crook. Others say he was a beast that seemed like he had four arms and twice the power of any normal human being. 

Right before his arrest, the Curses owned half of Japan’s revenue - he was untouchable. With his deceivingly innocent signature pink hair, those circling tattoos all across his body, and the dark, dark bloodthirst to get whatever he wanted. Whenever. And fast. 

It’d made international news when he was finally caught - only after a long, agonizing syndicate war between himself and the Six Eyes. It was your first day working here, and you were there to spy it firsthand when he was brought in. Shackles clanking along the metallic prison floor, towering well above the eight officers by his side, being hauled into that specialized cell like some animal. 

And, yet, through it all Sukuna was smiling - smiling like he knew something that everyone in this building didn’t. 

It still burns into your memory the way he’d stopped right in his tracks for the first time on his way up here, stalling for just a second. Two. Before looking right into your widened eyes, devilish grin only growing at your trembling figure.

Ryomen Sukuna had his eyes on you from the moment those handcuffs locked him in here. 

And he still did.

“Hey there, Kuna-” you’re humming after the long, tedious task of unlocking all sixteen padlocks on his heavy metal door. It clamors to a shut behind you with a deafening clang! Locked from the inside. With him. Alone. “How are we doing today?”

Sukuna was sat on the padded floor of his cell, knees brought up to his broad chest. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said he almost looked like a scolded child - had it not been for the custom-made metal cuffs that restrained him up to his very forearms. A matching leather muzzle drawn tight to cover half of his pretty face. 

He was the very epitome of all you should stay away from in this prison. 

And, yet, you find yourself walking towards him, carefully trying not to step on the hefty chains of his shackled ankles. 

It surrounds you like an iron serpent, clinking lightly when he’s raising his half-lidded eyes to look up at you. “Heh- will it reduce my sentence if I say s’better now that you’re here, brat?” 

Sukuna’s deep baritone was husky with disuse, hitching sharply at the end of his sweet little nickname for you. From what little you could make out behind the muzzle, you catch the slow, sultry curl of his plump lips. “Or should I say-” His gaze trickles down to your glinting golden badge, narrowing. “-officer.”

You’re rolling your eyes, “You and I both know we’re past all that, Sukuna.”

“Not past that enough, dontcha think?” he’s cracking his neck with a slight tilt side by side, as if he hadn’t even realized how long he’d been sitting here until you’d wandered your way inside. Cocking his head up slightly at the small glass bowl still clutched in your hands, “Somethin’ sweet from someone sweet f’me?”

“Oh-” you’re sputtering out. He knew exactly what buttons to push to tease and toy with you without even lifting a finger. “-yes, trick or treat! Since it’s Halloween I thought I might as well share the spirit.”

He’s bellowing out a husky laugh that rumbles from deep within his chest, and you have to tear your eyes away from the slight, sinful sliver of tan skin that peeks out at the jostle of his thin cotton t-shirt. 

You hated to admit it - but you almost understood exactly why Sukuna got so many fan letters that you had to throw out. A secret you’d whispered to Nanami over break and then never again after he fully ignored you for a week afterwards. 

Sukuna takes his languid time stretching out his limbs, and you get the distinctly hot feeling that he’s doing this on purpose. One eye cracked to watch your every jolt when the hem of his t-shirt raises just a bit too high, when his long, long legs nudging lightly against your feet. 

You huff, “Well, would ya like some or not? Because I can just give all of it to Mahito in the next cell-”

“Ah, you’re so damn hot when you’re mad.” he grins, and now you know he’s having fun with you. “Fuckin’ demanding, too.” 

He’s bringing up his two firmly restrained arms up to your line of vision. “And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, silly girl, but m’a little ah- preoccupied, here.”

Oh, right. 

Shit. 

It would’ve been so easy to just move your fingers over to the keys in your backpocket and unlock his handcuffs for the slightest second. So easy to shut his cocky mouth up by doing the very things he knows he won’t goad you into doing. 

But you sneak a glimpse up at the camera positioned at the very corner of the room - trained on the hunched over-figures of the two of you - as if to say, “Hey, see, Nanami?” 

“Nice try.” And you swear you hear the great Ryomen Sukuna gasp - gasp - a sharp, tiny inhale when you reach out towards the very back of his muzzle. Your fingers scratching up lightly against his silken tresses as you feel for the clasp, letting it fall to the ground in a sad pile. Soft - it’s the first thing on your mind, and the next was how unfairly attractive Sukuna looked without his muzzle. “But you’re not going anywhere.”

He just beams up at you, showing off his slightly sharpened canines. Facial tattoos almost as sinful as the darkened glint in his eyes, “Heh- as if I’d wanna go absolutely anywhere else right now.”

Before you can snap back - or more likely, make a fool out of yourself to his amusement - he cranes his neck desperately upwards. “So? Jus’ gonna stand there givin’ me a pretty view or what?”

Too soon, you’re realizing what he wants.

And too readily, you’re crouching down till you’re eye-level with his greedy gaze. Hastily unwrapping one of the candies, “Open wide.”

Sukuna only grins. “Get closer would ya? M’not a fuckin’ giraffe now, am I?”

Fuck. 

Wordlessly, you inch closer.

“Closer. These chains aren’t as long as they look y’know.”

And closer. 

“Just a bit more- I don’t bite. Promise.”

And- 

“Good girl.”

Before you know it - Sukuna has you exactly where he wants you. Losing your fragile balance to topple over into his awaiting lap, manspread, cushioning your fall. His biceps flex against his restraints, as if some second nature of his wanted to wrap those tattooed arms around your waist.

“I-” you’re gasping, palms gliding over his feeble uniform. Feeling every curve and divot along his hard front- fuck, he felt like a wall of bricks. So toned underneath that fabric, your chin rests softly on the valley between his plush pecs. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“S’perfect though, isn’t it?” he’s cutting you off, leaning in so close now that you could feel your cheeks heat with each of his feverish puffs of air. The very tip of his nose kissing yours. “Now you can reach me- honestly, why complain when life gives ya lemons, woman.”

Your breath hitches, “I…”

“So? Gonna gimme some of that sweetness?”

You’re still unsure of what’s happening. And all you can do is to wordlessly bring the sweet treat up to his lips, almost flinching when the warm softness of his lips brush up against your fingertips. 

And shit, you know what it must look like on the outside, you know that Nanami’s probably halfway through jumping out of his seat at the surveillance office already. 

But you really can’t bring yourself to think about that right now - not when Sukuna’s wrapping his rosy lips around your fingers. Eyes drooping shut slowly. Lazily. Lingering longer than necessary when his tongue swipes at the candy. 

It all but melts in your hand, and as soon as you’re about to pull back-

“Hold right there f’me now.”

You’re sure if Sukuna’s hands were freed then he’d have claimed a strong grip on your wrist already, because he was just nuzzling his face into your touch. Sighing out, “Can’t have my officer all dirty now, can I?”

His long, pink tongue comes up to just drag along your digits, making you keen at the slight scratch of his soft taste buds. One by one. Each of your fingers. Sucking, groaning. 

Smiling at you slyly, he’s dragging his tongue in between your index and your middle finger, slurping up all the sweetened candy from before. “What? Cat got yer tongue?”

“Y-you-”

“Y-y-y-you-” he mocks, baritone voice a few octaves dramatically higher than usual. Through his smirk, Sukuna bites down on the very tip of your index, making you wince at the sharp sting of his canines. “If ya got somethin’ to say then spit it out like the big girl you are.”

He’s so leeringly smug, watching back as you struggle to meet his intense gaze as if it was his favorite show. Oh, how he wants to tease you about that little good girl routine you put whenever you stop by his cell - always smiling, always in that snug uniform that made you look so irresistible, always talking to him so sweetly as if he wasn’t the king of curses himself.

Never in his life would he admit it, but it was so…cute.

And Sukuna half-expects you to jump back this very second, to throw another one of your pouts his way and scamper off back to the safety of your office. He expects you to-

“Kiss me.”

Oh. 

Fuck.

That was not what Sukuna expected - never in the hundreds of years he was sentenced to rot in this prison.

But, well, looking down at the way you were splayed out so prettily on his lap - your chin jutting forwards, hands steadied on his pecs, glossed-up lips all pursed for him - how could he ever say no?

In a split-second, he’s kissing you. 

And you’re kissing him back and fuck- is it intoxicating.

Sukuna meshes his lips against yours so slowly, savoring. Angling his head just enough to suckle on your honeyed lips, you’re feeling his hips gently buck upwards, drinking up your light groans. 

You mewl when he slides his soft tongue between your lips. And that’s when you learn that Sukuna has a tongue piercing, cold and metallic against your lips. He tastes so sweet - exactly like the artificial strawberry from the sweet earlier and-

“Hah-” you’re gasping at the soft clink! of something sweet, something hard being placed all prettily right in the middle of your tongue - the candy. Brows raising, “Isn’t that-”

“So what if it is?” he’s grunting, not letting you part too far away before sitting up even straight to surge his lips against yours. Mellow. Addicted. Sukuna just loved how sweet you were on him - even more so than that godforsaken candy. He’s craning upwards to nip lightly at your bottom lip, “Got a problem?”

You were so pliant on top of him, swiveling your hips down lazily at his question instead of answering. Over and over. And Sukuna almost finds it in himself to taunt you until you answer- before one manicured hand of yours grips his face, letting his sharp jaw slack open. 

Only giving the candy a few drippingly wet swirls inside your mouth before spitting - a thick wad of candied spit right onto Ryomen Sukuna’s tongue. Glistening against his piercing.

And he takes it. 

Surprisingly, hypnotically takes it. 

He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he mouths in that tiny piece of strawberry candy back. You hear the crunch! of it underneath his teeth, kissing you even deeper to show off how he’d swallowed every tiny shard.  

Curling his legs around your form, it’s all it takes for his gaze to drop half-lidded, chest panting - heaving - he smiles a dangerous curve of his lips against yours. 

Sharp teeth glinting against your own, he chuckles. “I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun, dontcha think, brat?”

You can only take it when he rolls his yearning hips up into yours. You feel so dizzy at the massive outline of his half-hardened cock underneath you - solid, thorough inches girthing upwards against your heated cunt. 

“But first-” His teeth bite down on your lower lip, and he pulls. “-think m’gonna hafta hah- teach ya to be a good girl f’me.”

Clang!

All of a sudden, the heavy ripping of metal rings across your dazed head - and Sukuna’s just tearing apart his durable metallic handcuffs as if they were made of nothing but paper.

“What-” you gasp rubs over where the tough restraints had rubbed his skin redly raw, oh he just basks in all your sputtering disbelief. “You could remove it- but- but that was special grade?”

“Ya really thought a pile of trash like that would keep me put? Of course, I could fuckin’ get out, don’t be silly, woman.” He quirks a slitted brow with genuine confusion - almost as if he was offended at the very thought. And before you know it, Sukuna’s throwing away the useless pieces of junk towards a nestled corner of the cell - hitting exactly on the bullseye of that damn CCTV he hated so much. Both of you watch when it topples brokenly to the ground. He hums, low and sultry, “I just hadn’t found a good ‘nough reason until now.”

Almost immediately, his hands are on you. Everywhere. Anywhere.

Coaxing such pretty whines out of you when Sukuna ravages along every inch of your body, large calloused palms kneading down your tits, your waist, grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“Ohh- this s’the life.” he groans, all ten of his thick digits squeezing and teasing you. He’s leaning down to nip lightly at your ear lobe, “Almost makes me forget what a naughty girl ya actually are.”

“I’m not-” you answer immediately, but it comes out much more breathless than you intended and both of you know that. 

“Oh yeah?” Sukuna jostles the two of you so that you’re fully laid out across his hulking body now, and you’re squirming already - desperately trying to wiggle your hips down to where he was throbbing. To glide the sopping wet place between your thighs down his rock-hard erection. For this, you’re gifted with a branding slap! on the curve of your ass, Sukuna holding you firmly in place. “Doesn’t explain why you’re already s’fuckin’ wet like a slut, my pretty baby.”

You lick up the tattoo on his chin, “But- but Kuna-”

Another needy grind - another smack.

“Now what did I jus’ fuckin’ say?” he hisses, and the primal rasp in his tone just makes you drenched. 

And Sukuna notices - of course, he notices. Drunken red eyes widening, oh, he could almost feel how fucking soaking you were through all those clothes. Too many clothes, in his opinion.

Which is why he has one hand fisting furiously at your smart uniform shirt, not a single word or apology uttered before he just shreds it right off your heaving chest.

“Oh my god-” you squeal, your hands coming up to clutch at the tatters of fabric and your badge. And your lips pout out in such a way that makes his cock just twitch, mumbling out stubbornly, “That was my new uniform-”

“S’what happens when ya get too greedy like this.” His knees raise up a bit more to rub your glissading cunt along the very curve of his fat tip. Just dragging your dripping cunt all along his bulging dick, reveling in the sticky schwf! schwf! schwf! of wet fabric. Sukuna gives an impatient tug on the fabric of your pants, “Now get rid of this before I tear that off, too.”

You couldn’t shuffle out of your belt and trousers fast enough. And oh, even that wasn’t enough for Sukuna - dazedly flinging off what remained of your shirt, your bra, before turning his eyes downwards and-

“Oh, good girl.” he whispers at the sight of you in nothing but your flimsy excuse of panties. So soaked -  translucent, even - your saturated juices making such a glossy mess at your inner thighs. He can’t help but flick at the tiny bow on your underwear, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

“K-Kuna-” you’re barely even thinking at this point, panting. “Wan’ to feel you–”

He’s tittering a breathy moan disguised as a laugh at this, bringing up a hand to cup your cheeks. “Awww, my pretty baby wants my cock?” he coos, squeezing in two of his thick fingers between your lips.

But if Sukuna was looking for an answer, then he doesn’t wait for it. 

A spit-glossed pout finds its way to his lips, mocking your own. And fuck, he was such a little tease. One hand giving your ass another slap! just to watch you whine and pretend that it didn’t make your pussy even more embarrassingly wet - shit, he was having fun. The other pulling out from inside your mouth, delicate strings of spit snap when he’s gliding his coated digits down, down, down-

“Oh-” you tuck your trembly head into the crook of his neck when Sukuna drags his thumb just across your puffed-up pussy lips. Slowly. Tantalizingly. 

“Oh?” he huffs out, licking his lips at just how steamingly wet you were inside. So ready for him. “‘Oh’ is all?” 

Sukuna plants another lingering smack on your ass, and by now you’re sure by now he’s left the bumpy imprint of all five fingers on your flesh. Tracing between your swollen folds gingerly with just the rounded tip of his finger up and down up and down. He gets greedy. 

“Damn brat-” And it’s all the warning you get before he just forces two of his fat fingers into your messily throbbing pussy. Rubbing all around your tightly quivering entrance, “S’what I get for spoiling you too much.”

There’s no hiding from the way he stretches you open so obscenely, having your sloppy hole just gaping around his digits. All wet and cozy inside.

“Oh- m-more-” you mewl. 

But he only continues rubbing saturated little circles around your teasing entrance, humming hotly against your lips. “Hmm, dunno. Think we hafta teach you some manners, silly girl.” And each of his fingers were so thick, stretching out the channel of your cunt until your mouth watered. Your body was limp, hips stuttering down softly into his hold - trying so uselessly to fuck yourself back down onto him, as if he wasn’t easily holding you still with just one beefy arm around your waist. “How about a ‘please’ first?”

You scramble to dig your nails into his bulky deltoids, tracing around his circular tattoos peeking out. “P-please!”

“Nuh uh-” he snickers. “No stutterin’”

“Please!”

Sukuna pretends to think for a few syrupy slow seconds. He nips down softly at the sensitive spots on your neck, having you trembling like a feather in his vice-like grasp. “How about a ‘pretty please’?”

And oh, he grins at the way you’re almost on the verge of tears at this point, your pouty lower lip wobbly with effort. Trying so desperately to comply with the demands of your inmate, you buck your hips so that the soft mountains on his palm graze against your clit. Whimpering, “Wh-what if I w-walked away right now, Kuna?”

“My my, resorting to threats?” he’s whispering filthily in your ear. “Now I know you’re bluffin’ woman. Because I hngh- also know-” So smug when he tugs down the soft cotton of his pants just enough to let his achy cock spring free. “That you’re gonna stay n’ beg f’me like the good girl you are.”

And you hated that he was right.

You hated that he was so big. 

Hefty girth slapping up onto his abs with a wet smack! Sukuna’s red, rounded tip was so thick that you could feel your thighs clench, swiping up a glossy glide of precum onto his t-shirt. Drip! Drip! dripping along the crevices of his veins and down to his eager balls, those tufts of pink at his base. All his solid inches winked up at you glisteningly in the harsh cell light. Just waiting. Throbbing. 

It made your mouth water. 

So you finally answer, voice strained and breaking at the very end. “I- I wan’ you really badly, Kuna.” He sucks in a breath when you bat your teary lashes up at him, “Pretty please?”

“My good girl.”

At this very moment, the only other response you get is a sensual, slow drag of his fingers out of your cunt. The exact opposite of what you wanted - because, of course, this was Ryomen Sukuna. You whine, clawing desperately at his wrist to try and reel him back.

But he doesn’t stop. Can’t stop. Almost hypnotized in the way he brings his drenched fingers up into his mouth without a second thought. Sukuna moans at the taste. A glossy trail of your messy slick forms down the corner of his slurping mouth, and he throws his head back with a guttural, “Oh fuck- s’sweeter than any of that hah- candy.”

Ah, that did it. 

Only milliseconds later, you’re being spread all flat on the floor with one swift shove of Sukuna’s big arms, panties sliding easily down your shivering thighs. It really doesn’t take much to have your dangling legs splayed out across his sculpted back, his own body shuffling down ravenously to come lips-to-lips with your puffy pussy.

And oh you can feel his smile against your dripping wet cunt, half-lidded eyes boring right up into yours. Long, pinkish tongue lolling out like he was utterly fucked - and if you angled your head just right you could see the way he was deftly spreading both of your swollen folds, the very tip of the hot muscle kissing wetly against your sloppy entrance.

“Shiiiit-” your fingers tangle themselves in his rusty pink hair. Hips jittery and bucking up drunkenly against the cool surface to chase his hot mouth. “Oh- ngh- Love havin’ your m-mouth on me- ngh-”

“Gettin’ all mouthy w’me, huh? Aren’t ya embarrassed to be absolutely ruined like this by a criminal like me?” he huffs out a bout of raspy laughter. “S’all because you decided to be a- fuck- a good- girl f’me, that’s- what.” Struggling to even get out coherent sentences because he didn’t want to part from your pretty pussy. Instead kissing all over again and again-

The bulbous metal stud of his tongue piercing thrashes up so filthily against your hot clit, coating the sensitive nub in all of his heady, swelteringly hot saliva.

And the only time you’re registering Sukuna break away just mere inches is to spit. Once. Twice. 

Thumbing across the stream of see-through spit he just grins up at you in a way you knew to be a pussydrunken expression. Glassy eyes almost drooping shut, tiny dimples cratering at the very ends of his lips, the entire lower half of his face covered in a shiny sheen of slick. Drip! Drip! Drip! right onto the middle of your shamefully spread cunt. 

“Ya got me thinkin’ I’d wanna live out my entire life sentences jus’ for a taste of this pretty pussy, woman.”

Roughly lapping with his tongue against your clit, each one pulling out crashing waves of white-hot pleasure that make you all but sob when Sukuna unabashedly adds in his fingers past your gummy hole.

“You can take it-” he hushes out uncharacteristically soothingly into your inner thighs, peppering soft, open-mouthed kisses along them. “Take ‘em f’me.”

Sukuna isn’t shy about immediately dragging his fingers along your sopping wet folds. Starting up a ruthless, simpering pace thrusting inside and out of your drooling entrance has you whining.  

“Oh.” your mouth slack-jaws open deliriously, and for the second time tonight you feel like you’re being absolutely split-apart on his thick fingers. Splaying out a hand to glide across your tummy, “You- hngh- you already feel s-so deep, Kuna.”

Your words were cracking with a whimper each time he’s delving into your gushing depths. Building you up, wringing you taut with pleasure whenever he picked up the pace. Alternating between harsh sucks on your cunt and the absolute meanest of swipes against the spongy placeholders of your sweet spots. 

“Already?” he has the audacity to cackle - cackle right in front of your teary face. “M’barely even f-fingering this pussy n’ you wanna talk about deep- lemme show ya-” He spares not even the tiniest ounce of mercy when hauling your boneless body even closer. Brows furrowing at the knocking of his chin at the very base of your cunt, the way his jaw grinded. Sukuna replaces the hand on your stomach with his own free one, guiding it up, up, up until your eyes widened and you could feel your breath tightening in your chest. 

“Here.” Drawing a burning, imaginary line about halfway through - “Here is where my cock s’gonna be so ya better get- better get ready for that, pretty baby.” Looking right in your eyes, Sukuna’s tone is laced with a vicious sort of snarl when he plows on, “Because my good girl s’gonna be able to take it.”

And you’d heard of the type or orgasms that leave you speechless, that leave you so blindsided that you don’t even realize you’re having them.

Because it takes only a few more expert tweaks of Sukuna’s lengthy fingers up against every nook and crevice of your. Scissoring, swirling - round and round until he was dredging up your dizzying orgasm. 

“Oh my god- I think I’m-” your words are garbling together pathetically, wet and as unsteady as each jolt of electricity running down your spine. “I’m-”

“Cumming.” he’s cutting through, tugging you by the thighs even closer to make out impossibly deeper with your convulsing pussy. Rolling his eyes, “I know I know, just shut up n’ cum all over my mouth would ya?”

It’s not like you could do anything else. 

And - as a little punishment - your grip tightens searingly on his scalp, just dragging your drooling pussy all over his pretty features. Letting yourself gush all down his tongue in a steady trickle while you ride him to your heart’s content. 

“Heh- getting so fuckin’- hngh- fucking greedy, aren’t ya?” he mutters out over wet slurps. Still hammering in the pads of his fingers to press up harshly into your bulging sensitive spots. “S’alright. Use me then, use me-” 

Your back arches almost painfully, vision tinging with slight black at the edges, and it’s as if you were out of control at this point. 

“Now now, what do you think you’re doin’ huh?” he feeds into each of your stuttering, slick glides down into his palm while you come down from your high. Eyes narrowing down at you, “And here I thought you were turnin’ into my- hah- g-good girl. Where are those hands going, huh?”

Shit, you didn’t even realize it at first.

Your hands are wandering so sluttily down to where his thickened base was just twitching in his lap. Aching to wrap your trembly fingers wrapping around him - struggling to even close. 

“Oh- oh my god.” your eyes widen after a few sloppy drags of your soft palm down his length. Curving it slightly to the side at the sight of another one of his signature ringed tattoos - right around his fat base. “You have another tattoo here?”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, hips rutting upwards at a sloppy staccato in synchronization with his hands and yours. “Yeah- n’ I already know you love it-” he shudders out, chest panting. “-because I can already feel just how much wetter ya got- shit-”

With all of his almost-inhuman strength, it’s almost too easy for Sukuna to drag your body downwards to his like some silly little ragdoll. 

“Kuna–” you’re dragging out in a breathy tone. Your hands shakily tugging on his t-shirt - your mind finally clear enough to realize that he was still fully clothed while you bare and fucked-out already underneath him. “Wan’ this off-”

Smack!

“Forgettin’ your place, aren’t ya, pretty baby?” he growls, but fuck did Sukuna think you looked so utterly gorgeous like this. All pouty and teary, letting out the cutest whines while you waited for him to do exactly what you said. 

And, well, he might be the notorious king of curses, the most wanted criminal in all of Japan - but that didn’t mean that Sukuna was any match for you. 

“M’only listenin’ because you were so f-fuckin’ good f’me hngh- earlier, brat.” he spits out. Hastily ridding himself of both that paper-thin t-shirt and pants - not tearing, you note with slight disgruntlement. Kissing your ass with another smack of his palm for good measure. You wince when he flicks your forehead, “So ya better not let it get to that pretty lil’ head of yours.”

But fuck, was it so difficult not to. 

Sukuna was so mouth-wateringly gorgeous, all sculpted muscle and what looked to be miles upon miles of tanned skin that you just wanted to bite into. And you realize - with a jolt - that when those other inmates rumored he had tattoos everywhere - they weren’t lying. Thick, circular rings that highlight his bulging biceps, those toned thighs as far as your eye could see. 

Now you really understood the fan mail.

Smack! Smack! Smack! 

Those drippingly wet smacks this time didn’t come from Sukuna’s hands on your ass - instead, it was from calculated, purposeful little slaps of his thick cock onto your clit.

“Heh, as much as I love to have my- ngh! my cute lil’ officer ogling me-” His hand coming up to curl around your throat, forcing you to peer downwards. “-I’d rather you look where it r-really matters, silly girl.”

He sounded so proud - barely lucid already at the very sight of your tight, glistening hole kissing up against his fat tip. 

Dragging a thumb down your wet slit to grin at the size difference even further, he purrs, “Yeah…this pussy has been givin’ me a real treat tonight. Might as well give her one back, hm?”

And he’s so big, so full that you can’t even whine out anything coherent when Sukuna sinks into your sloppy cunt inch by fucking solid inch. Pushing past that ring of feeble resistance, your pussy was greedily swallowing up every bit of his massive girth. Letting out the cutest squelches that make him moan. 

“Oh- would ya look at that?” he bares his teeth in a devilish smile. Head thrown back at how you’re already clamping and trying to milk him with your velvety walls. “Takin’ me so well, ya really are such a good girl, huh?”

Each and every hoarse little praise is panted raggedly against your ear, and your pussy slides up and down his swollen shaft in a sultry back and forth. And Sukuna just can’t tear his eyes away from the way your cunt swallows him up so greedily - so frantically like you were trying to milk something delicious out of him.

“Kuna- hngh!” your thighs quiver up and down. Hips moving in slow gyrations against how he was rummaging all inside you. “Y-you’re stretching me out so good ah-”

He’s still trying to squeeze inside, still pushing and pushing. Pressing a hand down on your stomach, “Told you I’d be right-” Bottoming out. Hard. “-here.”

Each and every juttering ram into your gooey depths have you keening, and his eyes growing even wilder. Grin curling upwards at how every kiss of the very tip of his rotund cock has your spongy cervix bouncing into him, your walls pulsing where he swipes inside. Looking for-

“Fuck!”

That. 

“Heheh- hope ya can take it, brat. Because once I start-” he presses hot peck after peck down your jaw. “I can’t stop.”

You learn very quickly that that wasn’t a threat - it was a promise. 

Every plunge into your melty pussy has you almost bawling, because Sukuna wasn’t gentle - no, he doesn’t even ease you into it. The soft curve of his head presses in so harshly against your bulging g-spot, so thoroughly in rough, wet glides. Each single hammer upwards sinking against wherever drove out the prettiest moans from your pouty lips, having you such a shaky mess underneath of him. 

Exactly how he’s  been wanting you this past year in confinement.

“W-what-” you sputter out, dragging your nails across his neck to mash your lips onto his. Tasting the candy and you and the candy- “This past year?”

Oh. Shit. 

“Heheh- did I say that out loud?” Sukuna rumbles, struggling to catch his breath while he swallows back each keened-out whimper threatening to break out from his lips. He gives your tongue a slow, tasteful suck. “Whoops- hah fuuuuck- you see what this pussy does t’me?”

He brings one large hand down to your jittery hips, the other drawing a tender stripe across your still-sensitive clit. That heavenly feeling just makes you clench, and Sukuna to throw his head back with a withering groan. “S’fuckin’ dangerous- you’re more fuckin’ dangerous than me- hah-”

You giggle at the way he was running his mouth now, sentences slurring together like he couldn’t even find the words. 

“You see this-” he pants, so sensitive that Sukuna can’t help but tuck his face into the crook of your neck. And you feel the burning flush of his cheeks, the way he brings your hand up to pat his plush pec, thumping thunderously underneath his heated skin. “-got me fuckin’ crazy here- ngh! M’on my knees for you n’ you’re all here actin’ like such a good girl.”

As he babbles, Sukuna actually falls back onto his knees. 

Dragging you right along with him to spearhead his cock vertically into your snug channel, his powerful thighs are thrusting up, up, up-

“Oh-” You’re wrapping your arms tightly around his neck when faced with another stinging smack! And this time he takes the opportunity to roll his fat thumb even deeply against your clit. “S’so-”

Sukuna’s eyes were half-lidded now, grumbling out little profanities into your mouth. “What? Can’t even speak now?” He chuckles - but it sounds higher-pitched, breathless like he was fucking losing it. “Doesn’t- ngh- doesn’t matter- this cunt is speakin’ ‘nough for the both of ya. Why dontcha act like my good girl n’ ask what she’s sayin’?”

God, your face burned with such mortification - and it’s all you can do to dart a bleary look towards that smashed CCTV camera once more. Gulping out a breathy, “Wh-what is she ah- sayin’, Kuna?” over those deafening squelch! squelch! squelches. 

He positively beams, “She’s saying…” Nipping down on your lower lip, tasting that familiar strawberry on your tongue. “-that right about now she’s gonna cum.”

And sure enough, a particularly harsh clashing glide across your g-spot has you sobbing, has you twitching - it has you cumming. Over and over all over Sukuna’s relentless cock, and not just that-

“Shit, woman.” Sukuna stares, jaw-dropped in awe at the absolute mess your overwhelmed cunt was gushing out. Coating his erratic thighs in a wet gleam of all your juices, it seeps into his skin, dripping down the curve of his legs and onto the padded floors. “Fuckin’ squirted all over me, you’re fuckin’ ah- unreal- fuck–”

If he couldn’t maintain that gruff tone of it that’s because he was genuinely in heaven. Mouth watering, achy cock twitching up into the cushiony sides of your walls once. 

Before he’s shooting such a sloppy load into your already-messed-up pussy, dumping out thick volumes of seed again and again. It sloshes in all over your insides with every quivering wave of your own orgasm, seeping out from the edges of your sopping slit. Slobbering. Overspilling. 

Sukuna grunts, feeling you shift gingerly up and down to milk each of his stringy ribbons of cum, leaving sinful dredge after dredge that paints a creamy white ring around his base. 

“Fuckin’ wastin’ it-” he’s jeering, plugging in one of his indexes into your already fully-stuffed entrance. “Better keep that shit all inside- m’not gonna let my good girl waste it, m’kay?”

“Mhm.” you nod, your drowsy body leaning heavily into his. And Sukuna wraps both his strong arms around you to just pin you to his body. “Might jus’ be the best Halloween I’ve ever had-”

“It fuckin’ better be or so help me-”

SLAM!

“Yo, King of Curses~” both of you snap your heads over to the sudden intruder that’d just crashed the bolted cell door open. He was tall, enveloped by the harsh light from behind - but you could make out those features anywhere. Any guard in this prison could. Throwing over a heavy leather jacket Sukuna’s way, “I tried to wait until your pillowtalk was over but Nanamin can only hold off the bastards on morning shift for so long. So ah chop chop, Suguru’s already waiting for us.”

Gojo Satoru.

Leader of Six Eyes, foe of Ryomen Sukuna. 

Looking at you like he wanted to positively devour you, “Or, well, if your cute lil’ officer’s coming, too, then we could continue this when we get back to the hideout. Don’t you think, sweetheart~”

And Sukuna, oh Sukuna was scowling ever so slightly at the other’s words - but he only had eyes for you. “So, whaddaya say, brat?”

---

In the hazy haven of the surveillance room, Nanami lets out a deep shudder. Head thrown back against his leather chair, he takes a few bleary moments to collect his breath. 

“Fuck…” he groans, placing that small handheld camera monitor on the table. A secret one. One that no one working in this prison building - and least of all you - knew about. All of that had been an accident, really - an unintentional part of the plan. But the way that Nanami has to drag his boxers upwards, zipping his uniform pants back up wasn’t. 

Taking a steadying gulp, he throws away that soiled tissue. Fingers punching in a few numbers on his phone, all according to his rehearsed script. “Yes, hello?” watching the monitor unwavering. Unsurprised. “We might have a situation.”

A/N. *BAM* hits you with random plottwist.

satoru’s hair is white-blond and soft-looking even now, even in sleep. his lips are parted just slightly. his breath smells like spearmint and sugar. he has glitter on his cheekbone. you don’t know if it’s yours or his.

behind you—sukuna. you can tell without turning. you can feel him. his fingers are curled just under the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your stomach like he owns the right to be there. one of his rings digs gently into your skin every time he breathes. and you don’t move. not yet.

you’re not wearing pants. or a bra. or—god. you don’t even want to check.

your glasses are nowhere to be found. your thighs are sticky. the room smells like sweat and cologne. and the longer you lie there, the more your brain starts to fill in the blanks. flashes. laughing. lights. someone’s hands on your waist. someone else’s mouth on your chest. sukuna’s voice in your ear, “you’re taking us so well, sweetheart.”

you inhale sharply. satoru stirs. the arm around your waist tightens. “you good?” he mumbles, eyes still closed, voice thick with sleep.

you don’t answer right away. your pulse is going insane. your phone is dead. your mouth is dry. and you’re lying in the bed of two boys you’ve never said more than five words to—at least not before last night.

last night.

shit.

what the hell happened last friday night?

twenty-four hours earlier, you didn’t even want to go.

you were in your room, hoodie on, glasses slipping down your nose, halfway through a 20-minute video essay you didn’t even care about when nobara kicked your door open. she didn’t knock. she never knocks. just marched in, grabbed the remote, and said, “we’re going out.”

you blinked at her. “out where?”

“party,” she said, digging through your closet like she lived there. “frat house. you’re overdue for a bad decision.”

you laughed like she was joking. she, in fact, wasn’t.

somehow you ended up in the passenger seat of her car twenty minutes later wearing a skirt you didn’t know you owned and a shirt that didn’t fully cover your bra straps. your lip gloss felt too shiny. your shoes felt too loud. and your heart wouldn’t stop trying to escape your ribcage.

you’ve been to maybe three parties since college started. all of them sucked. you usually end up nursing one drink in the corner and sneaking out before midnight. but nobara had a hand on your back the whole walk up the driveway, her voice in your ear—“just have fun, babe. don’t overthink it. be hot and nonchalant and mysterious or whatever.”

you weren’t mysterious. you were anxious. the music was too loud, the lights were too red, and everything smelled like beer and expensive body spray. you were trying to find the kitchen when you saw them.

satoru first. standing on the couch, red solo cup raised like a toast, yelling something stupid while everyone around him cheered. white shirt, chain around his neck, laugh echoing off the ceiling. he looked like he was born to be worshipped. too pretty to exist. too loud to ignore.

then sukuna—leaning against the wall, drink in hand, tattoos half-covered by a hoodie he clearly didn’t care about. not smiling. not yelling. just watching. sharp eyes scanning the room like he was already bored of everyone in it. except you.

because when you walked in—he looked straight at you. didn’t blink. didn’t look away. just tipped his chin up like he’d been waiting for you to show.

you broke eye contact first. obviously.

you tried to disappear into the crowd after that. pushed your way to the drinks table. grabbed something pink and half-melted and sweet enough to taste like nothing. you were gonna sip it and then sneak home, like always. but then someone tapped your shoulder.

you turned.

satoru. he was smiling. full force. bright as a fucking floodlight.

“hey,” he said, tipping his cup toward you. “you’re in my bio class, right?”

you nodded. he grinned wider.

“i knew i recognized those glasses.”

you blink up at him. “what?”

satoru grins like you’re the punchline of a joke he hasn’t told yet. he’s a little too close, too confident. he’s taller than you remember. shinier. and definitely not drunk—not yet.

“bio 102,” he says. “you sit three rows behind me. glasses. purple highlighter. you take notes like it's a race.”

you blink again.

“you looked up once,” he adds, “when i dropped my pen. you didn’t hand it back.”

“you didn’t ask,” you mumble.

he laughs, head tipping back like you’re the funniest thing in the room. “fuuck, you’re cute.”

you try to step around him. you really do. but his hand comes out casually, just two fingers on your wrist, not even tight—barely there. “don’t go. i was gonna ask if you wanted a drink.”

you hold up your half-finished cup.

he eyes it. “that’s not a real drink.”

“it’s pink.” (we all know what happens w satoru and the pink juice wink wink)

“exactly,” he says, like that proves his point.

you should walk away. you should say you’re here with someone, that you’re leaving soon, that you’re not good with crowds, whatever. instead, you let him guide you toward the kitchen. he doesn’t touch you again, but he keeps looking back—like he expects you to bolt.

you don’t.

he pours something clear and probably vomit-inducing into a new cup. hands it to you. nudges the rim toward your lips like he’s feeding you. you take a sip just to make him stop looking at you like that.

and that’s when you feel it. another presence.

he doesn’t speak. just moves in behind you.

you look up. it's ryomen sukuna.

you know him. everyone knows him. he doesn’t go to class but always shows up on the group project grade. he’s the one with the face tattoo, way too many facial piercings, the pinky ring, the reputation. he doesn’t flirt. he doesn’t try. he doesn’t need to.

he looks at you. not up and down—at you.

your stomach flips.

“you’re staring,” satoru says to him, grinning.

“she’s staring first,” sukuna says.

you flush.

“am not,” you murmur, mostly to your drink.

sukuna takes a sip of whatever’s in his cup. something darker. leans against the counter beside satoru like he’s always been there. doesn’t say anything else for a while, just listens as satoru keeps talking—to you, about you, near you. teasing, charming, stupid little jokes about class and how you’re “the girl who never makes eye contact but always knows the answers.”

you’re so busy trying to keep up with satoru that you almost don’t notice the way sukuna keeps watching. like he’s figuring something out.

you shift under the weight of it.

satoru notices. “you good?”

you nod.

he leans in, voice dropping like he’s letting you in on a secret. “we’re just fucking with you. you don’t have to look like we’re gonna eat you.”

you laugh, weak. “that’s not what i thought.”

but sukuna tilts his head. smirks.

“isn’t it?”

you tell yourself you’re only staying for one more drink.

but satoru hands you another cup—something golden and bubbly this time, and he makes a dumb comment about the ratio of soda to liquor like it’s a science experiment. you laugh. actually laugh. and he looks so pleased with himself you forget to be anxious for a second.

sukuna doesn’t talk much. doesn’t try to charm you. but he’s still there, sipping slow from the same cup like he’s not even trying to catch a buzz, just waiting. he leans on the counter beside you like he’s carved into it. every time someone passes by, he shifts subtly—not enough to be obvious, but enough that they don’t brush you. he doesn’t say anything about it. doesn’t say much at all. just watches you sip your drink like he’s waiting for your lips to slip on the rim.

twenty minutes pass. maybe more. you’re warm now. fuzzy at the edges. everything’s a little funnier. you say something dumb—some offhand comment about how guys like them don’t talk to girls like you—and immediately want to sink into the floor. but satoru just throws his head back and laughs like you told a great joke.

“what kind of guys are we, then?” he asks, grinning. “be specific.”

you open your mouth. close it. shrug.

he leans in, voice lower now, almost smug. “you think we’re hot.”

“i never said that.”

“you didn’t have to.”

before satoru can say anything else, comes a voice entering the kitchen you barely recognize.

“there you fuckers are.”

toji.

black tee, smug expression, red solo cup in hand and probably half a blunt tucked behind his ear. he doesn’t look tired or drunk or like he’s been searching for anyone. he looks entertained. like walking in on this exact moment was the highlight of his night.

“we’re doing spin the bottle,” he says. “living room. you’re playing. bring your little friend.”

you blink. “i—what?”

“you,” he nods at you like this is obvious. “with the glasses. you’re cute. come on.”

“she doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to,” satoru says, casually. easy smile, one hand thrown over the back of the couch like he’s just stretching.

“she’ll play,” sukuna says. and when you turn to look at him, he’s already standing.

you should say no. should stay in the kitchen and pretend you didn’t hear. but your legs are moving before you finish the thought. satoru’s already guiding you to your feet with a light touch to your waist, and toji’s halfway out the door like he knows you’ll follow.

maybe it’s the drinks. maybe it’s the way both of them look at you like you’re something shiny and new. maybe it’s the fact that your brain is no longer fully in charge of your body.

you follow.

the circle is already half-formed when you sit down—knees brushing satoru’s, shoulders tense, your cup refilled without you realizing it. the living room’s dim except for the kitchen light bleeding in and the warm orange glow from a string of fake neon signs. someone’s playing music low through a speaker, but most of the sound comes from the people—laughing, yelling, groaning dramatically at the dares.

you try to sit small, like you don’t want to take up space, but satoru flops next to you, legs spread, knee touching yours like he’s done it a hundred times. sukuna’s across the circle. still. watching. he hasn’t looked away from you since you sat down. his hand rests on his knee, thumb tapping the rim of his cup, slow. deliberate.

the bottle spins.

someone gets dared to take their shirt off. someone else gets dared to suck a shot of whipped cream off the nearest neck. the energy is climbing. looser. heavier. your skin feels too hot, your drink too sweet. you’re about to excuse yourself—bathroom or air or anything—when the bottle stops.

and it’s pointing at you.

toji grins like he’s been waiting for this all night.

“truth or dare, sweetheart?”

you freeze. you want to say truth. you should say truth. but then your eyes flick to sukuna—silent, sprawled out, the corner of his mouth twitching like he already knows what you’re going to pick.

“dare,” you say, so quietly it barely counts.

toji doesn’t even hesitate. “make out with sukuna. thirty seconds.”

you swear your soul leaves your body. the room erupts—oohs and groans and someone already pulling out their phone to record, probably. you sit frozen, wide-eyed, heart hammering so hard it makes your palms go numb. you open your mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to run—but then sukuna’s voice cuts through it all.

“you heard him,” he says, lazy and low, legs spread wide. “c’mere.”

you could say no. no one’s forcing you. the game’s stupid. you’re drunk. you don’t owe anyone anything.

but he’s looking at you like he already knows you won’t say it. like he knows your thighs are clenching just from the idea of putting your mouth on his.

and he’s right.

you crawl toward him slow, cheeks on fire, limbs not entirely steady. he doesn’t move to meet you—just watches, dark eyes hooded, waiting until you’re kneeling between his legs. someone says “time it,” and someone else shouts “go,” and then—

his hands come up to cup your face. and he kisses you.

not quite soft. not careful. but not rough either—just firm. he licks into your mouth without hesitation, like it’s his, like he’s doing you a favor letting you taste him in front of everyone. his thumb strokes your cheek as his tongue slides against yours. your head spins.

you forget about the circle. forget about the rules. the sounds. the countdown. all of it.

you melt into him like it’s instinct.

he kisses like he knows how sensitive your mouth is. like he’s testing it. like he’s trying to figure out how you’d sound with his fingers inside you, his cock rubbing slow against your soaked panties.

when his teeth catch your bottom lip, you whimper.

his thumb presses under your chin. “thirty seconds,” someone says, breathless.

he doesn’t stop right away. just drags it out one more second—one last filthy kiss, spit-slick and hot—before pulling back and wiping your lip with his thumb like he owns you now.

you’re still kneeling. still trying to catch your breath.

he looks down at you, half-lidded and smug. “better than your little library fantasies?”

you don’t answer. your thighs are shaking.

you crawl back to your seat like your legs don’t fully work, face on fire, mouth tingling. you don’t even register that satoru’s hand is already on your leg again until it squeezes.

“how you feeling, baby genius?” he whispers, leaning in close, voice brushing the shell of your ear.

you can’t think. can’t breathe.

and you haven’t even gotten to his turn yet.

you’re still trying to collect yourself when the bottle spins again.

you’re not even paying attention this time—your lips are swollen, your pulse is all over the place, and sukuna’s looking at you like he could eat you alive and wouldn’t even need a drink after. you barely register the laughter until you hear someone say it:

“satoru. skinny dip. fountain out front.”

you blink.

satoru grins like they just handed him the crown. “that’s it?”

“naked,” toji adds, lazy. “no boxers. no sneaky shit.”

“in and out,” someone else chimes. “minimum fifteen seconds.”

“you guys are so unoriginal,” satoru sighs dramatically, already standing up and peeling his shirt over his head. “and jealous.”

your brain short-circuits.

his shirt hits the floor and you immediately look away. not fast enough. his torso is unfair—clean cut, gleaming just slightly under the lights like the universe put a filter on him. someone whistles. someone else yells, “show us the dick, satoru!” and he just blows them a kiss.

“you coming?” he says, suddenly looking straight at you.

you freeze. “what?”

his smirk is a little mean. “to watch.”

the group erupts again.

your mouth opens. no sound comes out.

“she’s already wet,” sukuna mutters, loud enough for just you to hear.

you slap his arm. he doesn’t flinch. just grins into his drink.

before you can even decide what you’re doing, you’re on your feet, following satoru and half the party outside. the night air hits you like a wall—cool, loud, full of moths and porchlight and the smell of someone grilling hot dogs at midnight.

the fountain isn’t big. it’s barely a fountain. just a decorative pool of water with a little statue of a cupid pissing into it. but satoru treats it like a fucking stage. he kicks his shoes off dramatically, tosses his pants at someone filming, and then—without hesitation, drops his boxers.

someone shrieks. you’re pretty sure you stop breathing.

he’s so casual about it. like he does this every weekend. he’s smirking, fully naked, body stupidly perfect, and doesn’t even cover himself as he steps into the fountain and sinks down with a splash. water flies everywhere. someone cheers.

he doesn’t look away from you the whole time.

fifteen seconds pass. no one’s counting. he’s reclining, arms up on the stone rim, hair wet, abs glinting. like he’s posing.

he points at you.

“you’re next, baby genius.”

you nearly collapse.

you’re still standing there like your feet forgot how to work when someone yells it.

“nah, nah—she has to get in too.”

the crowd goes feral immediately. laughter, clapping, someone chanting your name even though you’re pretty sure they don’t actually know it. you feel your stomach drop straight through the concrete.

you shake your head. “i—no, i don’t—”

“c’mon,” satoru says, still lounging in the fountain like he belongs there. water dripping from his hair, eyes bright, grin lazy and dangerous. “you already came all the way out here. don’t leave me alone.”

“that’s not fair,” you say weakly.

toji laughs. “spin the bottle rules. dare’s a dare.”

you look back toward the house. then at the fountain. then at sukuna, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken—just watching you with that same heavy look, arms crossed, like he already knows how this ends.

he tilts his head and shrugs. “you don’t have to.”

your heart stutters. because he says it like he means it.

but then satoru reaches out, palm resting on the stone edge of the fountain, fingers spread. open. inviting. “only if you want to,” he adds, quieter now. “no pressure.”

everyone’s watching. waiting.

your cheeks burn. your chest feels tight. and you realize—disturbingly—that part of you wants it. wants to do the stupid thing. wants to feel reckless and hot and seen for once.

you kick off your shoes.

the cheering explodes again.

you don’t strip. you don’t have to. you step in with your clothes, heart racing, water cold as hell around your ankles, then your calves, then your thighs. you gasp involuntarily and satoru laughs.

“easy,” he says, shifting closer. “i got you.”

you wade in until you’re crouched between his knees, water lapping at your hips, the already tight skirt you came in, clinging uncomfortably. he’s still looking at you like that—like you’re the best part of the dare.

someone starts counting. ten seconds. fifteen. you lose track.

the night feels unreal. the water. the noise. the way sukuna’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second. the way satoru leans in just enough that his breath brushes your cheek.

“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“it’s kinda cold,” you lie.

he smiles. “sure.”

when the time’s up, no one says anything. no one tells you to get out. the crowd starts thinning. the attention fades. people wander inside. someone yells about shots in the kitchen. music shifts.

you’re still in the water when sukuna walks all the way out, alone now, hoodie gone, sleeves pushed up. he raises an eyebrow at the sight of you sitting in satoru’s lap like it’s normal now. like you’re not freezing and soaked and overwhelmed.

“you gonna stay out here all night?” he says, lighting a blunt with one hand.

you should say no. should get up. dry off. call a ride.

instead you look at satoru.

“my room’s closer than hers,” he says to sukuna, totally calm.

sukuna doesn’t respond. just turns, heads back inside.

and you follow. no one tells you to. you just go.

you trail dripping footprints through the hallway. past the living room. up the stairs. the music downstairs fades into something quieter.

satoru opens the door to a room that smells like laundry and cologne and something sweet—like vanilla or body lotion or both. sukuna’s already there, leaning on the dresser like he never left. he watches you walk in. watches you shiver.

you don’t know who shuts the door behind you.

but it clicks shut.

satoru’s still shirtless from the dare, only a towel wrapped around his hips. his chest glows in the warm lamplight, damp and flushed. his hair sticks to his forehead. he looks at you like he’s still in the fountain. still waiting for you to come closer.

but it’s sukuna who moves first.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t smirk. just pushes off the dresser slow, and walks toward you like he’s already seen the ending. he stops when there’s maybe a foot between you—maybe less. his eyes drop to your chest.

your shirt is soaked. you forgot. or maybe you didn’t.

the fabric sticks to your skin like a second layer. completely see-through now. your bra’s thin and pale pink and practically invisible under the water. you cross your arms over your chest without thinking.

sukuna’s eyes flick back to yours.

“don’t,” he says, low.

you freeze.

he reaches out, slow, and curls his fingers around your wrist—gentle. not forcing anything.

satoru’s behind you now. close enough to feel. he doesn’t touch you yet. just speaks, soft and teasing at your shoulder. “you’re freezing, baby. let’s get this off, yeah?”

your throat’s dry. you nod once.

sukuna lifts the hem of your shirt.

he moves slowly. peels it up, over your hips, your stomach, your ribs. the wet fabric clings, heavy, dragging across your skin like it doesn’t want to let go. your breath stutters when it passes over your chest. you feel satoru’s hand come up to help—fingertips brushing the small of your back as he eases the fabric over your head.

you’re standing in nothing but your soaked skirt and a nearly transparent bra.

you feel stripped. exposed. and somehow, still completely safe.

neither of them say anything.

sukuna drops the shirt behind him without looking. his hand stays on your waist.

“you’re shivering,” he murmurs.

“get her a towel,” he says to satoru without looking away from you.

satoru grins. “gonna warm her up yourself?”

“maybe.”

he disappears into the bathroom, and you’re left alone with sukuna in the silence. your breathing’s too loud. his hand is still on your bare waist, thumb brushing the damp curve of your skin. your eyes flick up to his mouth. he notices.

“tell me if you want to stop,” he says, voice low, eyes unreadable.

you don’t.

he doesn’t rush.

his hand is still on your waist, steady, thumb brushing in lazy strokes like he’s feeling out your heartbeat. your skin’s still damp. cold in places. your bra clings to you like an afterthought. his eyes drag down your chest, over the soft curve of your stomach, and back up to your face like he’s debating how far he wants to take this—or how long he wants to make you wait.

you can’t look away.

he leans in slow.

your breath catches. your lips part. it’s instinct—your body tipping into his before your mind can catch up. your fingers twitch at your sides. your knees feel useless.

he doesn’t kiss you right away.

he hovers.

so close you can feel the heat of his breath. the scent of his skin—smoke and soap. his hand slides up, fingers curling around the side of your neck, his thumb settling just beneath your jaw.

“you gonna let me in, baby?” he murmurs, so quiet it almost doesn’t reach you.

you nod. maybe. you think you do. you don't even know if you say it out loud.

but he hears you. he closes the distance.

his mouth presses to yours slow—lips warm, soft at first, patient. he lets it sink in, lets you feel every part of it. the weight. the heat. the way his thumb strokes your cheek just once, like you’re something precious and breakable.

then he tilts his head, kisses you again—deeper. hungrier. his tongue brushes yours, and your hands catch in the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the floor.

you make a sound into his mouth—small. desperate.

he groans low in his chest and pulls you closer by the waist, bare skin sliding against his palm, damp and warm and perfect.

you don’t even notice satoru coming back until you hear his voice, from behind you: “you guys started without me?”

you break the kiss, dizzy, flushed.

sukuna doesn’t look away from you. “we were waiting,” he says.

satoru’s already grinning.

his hair’s damp. he’s holding the towel, half-forgotten, like he only came back to see the look on your face—lips kiss-bitten, pupils wide, sukuna’s hand still wrapped firm around your waist like he hasn’t decided to let go yet.

satoru steps closer. “cute,” he says, almost to himself.

he drops the towel onto the bed and leans in, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward him with just enough pressure to make you shiver.

“can i kiss you too?” he asks, like you’re not already leaning into it. like you didn’t just gasp into sukuna’s mouth thirty seconds ago like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

you nod. shaky.

his smile softens. “good girl.”

he kisses you slower.

softer, sweeter—lips warm and plush and gentle like he’s trying to erase every thought from your head that isn’t him. his other hand ghosts over your hip, barely touching, like he’s seeing how little he has to do to make you tremble.

and god, you do.

he licks into your mouth like he has forever. groans when you arch closer without meaning to. mutters “fuck, you’re already so responsive” against your lips like it’s the best part of his night.

behind you, sukuna’s hand slips lower.

settles heavy on your hip, fingers dragging slow across the waistband of your soaked skirt before slipping it down your legs. you gasp into satoru’s mouth again. he smiles against you.

his hand moves lower too.

over your stomach. brushing the edge of your bra. not quite touching, not yet—but he’s watching your eyes flicker, your chest rise, your mouth part again like you’re already begging.

you don’t say stop. you say nothing.

you don’t remember how you got to the bed. you just remember hands.

satoru’s fingers brushing the back of your thigh. sukuna’s palm steady between your shoulder blades. the way the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and then you were down—spine meeting the sheets, breath catching in your throat like you weren’t ready, even though you were already so far gone.

satoru leans over you first. he kisses you again—deeper now. not slow. not teasing. his mouth is open and wet and needy, tongue sliding against yours with this kind of hungry sweetness that makes your head spin. he kisses you like he missed you. like this is what he’s been waiting for all night. like he’s already thinking about how you’ll sound when you fall apart.

his hand cups your cheek, cradles your jaw, thumbs at your lip when he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“you okay, baby?” he asks, voice low and thick.

you nod. can’t speak.

you feel sukuna behind him. feel the mattress shift at your side, his fingers brushing your leg.

his hand slides up the inside of your thigh, knuckles grazing your damp skin as he drags them toward your soaked panties. satoru kisses you again, just as sukuna’s fingers press against the thin fabric.

you jolt.

satoru swallows the sound.

sukuna groans right by your ear. “fuck,” he mutters, like it hurts him. “she’s soaked.”

you are. humiliatingly so. your panties cling to your cunt, useless. your hips twitch, breath shaking, and your fingers curl in the sheets before you can stop them.

sukuna rubs over the fabric once. slow.

satoru breaks the kiss to look down at your face.

“pretty girl,” he breathes, smiling. “so sensitive.”

you whimper.

you’re still kinda clothed, and yet somehow, you feel like you’re already bare. your bra clings to you, still wet. your panties stick between your legs. your thighs keep tensing on instinct, but sukuna just spreads them further with one hand, keeps his other on your pussy like it belongs there.

and then he says it.

“you ever been touched like this before?”

your whole body goes still. you can barely shake your head.

satoru’s smile goes soft. sukuna’s grip tightens.

“yeah,” sukuna says, voice low and firm. “i didn’t think so.”

you don’t even realize you’re shaking until satoru kisses your throat.

he’s smiling against your skin, like he has all the time in the world to taste you. his lips trail down to your collarbone, wet and open-mouthed, then lower, over the curve of your bra where your nipples are already peeking through the damp fabric.

he groans against you. “fuck, baby,” he murmurs, teeth grazing lightly. “you’re begging and i haven’t even touched your pretty tits yet.”

you’re not begging. not out loud. but your hips twitch with every breath. your fingers keep curling in the sheets like they’re trying to anchor you to something. and sukuna—god—sukuna’s still between your legs, eyes fixed on the way your cunt throbs through the soaked cotton like it’s a problem only he gets to solve.

his fingers hook the side of your panties. tug slow. not off. just aside.

you gasp—sharp, high. the cool air hits your pussy before he even touches you, and it’s almost too much. your thighs close on instinct.

his hand pushes them open again.

“keep ‘em spread,” he says, quiet but commanding. “you wanna be good, don’t you?”

you nod.

satoru’s already mouthing over your bra, tongue circling your nipple through the fabric, lips wet, humming like he’s so proud of you for being this worked up. then he tugs the cup down with one hand, exposes your breast fully, and sucks.

you cry out. can’t help it.

and that’s when sukuna slides two fingers through your folds. not in. not yet. just a drag, collecting your slick and groaning under his breath.

“fuck, you’re dripping,” he mutters, thumb pressing just under your clit. “you ever been this wet for anyone before?”

your head shakes. your voice breaks.

satoru kisses the top of your breast, breathless with a grin. “course she hasn’t. nobody’s ever touched her right.”

“they will now,” sukuna mutters, and then—he circles your clit with two fingers.

your back arches. your hips jerk. your mouth opens, no sound coming out. satoru keeps sucking gently on your tit, fingers curling under the other one, pinching, playing, lips dragging sweet over sensitive skin.

“you like that, sweetheart?” sukuna murmurs, pressing a little harder, teasing little circles that make your thighs tremble. “gonna let me make you cum just like this?”

you nod. voice gone. breath gone.

satoru kisses up your chest, back to your mouth, and laughs softly against your lips when you moan. “so responsive,” he breathes. “you gonna fall apart already, baby? you’re shaking so much.”

sukuna doesn’t warn you. he doesn’t have to.

his fingers are already slick with you, slow circles on your clit turning into something needier, something that makes your toes curl and your breath catch in your throat. he leans in closer, body crowding between your knees like he’s settling in for a meal, and his voice drops lower.

“breathe,” he murmurs, “gonna slip in nice and slow, alright?”

you nod. it’s instinct. desperate. like your body already knows this is happening and just wants to make it easier for you.

his middle finger pushes in first, deeper than anything you’ve ever felt. your walls clench around him immediately, like your body can’t tell if it wants more or less, and you gasp into satoru’s mouth like you’re trying to disappear inside him.

“there it is,” sukuna mutters, like he felt the second he hit your limit. “tight little pussy's never been fucked, huh?”

you shake your head.

satoru smiles against your lips. “you’re doing so good for us, baby. look at you. takin’ his finger like you were made for it.”

you’re not sure what you’re doing—moaning or whining or begging—but it spills out of you anyway. your hips lift. your thighs twitch. and then sukuna adds a second finger.

you break.

it’s too much. not in a painful way, but in a way that steals your breath. you’ve touched yourself before. you’ve fantasized, dreamed, squirmed through sheets alone in the dark—but nothing like this. nothing that makes your whole body burn and your brain go empty.

satoru’s lips find your jaw, then your throat, nipping lightly, breathing praise straight into your skin.

“you feel it?” he whispers. “feel how good he’s making you feel?”

“mhm,” you whimper, eyes wet, thighs shaking. “too good—feels too—”

“nah,” sukuna says, voice rough, “this is nothing, sweetheart. just wait till you’re stuffed full.”

his fingers curl. you jerk.

the heel of his hand grinds against your clit while he fucks you slow, deep, like he’s learning your body one stroke at a time. and he’s good at it. too good. he groans low under his breath when he feels you clench around him—“fuck, she’s pulsing”—and satoru kisses you through it again, moaning against your tongue.

“you’re gonna cum, huh?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “go on, baby. let us see what it looks like.”

your legs are shaking. your fingers dig into satoru’s shoulders. sukuna fucks you with those two perfect fingers like he owns your pussy now, like it’s his to break open and ruin. and you don’t want to stop it. you don’t even know if you can.

you cum hard. shuddering. gasping. mouth falling open against satoru’s, back arching like you’re trying to climb out of your own skin. sukuna groans low when he feels it—feels your cunt squeezing him, dripping, messy.

“fuck, that’s pretty,” he mutters.

you go boneless.

satoru laughs. “one down,” he says, brushing your hair back. “think she’s got a few more in her.”

sukuna’s still got his fingers between your legs. just there—wet and warm, two thick fingers resting inside you like a reminder of everything he just did. his palm is soaked. your thighs are trembling. and the way his thumb strokes lazy circles just beneath your clit feels like an unspoken threat. like he knows exactly how close you are to cumming again, and he’s not in a rush to let you.

satoru kisses your cheek, then your jaw, nudging your face toward his with his nose. “hey,” he murmurs. “you still with us?”

you blink up at him, dazed. “mhm,” you manage. it’s barely a sound.

he grins, all white teeth and messy hair, and presses his forehead to yours. “good,” he says. “because i’ve been waiting all night.”

you gasp softly when sukuna finally pulls his fingers out. you feel empty—needy again, even though your body’s still buzzing from the last orgasm. you don’t get a chance to complain, though, because satoru’s already shifting between your thighs, cock heavy and flushed and dragging over your inner thigh as he lines himself up.

“you’re so wet,” he whispers, voice reverent. “fuck, angel, you’re dripping for us.”

he pushes in slowly. your head tips back with a gasp, eyes fluttering. he’s thick. not just full but deep—his hips rolling forward inch by inch, spreading you open so slow it makes your toes curl. you’re already stretched from sukuna’s fingers, already wrecked, but this is different. better. more.

satoru shudders. “shit—fuck, she’s tight—”

you clutch at his forearms, hips twitching up instinctively. he sinks in the rest of the way with a soft groan, forehead still pressed to yours.

“feel that?” he whispers. “all the way inside you, baby. you’re taking me so good.”

and you are.

he starts to move. slow at first, rocking into you like he has all the time in the world. his cock drags against your walls, hits something deep that makes your breath catch, and you cling to him harder, legs spreading wider, thighs sticky against the sheets.

behind him, sukuna watches.

he’s propped on one arm, the other hand resting on your waist again—thumb stroking mindlessly, eyes glued to the place where satoru’s cock disappears inside you. “watch her face,” he mutters. “watch how she moans when you fuck her just right.”

satoru adjusts his angle and fucks in deeper.

you cry out—your back arching up into him. he grabs your thigh and presses it up against your chest, hips pressing deeper, harder, filling you to the brim. it’s almost too much. but it’s also perfect.

“you’re close again,” satoru pants. “aren’t you, baby?”

you nod frantically, unable to speak. satoru doesn’t stop. just leans down, kisses you messily, and fucks you through the second orgasm he knows is coming.

“yeah?” sukuna says behind him. “let her mouth do something.”

satoru hums. “mm, she can take you?”

“we’re about to find out.”

you blink, still dazed, as sukuna shifts beside you—kneeling just past your head now, cock thick and heavy, already flushed from watching you get split open. he doesn’t say anything at first. just lets his hand rest in your hair, fingers threading through, thumb stroking along your cheek.

“you wanna be good for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice low. “open up.”

you do.

your lips part, shaky and soft, and sukuna groans when you let him guide his cock to your mouth. he starts slow—just the head, warm and salty on your tongue, the weight of him heavy as he eases in. his hand tightens just slightly in your hair, his other hand resting over your breast, palm rough and familiar.

“fuck,” he hisses. “that’s it. keep your lips soft, just like that.”

satoru is still fucking you—slow, deep strokes that make your body jolt with every thrust. his hand is on your thigh, holding you open, thumb brushing where you’re stretched around him like he wants to memorize how you feel. and now sukuna’s in your mouth, hips rolling forward as he pushes deeper, letting you feel the weight of him on your tongue, your lips stretched wide.

“jesus,” satoru pants, watching the way your throat works around sukuna’s cock. “look at her.”

you can barely breathe—but you don’t want to stop.

sukuna groans, hips stuttering forward again, cock slick with spit as you try to take more. “fuckin’—knew you’d suck dick like this. look at you.”

his grip in your hair tightens. his hips rock a little deeper, eyes dark as he watches your mouth stretch around him, cheeks hollowed out like you want to make him lose control. and you do.

satoru slows his thrusts. not out of mercy—just to watch. his hand slides to your stomach, palm splayed out over the skin there, feeling the way you tighten every time sukuna groans. “she’s clenching on me,” he says, laughing. “you’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

sukuna’s cock slides deeper again—your nose brushing his pelvis, your throat tightening around him. he moans, sharp and low. “fuck, baby. you’re not gonna let me cum down your throat, are you?”

satoru laughs. “nah, not yet.”

he fucks into you hard enough to make your cry vibrate around sukuna’s dick. “she’s not done down here either.”

you’re still panting when sukuna slides out of your mouth, fingers brushing your cheek like he’s proud of the mess he made. your jaw aches, throat sore, but you don’t complain. not with satoru still buried inside you, hips grinding slow and deep like he’s trying to draw every last moan out of you.

then satoru pulls out.

“switch,” sukuna says, voice low and rough.

he’s already behind you by the time you blink, hand slipping beneath your stomach to help guide you over—face down, ass up, hips angled perfect as he climbs onto the bed and gets between your legs. his palm spreads across your lower back, pressing down. “stay just like that,” he mutters.

and then he’s pushing in.

you whimper, fingers fisting the sheets as sukuna bottoms out in one slow, thick stroke. your whole body jolts—his cock stretching you wider than satoru’s, deeper somehow, the burn of it curling sharp and sweet up your spine.

“fuck,” sukuna grits. “you’re tight. already stuffed full of him and still—” he cuts himself off with a groan, hips snapping forward harder.

your gasp turns into a choked moan.

and satoru? he doesn’t miss a beat.

he’s standing at the edge of the bed, lazily stroking himself as he watches sukuna fuck you. “you’re really takin’ it, huh?” he says, grinning as he brushes sweaty strands of hair from your face. “you wanna help me out too, pretty thing?”

you nod, dazed.

he steps in closer, guides your mouth open again, and you let him slide in—your lips wrapping around him just as sukuna slams forward. the thrust rocks you onto satoru’s cock, and suddenly you’re the perfect toy between them—sukuna driving into you from behind, satoru groaning as you suck him slow and messy from the front.

“jesus,” satoru hisses, voice strained. “she’s drooling all over me.”

sukuna grunts, fucking you harder now, his grip bruising at your hips. “she likes it,” he growls. “look how sloppy she’s getting. you close again, baby?”

you try to answer, but your mouth’s full—your throat clenching around satoru as tears prick the corners of your eyes. he pets your hair, soft and smug. “think that’s a yes.”

sukuna fucks you rougher, angled just right—his balls slapping wetly against your thighs, each thrust hitting deep enough to leave you shaking.

“gonna cum,” he growls. “gonna fill this pussy up.”

and you’re close too—closer than you should be, with your mouth stretched around satoru and your body trembling from the force of sukuna’s thrusts.

you don’t know which one of you finishes first. but you swear the world blanks out when you do.

sukuna’s thrusts slow. his grip bruising tight at your waist as he fucks in deep one last time—spilling into you with a low, feral groan, hips grinding as he makes sure it stays. you feel it. every pulse of it. hot and thick.

you moan, weak and breathless, around satoru’s cock.

he slides free from your mouth with a hiss, fingers dragging down your spine as he watches sukuna’s cum drip out the second he pulls back.

“holy fuck,” satoru murmurs, eyes blown wide. “look at that.”

you feel it leaking instantly. warm and slow down your inner thighs, smeared across the insides of your knees. you collapse forward with a shaky gasp, face pressing into the sheets as your legs give out. your body’s trembling. ruined.

sukuna groans behind you, dragging his fingers down the seam of your ass—spreading you just enough to watch it spill from your pussy. “fuck, baby,” he mutters. “you made a mess.”

satoru’s hand strokes your hip. “can’t believe you took us both like that,” he murmurs. “so proud of you.”

you can’t speak. can’t move. everything’s hot and slick and glowing under your skin, every nerve buzzing with aftershock.

sukuna flops back beside you, arm tucked under his head.

satoru climbs onto the mattress next, snuggling up behind your back like it’s nothing. like this is just how the night ends. like this is normal.

you’re still catching your breath when someone reaches for the blanket. and everything fades to black.

present day

you wake up warm. that’s the first thing. warm and sore and weirdly… safe. the blanket’s tangled somewhere around your knees, one of your socks is still on, and your mouth tastes like cheap vodka and lip gloss. your head’s pounding. your eyes won’t open all the way. your body aches in places you don’t even have names for. but you’re not alone.

there’s an arm around your waist. a heavy, bare thigh pressed behind yours. someone breathing against the back of your neck. slow, steady, like they’ve been asleep for hours. and in front of you—there’s another body. taller, sprawled out, hair messy, cheek smushed into the same pillow as yours. his arm is under your head like you’d been holding it.

satoru’s hair is white-blond and soft-looking even now, even in sleep. his lips are parted just slightly. his breath smells like spearmint and sugar. he has glitter on his cheekbone. you don’t know if it’s yours or his.

behind you—sukuna. you can tell without turning. you can feel him. his fingers are curled just under the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your stomach like he owns the right to be there. one of his rings digs gently into your skin every time he breathes. and you don’t move. not yet.

you’re not wearing pants. or a bra. or—god. you don’t even want to check.

your glasses are nowhere to be found. your thighs are sticky. the room smells like sweat and cologne. and the longer you lie there, the more your brain starts to fill in the blanks. flashes. laughing. lights. someone’s hands on your waist. someone else’s mouth on your chest. sukuna’s voice in your ear, “you’re taking us so well, sweetheart.”

you inhale sharply. satoru stirs. the arm around your waist tightens. “you good?” he mumbles, eyes still closed, voice thick with sleep.

you don’t answer right away. your pulse is going insane. your phone is dead. your mouth is dry. and you’re lying in the bed of two boys you’ve never said more than five words to—at least not before last night.

“hello?” satoru mumbles again, this time with a small yawn.

you nod, but it’s half-hearted. your voice cracks. “yeah.”

his eyes open slowly—bright and unfocused. they flick down, and then trail lower, past the blanket barely covering your thighs. a lazy smirk starts curling at the corner of his mouth.

“you sure?” he says. “’cause you look kinda… wrecked.”

you groan, pressing your face into the pillow. he laughs, like he already knows every thought running through your head.

“don’t bully her,” sukuna’s voice cuts in behind you. deeper. raspier. his hand spreads wider on your stomach, palm flexing just slightly. “she took us like a champ.”

you feel your entire body go hot.

“please stop talking,” you mutter, still hiding.

“but you were so loud last night,” satoru hums, like he’s just remembering. “i think i’m still hard, actually.”

you make a noise of protest—small and pitiful—and try to roll over, but sukuna’s arm tightens around your waist, holding you in place.

“don’t move,” he murmurs, low against your neck. “not done cuddling yet.”

“not done embarrassing me yet, either,” you grumble.

satoru grins. “what’s to be embarrassed about? you were kind of amazing.”

you peek out from under the pillow. “kind of?”

he tilts his head. “okay, like… very amazing. ten out of ten. would absolutely do again.”

“same,” sukuna adds, lips brushing your skin. “if she wants to, that is.”

you go quiet.

and for a second, it’s weird. real. like the whole thing might shift into something too heavy. but then satoru breaks it.

“so, like—do you want waffles or a protein bar? i’m starving. and my legs don’t work.”

you snort. “waffles, obviously.”

he grins, like it’s the best answer you could’ve given. and sukuna just hums again behind you, nosing at your hair like he’s already dozing off again.

and maybe you’re still sore. maybe your mouth still tastes like tequila and glitter and someone else’s skin.

but you don’t feel weird.

you feel—okay. and that’s somehow the scariest part of all.

perm tag list @icreamcake @sketchbonked @paintedperidot @lucacangettathisass @puppiemilks @icebearcucumber @emmaaas-posts @sxtoabi @theclosetismadeofglass