It’s already been a week since Sukuna stays at your place, and somehow, in just seven days, he’s turned it into a disaster zone.
Dirty laundry sprawls across the floor. A pile of dishes rots in the sink. The toilet is left unflushed more often than not. And once, you fall flat on your back because his stupid Crocs are in your way while you’re trying to clean the house.
That’s it. You’ve had enough of his bullshit.
You sit at the edge of the bed, biting your thumb as you scroll through anything that might help, social media, local news, job listings, nearby places. Anything. You’re desperate to find him work. Any work. Even a cleaner job, just to get this dork out of your house.
No luck.
Every listing wants a clean criminal record, and obviously, this bitch has one. Ugh.
“What got your panties in a twist?”
Sukuna’s voice comes from behind you, rough and lazy. The mattress dips as he flops down shamelessly, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He tugs your hair to get your attention. “I’m talking to ya’.”
You hiss and slap his hand away, scooting farther from him. “Trying to find a job for your lazy ass. Can’t even get one because you’re a lawbreaker.”
“Oh?” he hums, brows lifting with mild curiosity as he shifts closer and cages you in his tattooed arms. “Since when did I ask for your help?”
“Since you started producing toxic waste in my house.”
He snorts. “Hah. Funny.”
“No, it’s not.” Your voice is sharp, humorless.
Shit. He still doesn’t think you’re serious. Not when he pays the rent, the utilities. everything. Hell, he’s fucking rich.
“I’m rich.” he says, like you’ve forgotten.
“No shit. Sadly, you’re also a fucking jerk, and you need to go.”
He groans and suddenly drops his head against your back, the weight making you jolt. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest until there’s no space left between you. He tilts your chin up, bumping his forehead against yours.
“If I stop being a jerk,” he murmurs, voice low, “will you let me stay a couple more weeks? I’m still… on bad terms with my family.”
You pause. “Promise?”
“Slice me like meat if I don’t,” he smirks. “Princess promise.”
You grin, flashing a toothy smile, peck his chin, then slap his cheeks lightly before hopping off the bed. Turning back to him, you cross your arms.
“Well? What are you waiting for? There’s a lot of work you need to do if you wanna be a decent guy again.”
He snickers and stands, towering over you. Before you can react, his arms hook under your knees and he hoists you onto his shoulder.
You gasp. “Kuna!”
“Easy, madam,” he says, amused. “Gotta keep my energy up before all that work.”
The moment you step into the poor, neglected bathroom your back meets the wall instead. He lowers you just enough to wedge himself between your thighs, and before you can protest, his head is there, tongue dragging over your clothed cunt without hesitation.
You screech, “Sukuna!“ and try to push at his head but he’s strong. Too strong. He doesn’t even budge an inch.
His low, animalistic grunt tells you everything you need to know that this bathroom isn’t getting cleaned anytime soon. Not before he has you trembling against the wall, undone on his tongue.
