#plug!sukuna

your boyfriend surprises you with a trip out of town for your special day and a weekend you’ll never forget. Little does he know, you’ve got some of your own…

black fem!reader (plus sized descriptors, change if you don’t like it, just don’t tell me), drug dealer!sukuna, six year age gap between him + reader, mentions of religious trauma, she gets super spoiled + slutted out, cute/fluffy moments, reassurance + affirming, heavy sub/dom, alcohol use, heavy kissing, mentions of p!rn and mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, backshots, foot play/foot on head, choking, collaring, fingering, spit play, p+a eating, squirting, pet/degrading names, lube + baby oil use, anal, full nelson, spanking/marking, throatfucking, overstimulation, aftercare, super sweet + funny ending

wc: 12.0K

🎙️: I know it’s been a damn millennia since I’ve actually posted but I’ve def been working. I’ve realized I’m much better at long form fics and this is decently the longest one shot I have EVER written. If that’s not your taste, idk what to say. For everyone else, please enjoy.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

You couldn’t believe him sometimes…honestly, just who the hell did he think he was? Naturally, you’d expect nothing less from a man who always lived by his own code, had the world at his absolute disposal and marched to the beat of his own drum. But even so, he had no right to do…this!

“Ryo….please tell me you didn’t…”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to hear.”

“But I can’t accept this! You know that’s not right.”

“Does it look like I’ll miss it? That’s pocket change.”

(Y/N) (L/N) had just stepped out to lunch at your day job as a front desk receptionist for a pediatrics office. Oftentimes, you’d spend your hour-long respite in the break room with AirPods in your ears..listening to ambient music or whatever podcast had grabbed your attention at the moment. However, you decided to leave today. You thought it rather difficult to enjoy your caprese salad and fresh lemonade over the incessant background noise of beeping machinery and the occasional toddler who couldn’t be drowned out by lofi. But before you could even get the key into the ignition, you’d receive the notification that almost sent you into a coronary:

Ryomen Sukuna has sent you $5,000.

his reasoning? So that you didn’t have to go to work for a while!

“That should be enough to cover a week or so, right?”

“More like ten! Listen, I appreciate you, Ryo. For everything you’ve done f’r me..but I wouldn’t be okay with accepting that type of money from you. I mean, what could I possibly need with this much?”

you could think up every excuse possible and it still wouldn’t suffice. Try as you might, there was no arguing with this man and as far as he was concerned, that was yours now and what you chose to do with it was none of his concern. On the other end of the screen, you’d see a sweat glistened Ryo stepping off of some machinery; towel draped over his shoulder and a water bottle draped over his finger. He had been working out, attempting to eat better and change a few of his bad habits…where he could afford to at least..all a result of you being in his life. He finally had something worth not being so reckless for. Truth be told, his large ‘donation’ wasn’t just some off the wall, random gift. The two of you had been talking..late night after one of your much needed ‘stress relief’ sessions, about the fact that you never really celebrated any holidays or had any fun for that matter..things like Valentines Day and 4th of July cookouts were obsolete in your world. As a woman, you were supposed to find your fulfillment in being a homemaker and caregiver. Hell, even your birthday was a foreign concept! An entire day focusing on yourself when you could be tending to your husband and children as the Good Book instructed? How foolish. So you never got the chance to open gifts or celebrate your life..because the man you were arranged to marry felt the same way as your family. You’re thankful that it ended before it could get started.

however, Ryomen wasn’t concerned with your past and rather, wanted to spend every second making up for the lost time and giving you the experiences you deserved.

“I don’t know. Hell, do something nice for yourself for once. Don’t you think you’ve earned it?” The question sent pangs through your stomach because no one had ever asked you such a thing before..you didn’t necessarily feel entitled to anything. Even so, he thought that you should have the world delivered to you on a silver platter.

“Listen, your birthday is coming up, lemme take you out of town for a few days. Get a nice hotel, do some shopping..make you come a few times before breakfast—“

his words trailing off and getting interrupted by your laughing. “Ryomen!” Even so, his point still stood.

“What? All I’m saying, love, ‘s you should enjoy yourself. Life’s too goddamn short to be living for everybody else. I promise, we’ll have a good time. You trust me, right?” Peeking at you through the camera as he awaited the response. Naturally, you knew he was correct in everything he was saying. What could a few days hurt? Besides, you were certain your boss wouldn’t mind if you took a day or two.

“Of course I do..”

“Then I’ll see you tonight..enjoy the rest of your lunch break.”

but before he could end the call, (y/n) would interject with one more thing..one that would send his heart into a flurry of flutters. With those precious brown eyes, so big and beautiful..curls framing your pouty cheeks and that gorgeous smile staring back at him, you’d utter the words that had eluded him for so long with other women.

“Wait—I love you. Be safe, okay?”

plug!sukuna who seriously hated when he got an order from you. he couldn’t even be around you too long without freezing up or stuttering. sukuna. fucking. ryomen. palms sweaty and fumbling his words over some woman he barely met?

he told himself it wasn’t possible. that your first meet up where you had him in a damn trance was all a fluke. but after the third or maybe fourth, he finally just accepted that you’d had him whipped.

but now he’s losing his fucking mind. because it almost feels like you know exactly what you’re doing, and continue to do it on purpose.

“kunaa,” you happily sung out, leaning your back against his hard chest that for some reason felt so comforting. your eyes met his just like they always did, taking in every detail of him, though he wished you wouldn’t.

there you go with your stupidly gorgeous, intoxicating—no, god-sculpted fucking face. the same face that made him lose track of time daydreaming about, or download social media just to follow.

his instagram account was literally created a day after you met, when you’d asked for not only his number, but social medias too. and to this day you’re still the only person he follows.

what the hell were you doing to him.

“the fuck did i tell you about calling me that, you brat.”sukuna spat then brought the mid-size blunt to his lips, taking a long pull. the unusual tattoos coating his face never failed to catch your attention. they’re so pretty that you nearly kissed each one on the first hangout.

for a minute he swore he saw you staring at his lips, but maybe it was just the weed getting to him. sukuna’s shit is the best in the city after all, he wouldn’t be surprised. a small part of him had hope that one day you’d prove him wrong though.

maybe one day you would have enough courage for the both of you, and put those soft-pretty lips onto his so he could melt into you.

or was that asking for too much?

“don’t care! i don’t wanna call you what everyone else does, that’s so boringg.” you grabbed his hand now, twisting the chunky rings he had to face the right way.

now this is a dangerous game you were playing… sukuna wanted to just jump on you the moment he felt your gentle touch. dumbass nearly dropped the blunt too cause he was genuinely shaking for a minute.

and when your hands grazed his neck, he actually did drop it— but he was too dazed to remember how he saved it.

you straightened his chains to perfection while he stared at you in awe, holding the joint to your lips now. you took a pull, then blew it out just as quick. “when you get jewelry make sure it’s perfectly straight. makes it look cleaner!”

the man just stared at you with low eyes cause he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. he was actually still feeling the zaps of every place you’d touched him in, even if it was just a brush.

“nah that’s not really my thing,” you could’ve swore you saw him smile but sukuna never smiled so maybe you were hallucinating. “think i might need someone to do it for me, always.”

your stomach fluttered because you got what he was implying, but it confused you more than anything. “id have to be around you like all the time.. chains never stay straight.”

to that he shrugged before grabbing your leg and lettingg your feet rest on him now. all he could think was he definitely had the best gas if it was making you two do shit like this.

“yeah. if you were anyone else things would be a lot different..” sukuna let out a low chuckle, more to himself than anything.

“but it’s you, and i wouldn’t even mind being the last person on earth with you so… i actually think you should start being around me all the time.”

Plug!Sukuna helping you ride your first high.

MDNI; +18, f!reader, 4k part 1, part 2

*found a new obsession for stoner/dealer Sukuna:]*

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The frat house pulses with bodies and heat and the kind of reckless energy that only came from too much alcohol and too little supervision. You shouldn't have come. You knew that the moment you walked through the door and saw him, your ex, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arm around some blonde you'd never seen before.

Your stomach twisted, and you turned away before he could notice you staring.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing through the crowd toward the living room. ‘Of course he's here. Of course he brought someone new. Why did I think coming here was a good idea?’

You needed something, anything, to take the edge off, to make this night bearable.

That's when you saw him.

Sukuna.

Everyone knew Sukuna. He was a fixture at these parties, always lounging somewhere with that infuriatingly confident smirk, like he owned the place. Maybe he was a student here—at least you thought? No one really knew. What everyone did know was that if you wanted something to make the night more interesting, Sukuna was your guy.

He was sprawled on the couch in the corner of the living room, one arm draped over the back, legs spread wide in a posture that screamed arrogance. His pink hair caught the strobing lights, and those dark tattoos snaking up his arms and neck made him look dangerous in a way that should've been a warning. His eyes scanned the room with lazy amusement, like he was watching a show put on specifically for his entertainment.

You'd never bought from him before. Never bought from anyone, actually. But tonight felt different. Tonight, you needed an escape.

‘Just go talk to him. It's not that hard. People do this all the time.’

Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to him, weaving through the crowd. Your heart hammered against your ribs. As you approached, his gaze slid to you, and one eyebrow arched in interest.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice a low rumble that somehow cut through the music. "Don't think I've seen you around my corner of the party before."

You stopped in front of him, suddenly very aware of how out of your depth you were. "Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, right?"

His smirk widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. "That depends. What brings you to my corner? You don't look like my usual people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, placing an arm on your hip, leaning into it.

"Means you look nervous as hell," he said, leaning back and studying you with those unsettling eyes. "Like a rabbit that just wandered into a wolf's den."

"I'm not nervous," you lied, and his grin told you he knew it was bullshit. "I just... I heard you could help me out with something."

"Help you out?" He leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Gonna have to be more specific than that, sweetheart. I help people out with lots of things."

Heat crept up to your cheeks. God, why was he making this so difficult? "I want to buy something. You know, to... to relax."

"To relax," he repeated, his tone mocking. "That's cute, real specific."

"To get high," you said, a little too loudly. A couple of people nearby glanced over, and you lowered your voice, leaning in closer. "I want to get high. Is that specific enough for you?"

Sukuna laughed—a rich, mocking sound that made you want to either punch him or crawl into a hole. "First time, huh? I can always tell. You've got that adorable deer-in-the-headlights look going on. Plus, you're way too uptight."

"I'm not uptight," you snapped. "And maybe I wouldn't be so fidgety if you weren't being such an ass about it."

"Oh, I like you," he said, his eyes lighting up with genuine amusement. "Got some bite to you. Most first-timers just stammer and hand me money. You're actually talking back."

"Should I not be?" you asked, suddenly uncertain.

"Nah, it's refreshing," he said, patting the couch cushion next to him. "Sit down. Let's chat before we get down to business."

"A chat? I just want to buy—"

"Sit," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I don't sell to people I don't talk to first. Call it a… personality quirk."

You hesitated, glancing back toward the kitchen where your ex was still wrapped around that blonde. The sight made your chest tighten.

‘Fuck it.’

Against your better judgment, you sat. The couch was worn and sagged in the middle, forcing you closer to him than you'd intended. He smelled like smoke and something spicy—cologne, maybe, or just the natural scent of someone who didn't give a fuck about anything.

“Attagirl.” He grinned watching you sink into the couch.

"So," he started, "What's the problem of the day? And don't tell me you just want to 'relax.' Everyone who comes to me is running from something."

"That's pretty presumptuous," you said, trying to sound casual. "Maybe I just want to have a good time."

"Bullshit." His gaze flicked past you, toward the kitchen, and his smirk turned knowing. "Let me guess. Bad grade? Shitty parents? Or—" He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "Ex-boyfriend?"

You followed his line of sight and saw your ex still wrapped around that blonde, his hand sliding down her back in a way that was all too familiar. Your jaw tightened, and you looked away quickly.

"Bingo," Sukuna said with a chuckle, his tongue curving at the top of his palate with amusement, a silver flash catching your eyes.

"Thought so. You've got that look. Like someone just kicked your puppy."

"He's not—it's not like that," you said, but even you could hear how weak it sounded.

"Sure it's not," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you're over here trying to buy drugs from a stranger instead of enjoying the party."

"You know what? Maybe this was a mistake," you said, starting to stand.

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist and pulling you back down. "Hey, relax. I'm just messing with you. Sit down. Let's get you sorted."

You sat, more because his grip was firm than because you wanted to. "You're kind of an asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've been told," he said, releasing your wrist. "But I'm an asshole who's about to make your night a lot better, so maybe cut me some slack yeah?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fine. What do you have?"

"Depends on what you're looking for," he said, pulling a small tin from his pocket and opening it to reveal an assortment of pills, small bags, and pre-rolled joints.

"Weed's the classic. Mellow, easy to handle, especially for a first-timer. Pills if you want something stronger, but I wouldn't recommend it for your first rodeo. And I've got some coke if you're feeling adventurous, but—" He looked you up and down. "Yeah, let’s skip the coke."

"How do you know what I'm ready for?" you challenged.

"Because you're sitting here arguing with me instead of just buying and leaving," he said with a smirk. "You're nervous. You don't know what you're doing, trust me, sweetheart, you want to start with weed."

You hated that he was right. "Okay. Weed. What do I do with it?"

"Well, you smoke it," he said, pulling out a pre-rolled joint and holding it up. "This is a joint. You light it, you inhale–"

"I know what a joint is," you said, rolling your eyes. "I'm not completely clueless."

"Could've fooled me," he said, and you shot him a glare. "Alright, alright. Twenty bucks, and I'll even walk you through it since you're so adorably lost."

"I'm not adorably anything," you muttered, fumbling for your wallet and pulling out a crumpled twenty. You handed it over, and he pocketed it smoothly.

"So," you said, eyeing the joint in his hand. "Do I just... take it and go?"

"You could," he said, twirling it between his fingers. "But I don't recommend it. First time smoking, you're probably gonna cough your lungs out and waste half of my product. Plus, you might take too much and freak yourself out."

"So what do you suggest?" you asked, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt.

"I suggest," he said, leaning back and draping his arm over the back of the couch, "that you let me supervise. Make sure you don't do anything stupid."

You narrowed your eyes. "And what do you get out of that?"

"Entertainment," he said with a shrug. "Like I said, I've got nothing better to do right now., so humour me will you?"

You glanced around the room, at the people dancing and drinking and making out in corners. Your ex was still in the kitchen, laughing at something the blonde said.

‘Fuck him. Fuck this whole night.’

"Fine," you said, turning back to Sukuna. "But if you're just doing this to mess with me—"

"Relax," he said, producing a lighter from his pocket. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not gonna fuck with someone's first high. That's just bad business."

He lit the joint with practiced ease, the flame casting flickering shadows across his face. He took a slow drag, his eyes never leaving yours, and you found yourself mesmerized by the way his lips wrapped around it. He held it for a moment, then exhaled a plume of smoke that curled between you like something alive.

"Your turn," he said, holding it out.

You took it carefully, hyper-aware of the way his fingers brushed yours. The joint was still warm from his mouth, and something about that felt oddly intimate.

"Okay, so," he said, shifting closer. "You're gonna inhale, but not too much, small puff. You're not trying to impress anyone."

"Got it," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you intended.

You brought the joint to your lips, feeling the heat of it, and inhaled. Immediately, you knew you'd done it wrong. The smoke hit your lungs like fire, harsh and burning, and you jerked back, coughing violently.

Sukuna laughed and patted your back with exaggerated sympathy. "Easy, tiger. What did I just say? Small puffs."

"Fuck you," you wheezed, your eyes watering. "That burned like hell."

"Yeah, it does that," he said, still grinning. "You'll get used to it. Try again."

"Maybe I don't want to try again," you said, but you were already reaching for the joint.

"That's the spirit," he said, handing it back. "Smaller this time. Think of it like sipping, not chugging."

You tried again, this time taking a much smaller drag. "There you go," Sukuna said, nodding approvingly. "See? Not so hard. How's it feel?"

"Like I just inhaled a campfire," you said, your throat raw.

"Give it a minute," he said, taking the joint back and taking another hit. "It gets better."

You watched as he smoked, the way he made it look effortless. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Long enough," he said, exhaling slowly.

"So this is, what, your job?" you asked.

"One of them," he said with a shrug. "I do other shit too. But this pays better.” He scans your body.

"Your turn."

This time, you took a drag without being told, and it went down smoother. You exhaled, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling, and felt a strange sense of accomplishment.

"Not bad," Sukuna said. "You're a quick learner."

"Thanks, I guess," you said, passing it back.

The two of you fell into a rhythm—passing the joint back and forth, the silence between you growing more comfortable. Around you, the party continued, people dancing and laughing and shouting over the music, but it all started to feel distant, like you were in a bubble with just him.

"So," Sukuna said after a while, his voice lower now. "You gonna tell me about the ex, or are we just gonna pretend that's not why you're here?"

You groaned. "Do we have to talk about him?"

"We don't have to do anything," he said. "But you're clearly still hung up on him.”

"I'm not hung up on him," you said defensively. "I'm just... annoyed that he's here. With her."

"Uh-huh," Sukuna said, clearly not buying it. "How long's it been?"

"Two weeks," you admitted.

"Two weeks?" He let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's fresh. No wonder you're a mess."

"I'm not a mess," you said, but your voice cracked slightly.

"Sure you're not," he said, passing you the joint again. "Here. This'll help."

You took another drag, longer this time, and felt the smoke settle into your lungs. When you exhaled, something in your chest loosened, just a little.

"He's an asshole," you said suddenly. "He broke up with me over text. Said he 'needed space to figure himself out.' And now he's here, two weeks later, with someone new."

"You're better off without him."

"Everyone keeps saying that," you said, taking another hit. "But it doesn't make it hurt less."

"No," Sukuna agreed. "But this does."

He was right. With each drag, the sharp edges of your hurt were softening, blurring. The music sounded better now, fuller, and the lights seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat. You felt... lighter. Like someone had untied a knot in your chest that you hadn't even realized was there.

"Feeling it yet?" Sukuna asked, watching you with those sharp eyes.

"I... yeah," you said slowly, looking down at your hands. They felt strange, like they belonged to someone else. "Everything feels kind of... floaty?"

"You're officially high. Congrats."

"Is it supposed to feel like this?" you asked, flexing your fingers experimentally. "Like everything's moving slower?"

"Yeah, that's normal," he said. "Just go with it, don't fight it."

You nodded, leaning back against the couch. The cushions felt impossibly soft, like you were sinking into a cloud. "This is... weird, but not bad weird, good weird."

"Told you," he said, and you could hear the smugness in his voice.

"Don't be smug," you said, but you were smiling now, and you couldn't quite remember why you'd been so upset before.

"Can't help it," he said, shifting closer. His thigh pressed against yours, warm and solid, and you became acutely aware of every point of contact between you. "You're cute when you're high. All relaxed. Not so tense." The arm that was hanging behind the couch suddenly found thri way around your shoulders.

"I wasn't tense," you protested, but even you could hear how weak it sounded.

"You were," he said, his other hand landing on your knee. The touch was casual, almost absent-minded, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you that had nothing to do with the weed. "But you're loosening up now."

You looked down at his hand, at the way his fingers splayed across your knee, and felt your breath catch. "Sukuna..."

"Hmm?" His thumb traced a slow circle on your knee, and you found yourself mesmerized by the movement. When had his hand gotten so close to your thigh?

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

"Nothing," he said innocently, but his smirk told a different story. "Just sitting here. Why? Does it bother you?"

"I didn't say that," you said quickly. Too quickly.

"No, you didn't," he agreed, his hand sliding a fraction higher. "So what are you saying?"

Your brain felt fuzzy, thoughts moving like molasses. The weed had made everything feel better—the warmth of his hand, the way his eyes were locked on yours, the sudden awareness of how close he was.

"Well I..," you admitted. "can't think straight."

"That's kind of the point," he said, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against your ear, and you shivered. "You're thinking too much. Just feel."

"Feel what?" you whispered.

"All of it," he hummed, his hand sliding higher up your thigh.

Your heart was racing now, pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. "Sukuna, I—" He pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, intense, and you felt pinned under his gaze. "You want me to stop?"

Did you? You should. This was crazy. You'd just met him, just bought drugs from him, and now he was touching you in a room full of people and you were letting him and—

"No," you breathed, and his smirk widened.

"Good girl," he said, and the praise sent goosebumps running across your skin. "I noticed you when you walked in, you know. Watching you watch me. Watching you try not to look at me."

"I wasn't—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Sure," he said, his hand moving higher still, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh. "I always notice when someone's watching me. Especially when they look at me the way you do."

"And how's that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Like you want me to ruin you," he said, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your breath hitched, and you felt heat pooling low. The weed had made everything feel more intense, every touch electric, and you were acutely aware of how much you wanted him to keep touching you.

"What if someone sees?" you whispered, glancing around the room. There were people everywhere, dancing, talking, drinking. Anyone could look over and see his hand on your thigh, see the way you were leaning into him.

"Let them see that you're not thinking about that asshole anymore. That you're too busy with me."

Before you could respond, his hand cupped your jaw, turning your face toward his. His eyes searched yours for just a moment, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was nothing like you expected. It wasn't gentle or tentative. It was demanding, his mouth moving against yours with a confidence that made your head spin even more than the high you were already on. His lips were soft but insistent, and when his tongue traced the seam of your mouth, you opened for him without thinking.

The taste of him, smoke and something darker, more intoxicating—flooded your senses. His tongue slid against yours, the ball of the silver jewelry clicking on your teeth, you made a sound in the back of your throat that should have embarrassed you but didn't. Everything felt too good, too intense. The weed had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only want.

His hand tightened on your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss, and his other hand slid higher up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, his lips curving into a smirk even as he kissed you.

'This is insane. You're making out with your drug dealer at a party where your ex can see. This is—'

But the thought dissolved as Sukuna's teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue. Your hands, which had been frozen at your sides, finally moved, one clutching at his shirt and the other sliding up to tangle in his pink hair. It was softer than you expected, and when you tugged experimentally, he groaned into your mouth—a deep, guttural sound that made heat pool between your legs.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and his breathing was as ragged as yours. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," you sighed out, your brain still foggy from the kiss and the weed.

"You kiss like you've been thinking about it," he said, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip.

"Maybe I have," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. The weed had loosened your tongue, made you brave in a way you normally weren't.

His smirk widened. "Yeah? How long?"

"Since I sat down," you said, and it was true. From the moment you'd gotten close to him, felt the heat of his body, caught that spicy scent, you'd been wondering what it would be like to battle tongues with him.

"Should've said something sooner," he said, and then he was going in again, harder this time, more urgent.

His hand left your jaw to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you in place as his mouth moved against yours. The other hand on your thigh slid higher, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt, and you arched into him without meaning to.

The couch, the party, the people around you—it all faded into background noise. There was only him, only this. His mouth on yours, his hands on your body, the way he was touching you like he had every right to, like you belonged to him.

You shifted closer, climbing into his lap, and he made an approving sound, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of him seeping through your clothes, and when your hips rolled against hisyou felt the hard length of him pressing against you.

"Careful," he warned, his voice rough. "Keep doing that and I'm not gonna be responsible for what happens next." You just hummed at his statement, almost challenging him.

He pulled back to look at you, his eyes searching your face. "You're high."

"So are you," you pointed out.

"Yeah, but I know what I'm doing," he said. "You sure about this?"

Were you? Your head was spinning, your body felt like it was on fire, and every nerve ending was screaming for more of his touch. You'd never felt like this before, so desperate, so needy. Was it the weed? Was it him? Did it matter?

"I'm sure," you said, and to prove it, you kissed him again.

This time, he didn't hold back. His hands were everywhere—sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts through your shirt, squeezing your ass and pulling you harder against him. You gasped into his mouth, your hips grinding down, and he groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Fuck— you feel so good," he muttered against your lips. "—we can't do this here."

"Why not?" you asked, too far gone to care about propriety.

"Because when I fuck you," he said, his voice low and filthy, "I don't want an audience."

The words sent a jolt of pure lust through you, and you whimpered, actually whimpered—making him chuckle darkly.

"Come on," he said, pulling back and standing up, his hand wrapping around your wrist. "Let's find somewhere more private."

You let him pull you to your feet, your legs unsteady beneath you. The room tilted slightly, and you grabbed onto his arm for balance. Everything felt surreal, like you were moving through a dream. The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and your body felt hypersensitive, every brush of fabric against your skin almost overwhelming.

Sukuna led you through the crowd, his grip on your wrist firm and possessive. People moved out of his way automatically, and you caught a few curious glances, a few knowing smirks. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that your ex might see you leaving with Sukuna, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

'Good, let him see, let him know I'm not sitting around crying over him.'

Sukuna pulled you down a hallway, trying a few doors before finding one that opened—a bathroom. He pulled you inside and locked the door behind you, and suddenly the noise of the party was muffled, distant.

The bathroom was small, cramped, with a sink, a toilet, and barely enough room for two people. The fluorescent light was dimmed, a shade of purple coming through almost unflattering, but when Sukuna turned to looks at you, his eyes dark with want, you didn't care.

"Come here," he said, and you went to him like you were magnetized.

His hands were on you immediately, sliding under your shirt, his palms hot against your skin. You gasped, arching into his touch, and he backed you up against the sink, helping you onto it, his mouth finding yours again. This kiss was different—messier, more desperate. His teeth scraped against your lip, his tongue delving deep, and you met him with equal fervor, your hands fumbling with his shirt.

"Impatient," he murmured against your mouth, but he didn't stop you. He helped you, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it aside, and then his hands were back on you, pulling your shirt over your head.

The cool air hit your heated skin, and you shivered, suddenly very aware of how exposed you were. But Sukuna was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger.

"Fuck, look at you," he said, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You moaned, your head falling back against the mirror, and he took advantage, his mouth trailing down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there.

"Sukuna," you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders. "Please—"

"Please what?" he asked, his voice muffled against your skin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want—" You broke off with a moan as his teeth scraped over your collarbone. "I want you to touch me."

"Hm, but I’m already touching you," he said, his hands sliding down your sides, over your hips. “you’re gonna have to be more precise.”

"More," you begged, past the point of pride. "I need more."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

Before you could respond, he dropped to his knees in front of you, and your breath caught in your throat. He looked up at you, his eyes wicked, and slowly—so slowly it was almost torture—he slid his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt up as he went.

"These," he said, his fingers tracing the edge of your panties, "need to come off."

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and he hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down. You got down the sink and stepped out of them, your heels clicking against the tile floor, and he tossed them aside carelessly.

"Keep the heels on," he said, his hands sliding back up your legs. "I like them." He pushes you back up onto the sink.

You nodded again, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest. The weed had made everything feel heightened, every touch electric, and when his fingers brushed against your inner thigh, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

"Relax," he hummed, his breath hot against your skin. "I've got you."

And then his mouth was on you, and you forgot how to breathe.

The first touch of his tongue was almost too much, a cool metal sensation sending a wave of electricity as it touched your nob. You cried out, your hands flying to his hair, and he groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. He licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your center, the ball of his tongue piercing adding that extra pressure.

"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the mirror. "Oh my god."

He didn't respond, too busy devouring you like a man starved. His tongue moved with expert precision, circling your clit before dipping lower, and you were making sounds you'd never made before—high, desperate whimpers that should have embarrassed you but didn't.

Everything felt too intense, too good. The high had stripped away your ability to think, leaving only sensation. The wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against your inner thighs, the way his fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Sukuna," you moaned, your hips rolling against his face. "Please, I—"

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. "You taste so fucking good," he said, his voice rough. "Could do this all night."

"Don't stop," you begged, and he smirked.

He dove back in, his tongue working you with renewed fervor, and then you felt his fingers at your entrance, teasing. He slid one inside slowly, and you gasped at the intrusion, your walls clenching around him.

"So tight," he muttered against you, adding a second finger and curling them just right. "Fuck, you're perfect."

The combination of his mouth and his fingers was overwhelming. He pumped them in and out, fingers spreading inside of you to get a better feel of your insides, his tongue never stopping its assault on your clit, and you felt the tension building low in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter.

"I'm—" you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair. "I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice muffled but firm. "Let me feel it."

His fingers curled again, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, and his tongue flicked over your clit one more time, and you shattered.

The orgasm hit you like a bus, crashing over you with an intensity that stole your breath. Your legs shook, your vision went white, you probably would’ve fallen off the sink if it wasn’t for him holding you in place. You cried out his name, your body convulsing, and he worked you through it, his fingers and tongue never stopping until you were trembling.

Finally, he pulled back, his fingers sliding out of you, and he looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. His lips were swollen, his chin wet, and he looked absolutely debauched.

"Beautiful," he said, standing up and pulling you into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it should have been weird but it wasn't—it was hot, filthy, perfect.

"That was—" you started, but you couldn't find the words. Your brain was mush, your body still trembling with aftershocks.

"Just getting started," he said, his hands sliding down to cup your ass. "Think you can handle more?"

You looked up at him, at the hunger still burning in his eyes, and felt a fresh wave of desire wash over you despite the orgasm still thrumming through your veins.

"Yes," you breathed, reaching for him.

But he stepped back with that infuriating smirk, leaving you cold and wanting. "Easy sweetheart— gotta keep some for next time." You looked at him with glossy eyes.

"Next time?" you asked, your voice still shaky.

"mhm," he hummed, grabbing some toilet paper and gently cleaning you up with surprising tenderness. His touch was careful now, almost reverent, and it made your heart do backflips in your chest. "Can't give you everything in one night. Where's the fun in that?"

He helped you step back into your panties, his fingers trailing up your legs slowly, deliberately, before smoothing your skirt back down. Then he retrieved your shirt from where it had been tossed, holding it out for you.

"Arms up," he instructed, and you obeyed, letting him dress you like you were his little doll. Once you were decent again, he grabbed his own shirt and shrugged it on.

You caught sight of yourself in the mirror—lips swollen, hair messed up, eyes still glazed—and tried to fix your appearance with shaky hands. He watched you with amusement, leaning against the door.

"You look thoroughly fucked," he observed. "Can’t wait to see your ex’s face when he sees you."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "Sukuna—"

"What?," he interrupted, pushing off the door and crowding into your space one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "Want everyone to know you're Sukuna’s property now."

"Your—property?" you whispered, your heart hammering.

"Yeah," he said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "At least for the foreseeable future. You got a problem with that?"

You should. You barely knew him. But the possessiveness in his voice made something warm and liquid pool in your lower region all over again.

"No," you admitted.

"That's what I thought," he said, pressing one more kiss to your lips—softer this time, almost sweet. "Tell you what. Next party, come find me. I'll give you a discount. Half off."

"Half off?" you repeated, trying to make your brain work properly.

"Mhm," he hummed, his lips curving against yours. "Consider it a loyalty program. Keep coming back to me, and I'll keep taking care of you." His hand slid down to squeeze your ass once more. "In every way."

The implication was clear, and it sent electricity through you.

"And if I don't come back?" you asked, testing him.

His eyes darkened, and his grip on your jaw tightened just slightly. "You will. You'll be back, they always come back."

The arrogance should have annoyed you, but he was probably right. You were already thinking about the next party, about finding him again, about what "more" might entail.

"Confident, aren't you?" you said, trying to sound unaffected.

"I've got reason to be," he said, releasing you and unlocking the bathroom door. "See you next time, sweetheart. And don't forget—you're Sukuna’s property. Don't let me catch you with anyone else."

Before you could respond, he was gone, slipping out of the bathroom and disappearing back into the party like nothing had happened.

You stood there for a moment, your legs still weak, your body still humming with satisfaction, and touched your lips where you could still feel the ghost of his kiss.

'What the hell just happened?'

But even as you asked yourself the question, you were already counting down the days until the next party, enjoying that extra deal you got to make.

————————————————————

it’s hot in here

what if, a sneaky lil part 2?

One Step Heavy and Two Steps High...

ᯓ➤college smau hitting up plug!jjk for the first time.. multi character.. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shoko, choso.

ᯓ➤WARNINGS.. mild flirting, plug talk?, use of drugs..

ᯓ➤ because of the faulty experience you have had with your last few "plugs" your friend gives you the number of a friend of theirs who deals in their spare time. it's worth a shot right..

++ 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠😭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐠!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝟑𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢

I never even considered their apartment having a pool but that would be so funny. Imagine Yuuji keeps calling to be like I can't find it and every time I ask someone where it is they don't know what I'm talking about or they just laugh at me!!!

plug!Kuna x plug!Choso x f!Reader

{of course the dealer came with a supplier} threesome

MDNI, 18+, 10.5k, rough draftish (going through it again but I really wanted to post it)

Part 2 of this Part 1

—————————————————————————

A week's worth of anticipation coiled tight in your chest. You'd told yourself you were only coming back for the discount. Half off. That's what he'd promised, right?

You pushed through the crowd, scanning for pink hair and tattoos, and you found him exactly where you expected, sprawled on that same corner couch like he owned the place.

But this time, he wasn't alone, your stomach dropped.

There was a girl sitting next to him, laughing at something he'd said, her hand resting on his thigh like it belonged there. On his other side, a guy with shaggy hair leaned in close, hanging on Sukuna's every word. And Sukuna—god, Sukuna was in his element. That same lazy confidence, that same devastating smirk, the way his eyes focused on whoever was speaking like they were the only person in the world, anyone could’ve been fooled by it.

The exact same way he'd looked at you when you were resting all your issues to him.

Your chest tightened, something hot and uncomfortable twisting in your gut. You watched as he leaned toward the girl, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the same he'd used on you. The girl giggled, pressing closer, and the guy said something that made Sukuna laugh, that deep, rich sound that had made your knees weak seven days ago.

‘Oh.’

It hit you all at once, when he'd called you his property, when he'd said you belonged to him—he'd meant it the same way a store owner means it about their customers. You weren't special, you were just another transaction, another person to add to his collection of people he could toy with for his own satisfaction.

‘Property. Right. His property. Along with everyone else.’

The realization should have made you turn around and leave, should have killed whatever stupid hope had been building in your chest all week. But instead, it just made you angry at him for being exactly what you obviously knew he was, and at yourself for falling for it anyways, thinking he actually cared about your boy issues.

‘Get your weed and get out. That's all you're here for.’

You forced your expression into something neutral and made your way over. As you got closer, you noticed another guy sitting in a chair next to the couch, dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, calm eyes with either heavy bags or smeared makeup, a harsh line crossing his nose bridge which contrasted so well with the silver jewelry from his pierced lip, an almost serene expression that contrasted sharply with Sukuna's chaotic energy. He was rolling something on a tray in his lap, his movements precise and practiced.

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you as you approached, and something shifted in his expression it wasn’t surprise, you couldn’t really read it, why did it seem like excitement? The girl and guy both looked up at you with mild curiosity.

"Wouldn't you look at that," Sukuna drawled, that infuriating smirk spreading across his face. He glanced at the dark-haired guy beside him. "Told you she'd come back."

The guy looked up from his rolling tray, his eyes meeting Sukuna's with something knowing in them. "You did," he said quietly, his voice smooth and unhurried. Then his gaze shifted to you, assessing. "A little late but eh."

'Don't react. Stay cool.'

"You said half off," you replied, keeping your voice casual, bored even. "I'm here to collect."

"Straight to business, huh?" Sukuna leaned back, his arm sliding deliberately around the girl's shoulders, pulling her closer against his side. His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder. "I like that. Very professional."

Your eyes tracked the movement before you could stop yourself. His thumb brushing her skin, the way she leaned into him like it was natural.

'Don't look. Don't fucking look'

But you couldn't help it, your jaw tightened as his hand drifted lower, settling on her waist.

Choso's eyes flicked between you and Sukuna, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He set down the joint he'd been rolling and leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. "She's staring," he observed, his tone almost conversational.

"I noticed," Sukuna said, not looking away from you. His smirk widened.

"What do you want?" Sukuna asked, pulling out his tin with deliberate slowness. His other hand stayed on the girl, fingers drumming to the music against her hip.

"Same as last time," you said, fishing a ten-dollar bill from your pocket. Your voice came out stiffer than you intended, he raised an eyebrow, reaching for the money but not immediately pulling away. His fingers lingered over yours, warm and taunting, while his other hand squeezed the girl's waist. She giggled, pressing closer to him.

"Just one? Come on, I know you can handle more than that." His eyes were locked on yours now, dark and knowing, even as the girl nuzzled against his neck.

'He's doing this on purpose. He knows exactly what he's doing.'

"Just one," you confirmed, trying to pull your hand back, but he held on for a beat longer. Your eyes flicked to where the girl was practically draped over him, her hand resting on his chest, fingers fidgeting with the string of his hoodie and occasionally fixing the chain he was wearing.

"You sure?" He leaned forward slightly, and the girl pouted at the loss of attention, but his hand stayed on her, thumb stroking her side in a way that made your stomach twist. This was stupid. "I could set you up real nice, better deal than half off if you stick around and keep me company, I've got a spot for you right here."

The way he said "company" made it clear what kind he meant, the same kind this girl was providing.

"I'm good," you said firmly, but your voice had an edge to it now, letting go of the bill you both had been holding on to.

"She's not good," Choso said quietly, almost to himself. When you looked at him, he was watching you with those calm, knowing eyes. "She's pissed." You flashed him a look, his head was resting on his closed fist, leaning into the arm of the chair.

Sukuna poked his tongue to the inside of his cheek, "I'm sure you're more than good," He hummed, his voice dropping lower. His hand finally left the girl to gesture at you, and you hated the way your chest loosened when he let go of her. "But tell me, you seem a little tense, something bothering you?"

'Fuck. Fuck'

"Nothing's bothering me," you said quickly. Too quickly.

His smirk widened. "No?" He pulled the girl closer again, his hand sliding up her side, and you watched—you couldn't help but watch—his fingers traced the curve of her ribs. "You sure about that, sweetheart?" The pet name hit different this time, mocking.

"Hmm." He tilted his head, studying you with those sharp eyes. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the girl's temple—slow, clearly testing the waters, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because you look a little jealous to me."

"She is," Choso said, his voice carrying just enough to reach you. He picked up his rolling tray again, but his attention was still on you. "Look at her hands."

Sukuna's eyes dropped to where your fingers were, you were clenching your fists so hard your knuckles were turning white, then back to your face.

Your face burned. "I'm not—"

"You are jealous." Sukuna confirmed with an amused ring to it, completely cutting off your attempt to defend yourself, his voice dropping to something almost intimate despite the audience. The girl giggled again, but he ignored her now, his full attention on you. "Is that what this is?"

"No," you said, but your voice cracked slightly on the word.

"Liar." He said it softly, almost fondly. Choso made a quiet sound of agreement, something between a hum and a laugh. "You were looking at me the second you walked in, kinda hurt you didn't come see me sooner." You couldn't tell if he was teasing or being serious.

"Took her about ten seconds to find you. Then she just... stood there."

"Watching," Sukuna finished, his grin sharp. "Weren't you?"

Choso confirmed, his eyes rolling over your body.

His hand finally left the girl to reach for you instead. His fingers caught your wrist, thumb pressing against your racing pulse. "Your heart's pounding, you're all flushed. And you keep looking at her like you want to throw her off the couch."

'I do. I really fucking do.'

"I don't care what you do," you said, trying to pull your wrist free, but he held firm.

"No?" He tugged you closer, just slightly, and you stumbled forward a step. "Then why do you look so pissed off?"

"I'm not—"

"You are." His thumb stroked over your pulse point, and the touch was so different from how he'd been touching the girl—possessive, intimate. "You came here thinking you'd play it cool, didn't you? Walk up, get your weed, maybe flirt a little. But then you saw me with her and it fucked you up."

Your breath caught. He was right, he was completely right, and you hated that he could read you so easily.

Sukuna glanced at Choso, something smug passing between them. "Called it."

Choso's mouth curved slightly, his voice low and knowing. "It's kinda cute honestly."

"I think," Sukuna continued, his voice dropping lower, "you wanted to be the one sitting here, you wanted my hands on you instead of on her." His eyes flicked down to where the girl was still pressed against his side, then back to you. "Am I wrong?"

You couldn't answer. Your throat was too tight.

"That's what I thought." He released your wrist and turned to the girl, his expression shifting to something apologetic. "Hey, babe? Do me a favor and go grab me another drink from the kitchen?"

The girl pouted. "But—"

"I'll make it worth your while later," he said, flashing her that devastating smile. "Promise."

She hesitated, then sighed and stood up, shooting you an almost threatening look before disappearing into the crowd. The guy on Sukuna's other side took the hint and wandered off too.

Choso didn't move. He stayed exactly where he was, still watching you with those calm, assessing eyes.

Sukuna patted the now-empty spot beside him. "Sit."

"I should—"

"Sit," he repeated, his voice firmer now. "Come on. You came all the way here, didn't you? Might as well stay for a bit."

You hesitated, your pride warring with the desperate want that had been building in your chest since you walked in and saw him with someone else.

"Just sit," he said, and his voice softened slightly—not quite gentle, but close. "You came here to feel good so let me do that for you."

The promise in those words made your knees weak. You told yourself it was stupid, that you were just another to him, that this meant nothing.

But you sat down anyway. "I'm not jealous,"

"No?" His fingers trailed down the side of your neck, barely touching, and you shivered. "Then prove it, stay for one roll, just one." You exhaled loudly with a whispered 'fine' finding it's way out.

Immediately Sukuna's arm came around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. He was warm and solid, and he smelled like cologne and smoke and something uniquely him that made your head spin.

"There she is," he murmured, his lips close to your ear. "My favorite customer."

"I'm sure," you said, but there was no bite to it.

"You are," he insisted, his hand sliding down to your waist. "You think I look at everyone the way I look at you?"

"Yes," you said honestly. "I watched you do it."

He laughed, low and rich. "Fair, but you're wrong." His fingers traced patterns on your hip. "You're different."

"How?" you challenged, finally looking at him.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and there was something in them that looked almost genuine. He reached for the joint smoldering in the ashtray, brought it to his lips and took a slow drag. "You came back," he said on the exhale, smoke curling between you. "Even after you saw what I am, even knowing it's a bad idea."

His hand came up to cup your face, thumb pulling gently at your bottom lip, bringing the joint to his mouth. "Open."

You did, without thinking, and he leaned in close—so close his lips almost touched yours. The space between you felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. He exhaled slowly, feeding the smoke directly into your mouth in a long, controlled stream. It was intimate, impossibly intimate—more intimate than a kiss could ever be.

The warmth of it filled your lungs, coated your throat, made everything feel hazy and heightened all at once. His eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, dark and unrelenting, watching the way your pupils dilated, the slight tremor that ran through you as the smoke settled inside you. You could taste him beneath it all—something sweet and distinctly Sukuna that made your head spin. Your hands instinctively gripped his shirt, needing something solid to hold onto as the world tilted. His thumb brushed your cheek, gentle and possessive, and you found yourself leaning closer, chasing him even as he pulled back just enough to let you breathe, his expression soft in a way that felt dangerous.

"That makes you either very brave," he murmured, his breath still ghosting over your lips, "or very stupid."

"Probably both," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. It's insane how easily he got you to settle.

"Definitely both," The other guy added, getting up from the chair and crossing over to the couch, sandwiching you between both of them.

"This is Choso," Sukuna said, gesturing to the dark-haired guy. "My supplier. He's the one who makes all the good shit I sell. And he's been, very, interested in meeting you."

"Have you?" you asked, looking at Choso.

"Very," Choso confirmed, his dark eyes intense. "Sukuna's been talking about you all week. Couldn't shut up about it, actually."

"Why would you—" Sukuna started, then stopped, shooting Choso a look. "I mentioned you. Once or twice."

"More like twenty times," Choso said, grinning. "He was convinced you'd come back. Bet me fifty bucks you'd show up tonight."

"And I was right," Sukuna said, pulling you closer so you were pressed against his side. His arm settled across your shoulders, possessive and warm. "Wasn't I?"

You didn't answer, too focused on the heat of his body, the way his thumb was now tracing patterns on your shoulder the same way it had been on that girl's thigh moments ago.

"That's what I thought," he murmured, and you could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

Choso lit the joint he'd rolled just now, taking a long drag before passing it to Sukuna. Sukuna took his own hit, then held it out to you.

You took the joint with shaky hands and brought it to your lips. The smoke was smooth, familiar now, but there was something different to it, you held it in your lungs before exhaling slowly.

"There you go," Sukuna whispered, his hand sliding higher on your thigh. "See? That wasn't so hard. You just needed to stop being so fucking stubborn."

You passed the joint to Choso, who took another hit before passing it back to Sukuna. The three of you fell into a rhythm—passing it back and forth, the smoke curling between you, the tension building with each exchange.

"So," Choso said after a few minutes, his voice lazy. "Sukuna tells me you're new to all this. That he was your first dealer."

"He was," You hummed, the couch getting comfier.

"And how's he treating you?" Choso asked, his tone teasing. "Good customer service?"

"The best," Sukuna said before you could answer. "Gave her a personal demonstration and everything."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "Sukuna—"

His hand slid higher, fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh—the same patterns from before. "I took very good care of you, made sure you had a good time, and you did, didn't you?"

You couldn't deny it. "I did."

"See?" Sukuna looked at Choso. "Told you she was into it."

"I can see that," Choso said, his eyes tracking the movement of Sukuna's hand on your thigh. "She's got that look. Like she wants more but won't ask for it."

"She's stubborn," Sukuna agreed. "But we can work with that."

"We?" you asked, your voice coming out breathier than intended.

"Mhm," Sukuna confirmed. He took another hit from the joint, cupping your chin in his hand, and before he could ask you leaned right into it.

It was just as intense as you remembered—demanding and possessive, his tongue sliding against yours as the smoke spread between both of you. You moaned into his mouth, your hands clutching at his shoulders, and you felt him smile against your lips.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless and dizzy, and not just from the weed.

"See?" he said, his voice rough. "You can't help yourself, you want this." His eyes flashed to Choso who was still beside you, "I think you should meet Choso properly now." He whispered against your lips.

You should say no. This was crazy. But the weed had made everything feel soft and possible, and the thought of having both of them focused on you made your head spin in the best way.

"I—" you started, but Sukuna cut you off.

"Don't overthink it," he said. "Just say yes."

"Yes," you breathed almost instantly, and both of them looked satisfied.

"Good girl," Sukuna said. He stood, pulling you up with him. "Come on, let's go."

Choso stood, grabbing his tin of joints. "Lead the way."

Sukuna led you through the house, his hand never leaving your waist. People moved out of your way, and you caught a few curious glances, a few knowing smirks. Your heart was pounding.

He took you upstairs, down a hallway, and into a room that was quieter, dimmer. It looked like someone's bedroom—a large bed against one wall, a couch against another, posters and string lights giving it a cozy, intimate feel.

Sukuna locked the door behind you, and suddenly the reality of what you were about to do hit you.

"Second thoughts?" he asked, reading your expression.

"No," you said quickly.

Sukuna grabbed your wrist, leading you to the couch, sitting down so his back was partly resting on the arm of the couch, pulling you into his lap so you were straddling him. Choso sat next to you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours. Sukuna reached into his pocket and pulled out another joint—bigger than the one you'd been smoking downstairs—and lit it.

He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "Gotta keep that high enjoyable for you, right sweetheart?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Use your words," he said exhaling the smoke, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly.

"Yes," you managed.

"Good girl," he said, and the praise sent a shiver through you. "Now come here."

He took a long drag, his eyes never leaving yours, the smoke curling between you like something alive. Your breath caught as he held it out to you, and you leaned forward to take it, hyperaware of how close his fingers were to your lips, how the warmth of his hand radiated against your cheek. The smoke was smooth, luxurious, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled it—but only for a moment. When you opened them again, Choso was watching you with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

His eyes lingered on the smoke leaving your lips, dark and hungry, and you felt heat bloom low in your belly at the weight of his gaze. He reached for the blunt that Sukuna was holding, their fingers brushing for just a second—a moment so brief it might have been accidental, but it felt deliberate. He inhaled slowly, the cherry glowing bright in the dimness, never breaking eye contact with you. The air between all three of you felt thick, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

"There you go," Sukuna murmured, his hands settling on your hips, watching the small interaction you were both having without a single word needed. "Just relax."

Sukuna's hands started to wander, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts through your shirt. You gasped, bringing your attention back to him, your hips rolling forward involuntarily, and you felt the hard length of him beneath you already.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You feel that? That's what you do to me."

"Sukuna," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"What?" he asked, his lips curving into a smirk. "You want something?"

"I—" You broke off as Choso's hand landed on your thigh, sliding up slowly.

"She wants a lot of things," Choso said, his voice low. "Don't you?"

You nodded, past the point of playing coy. The weed had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only want.

"Then take it," Sukuna said, taking another hit from the joint before holding it to your lips. You inhaled, your eyes locked on his, and when you exhaled, he captured your mouth in a kiss.

It was just as intense as before—demanding and possessive, his tongue sliding against yours. You moaned into his mouth, your hips grinding down against him, and his hands tightened on your waist.

Behind you, Choso's hands were everywhere—sliding up your sides, tangling in your hair, tracing the curve of your spine. When Sukuna finally pulled back, Choso turned your face toward him and kissed you just as deeply.

His kiss was different—slower, more exploratory, but no less intense. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue delved into your mouth, and you whimpered.

"Fuck, she's responsive," Choso muttered against your lips.

"Told you," Sukuna said. His hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your skin, and you arched into his touch. "She's perfect."

You were passed between them just like that—Sukuna kissing you while Choso's hands roamed your body, then Choso took his share of you while Sukuna's mouth found your neck. The joint made its rounds, each of you taking hits between kisses, the smoke adding to the hazy, dreamlike quality of it all.

"Can I touch you?" Choso asked, his lips brushing your ear, as if he wasn't just doing that. "Really touch you?"

"Yes," you gasped, and Sukuna chuckled.

His hand slide up to cup your breast through your shirt. You moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder, and Sukuna took advantage, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

"So fucking pretty," Sukuna muttered against your skin. "couldn't get you out my fucking mind all week." He breathed out with so much desperation.

His hands slid down to your ass, gripping hard and pulling you tighter against him. You could feel every inch of him through your clothes, hard and insistent, and you ground down, chasing the friction.

"Greedy," he said, but he sounded pleased. "You want more?"

"Yes," you whimpered. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely," he said, and then his hands were guiding your hips, showing you how to move against him with slow lingering thrusts. The pressure was perfect, hitting just right, and you moaned loudly.

Beside you, Choso's hands were still on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and you felt yourself climbing higher, faster than you'd expected.

"That's it," Sukuna encouraged, his voice rough. "Take what you need."

You were riding him now, grinding down hard, your hands clutching at his shoulders for balance. Choso's mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting, and one of his hands slid down to join Sukuna's on your hip, helping guide your movements.

"Look at you," Sukuna said, his eyes dark with lust. "Fucking yourself on my lap while my friend touches you. You love this, don't you?"

"Yes," you gasped, too far gone to be embarrassed. "Fuck, yes."

"Good girl," he said, and the praise combined with the pressure and the weed and their hands all over you was too much.

"I'm—" you started, but Choso cut you off.

"Let go," he hummed in your ear. "just feel it."

And you did. The orgasm crashed over you, stealing your breath, making your vision white out. A needy moan escaping your lips, your body convulsing, and both of them held you through it, their hands steadying you.

When you finally came back to yourself, you were slumped against Sukuna's chest, your body trembling with aftershocks. Choso was pressed against your back, his hand stroking your hair, and Sukuna's arms were wrapped around your waist.

"Fuck," you breathed, and both of them chuckled, exchanging a small look.

"That's the magic of Choso's shit," Sukuna played with a stray strand of your hair, "makes everything feel so heavenly."

He shifted beneath you, and you felt how hard he still was. "How'bout." He twirled the strand of hair around his finger, "we get better acquainted."

You hummed, closing your eyes at the sensation of Choso's fingers trailing a line from your lower back to your neck, total bliss fully taking over you, goosebumps growing on your skin.

The joint made another round, and with each hit, you felt yourself sinking deeper into the haze, into the sensation of their hands on your body, their mouths on your skin. Your shorts finding a way out, you just didn't like the sensation of jean on your skin.

Sukuna helped you turn around on his lap, your back to his chest now, spreading your legs over his thighs. Choso slipped off the couch knelt between them, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, and you whimpered.

"So pretty," Choso murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, eyes lifting up to meet yours, "Can I taste you?" There was something in the way he looked at you that made you arch your back towards him already, yearning, lust, you'd swear he was about to beg.

"She tastes fucking incredible," Sukuna said against your ear before you could answer. "Like heaven."

"Sukuna," you gasped, heat flooding your cheeks.

"It'a addictive." His hands came up to cup your breasts, and you arched into his touch further. "Tell him he can, I wanna watch him make you come."

The idea of it—of Choso's mouth on you while Sukuna watched, while Sukuna held you—made your head spin, heat pooling in your panties further, probably already ruined.

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

Choso's smile was slow and wicked. His hands slid higher, painted fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties. "Lift up for me," he said softly.

You obeyed, lifting your hips, and he slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aside. The cool air against your arousal made you shiver, and Sukuna's hands tightened on your breasts.

"Fuck, look at you," Sukuna muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "So wet already, you really want him don't you?" He cooed, your head nodding without you realising.

Choso's hands were on your thighs again, spreading you wider, and you felt exposed in the best way. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, and you whimpered.

"Please," you begged, he chuckled.

"So polite," he said. "I like that."

Then his mouth was on you, a low mewl left your mouth from the contact. His tongue was hot and wet, and of course he also had his tongue pierced to make your life harder than it already was, licking a long stripe up your center before circling your clit. The sensation was overwhelming, especially combined with the weed haze and Sukuna's whole body, arms, hands holding you, his mouth on your neck.

"That's it," Sukuna encouraged, his voice rough. "Let him taste you, let him make you feel good, show him all those pretty sounds you showed me last time."

Choso's tongue worked you expertly, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit. The sounds you were making was driving him insane, one of his hand reaching to palm himself through his pants, his other hand gripped your right thighs, holding you open, and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher.

"She's close," Sukuna said, and you could hear the satisfaction in his voice. Your fingers dug into Sukuna's arms, your nails were sure to leave marks.

"Good," Choso muttered against you, the vibration making you gasp. "wanna feel her come on my tongue."

He doubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, and you felt the pressure building to an unbearable peak. Sukuna's hands slid down to your hips, holding you steady, and his mouth found that spot behind your ear that made you crazy.

"Come for him," he commanded. "Let him see how pretty you look when you fall apart."

Your climax hit you like a freight train, your body convulsing, your vision going white. You cried out, your hands flying to Choso's hair which had come undone from it's bun by now, holding him against you as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Choso worked you through it, his tongue gentling as you came down, and when you finally went limp against Sukuna's chest, he pulled back with a satisfied smile.

"Fuck," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste even better than he said."

"Told you," Sukuna said smugly, he reached for the joint, which had been resting in an ashtray on the side table, and took a long drag. "Here," he said, holding it to your lips.

You inhaled shakily, the smoke filling your lungs, and when you exhaled, everything felt even more perfect.

"My turn," Sukuna said, shifting you off his lap and standing. "Get on the bed."

You obeyed on shaky legs, crossing to the bed and climbing onto it. Choso followed, sitting next to you and pulling you in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it made heat pool low in your stomach all over again.

Sukuna was pulling off his shirt with deliberate slowness, and your breath caught in your throat. The tattoos that covered his chest and arms were revealed inch by inch—intricate black lines that seemed to map out the landscape of his body, each pattern a visual feast that made your mouth go dry. Your eyes traced every line, every curve of muscle beneath inked skin, following the designs down his chest and across his shoulders. The tattoos seemed to emphasize the raw power of him, the controlled strength coiled beneath that pale skin. Your thighs clenched involuntarily as your gaze traveled lower, to the defined ridges of his abdomen, the way his muscles tensed and shifted with each movement. He was devastating—all dark ink and dangerous beauty, and you felt a desperate ache bloom low in your belly just from looking at him.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his tone mocking as your eyes roamed to his stomach, scanning the lining of his boxers.

"Yes," you admitted, and his smirk widened.

"Good," he said. He unbuckled his belt, the sound loud in the quiet room, and your heart started pounding again.

Choso's hands were on you, sliding your shirt up and over your head. You lifted your arms to help him, and then his fingers were at the clasp of your bra, unhooking it and tossing it aside.

"Fuck," he breathed, his eyes roaming over your bare chest. "fucking look at you."

His mouth found your breast, tongue circling your nipple, and you arched into him with a moan. Sukuna was watching, his eyes dark with lust as he pushed his jeans down his hips.

"Choso," he said, his voice commanding. "Pass me the tin."

Choso pulled back reluctantly, reaching for the tin of joints on the nightstand. He pulled one out and tossed it to Sukuna, who caught it easily and lit it, the fire of the lighter enveloping his face with perfection, his glazy eyes prettier than they were before.

"Come here," Sukuna said to you, and you crawled across the bed to him.

He took a drag from the joint, then pulled you in for a kiss, shotgunning the smoke into your mouth. You inhaled, the smoke and his taste filling your senses, and when you pulled back, you were dizzy with want.

Your hands roamed down to his boxers, palming him through the thin fabric. His cock straining against the material, pulsing, you felt him hiss as your fingers traced the outline of him. You worked him slowly, deliberately, watching his jaw clench as he fought to maintain composure.

"Tease," he growled, but he didn't stop you.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, freeing him. He was leaning on the edge of the bed, you positioned yourself on all fours, sitting on your heels in front of him, your eyes locked with his as you leaned in.

Your tongue traced the head of his cock, tasting him, and he groaned—a deep, guttural sound that made heat rise all over your body. Behind you, Choso was smoking slowly, his free hand roaming over your ass, squeezing and caressing, clearly turned on by the sight of you worshipping Sukuna.

"So fucking hot," Choso murmured, his voice rough with arousal. His fingers dipped lower, tracing the curve of you, and then you heard the soft sound of his jeans being unbuttoned. He palmed himself through his boxers, his breathing growing heavier as he watched you work Sukuna's cock. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the barely contained hunger as his hand moved slowly over the straining fabric, his arousal evident in every ragged breath. His eyes were fixed on you—on the way your lips wrapped around Sukuna so beautifully, the way your body moved, itching to take more of him in, his grip tightened on himself, his hips shifting slightly as he touched himself, completely undone by the sight of you.

You took Sukuna deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you worked him. His hand came down to thread through your hair, not forcing, just holding, grounding himself as pleasure rippled through him. The joint was still clenched between his teeth, smoke curling lazily as he watched you.

"That's it," he breathed. "Just like that."

Choso's groans mixed with Sukuna's, both of them completely undone by the sight of you on your knees between them, caught in the heat of their desire and your own.

"Lay back," he said finally, and you obeyed, letting go of him with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting both of you for a short moment until you backed up, settling against the pillows, Choso sitting against the headboard beside you.

Sukuna climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading you open, and you felt exposed and vulnerable and so fucking turned on you could barely think.

"Such a good girl?" his fingers slid through your wetness, fucking you just with his eyes.

"Yes," you gasped, wanting to feel more of him,"Please."

"Please what?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"Please fuck me," you begged, past the point of pride.

"That's better," he said. He reached towards Choso, he pulled a condom from his pocket handing it to him, Sukuna brought it to his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched as he rolled it on, your breath coming faster.

Choso hand was stroking your hair now. "You're doing so good," he cooed. "So fucking good."

Sukuna positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against you, and you whimpered.

"Look at me," he commanded, and you obeyed, your eyes locking with his.

Then he pushed in, slow and steady, and you cried out at the stretch. He was big—bigger than you had inticipated—and the sensation of being filled was overwhelming but so fucking good.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping forward. "You feel so fucking good. So tight."

He bottomed out, and you felt impossibly full. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust.

"You okay?" Choso asked softly, his hand gliding over your body, brushing ever so slightly against your nipples.

"Yes," you managed. "So o-okay."

"Good," Sukuna said. He pulled back slowly, then thrust back in, and you moaned loudly.

He set a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with force, but in a painfully slow way, driving his cock deep inside you with each thrust. You felt yourself climbing higher, your walls clenching around him as pleasure built to a fever pitch. Choso's mouth found yours, kissing you sloppily, his tongue exploring you, swallowing every desperate moan that spilled from your lips as Sukuna fucked you.

"That's it," Sukuna encouraged, his voice rough. "That's it, take it all"."

His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you steady as he fucked you harder, faster, his cock slamming into you with relentless force. The sound of skin slapping against skin—wet and obscene—filled the room, mixing with your desperate moans, his ragged groans, and Choso's murmured praise as he watched you fall apart on Sukuna's cock.

"She's so fucking perfect," Choso said, pulling back from the kiss to watch, eyes half lidded, worshipping everything you did. "She sounds so fucking good taking you."

"God I know," his eyes locked on where you were joined. "Fucking made for this."

He reached for the joint, which was balanced on the edge of the nightstand, and took a drag without breaking rhythm. Then he held it to your lips, and you inhaled shakily, the smoke filling your lungs as pleasure coursed through you.

You turned towards Choso, your hand finding his hair, pulling him towards you with desperate need. When your mouths met, it was electric—his tongue immediately seeking yours, tasting the smoke and you all at once. He kissed you deeply, possessively, his hand cupping the back of your head as you exhaled the smoke between your parted lips. The intimacy of it was hot—the way he breathed you in, the way his tongue tangled with yours, drawing out the moment.

"Fuck," he groaned against your mouth, his eyes dark with want. "You taste so fucking good like that."

Sukuna's rhythm slowed down, dragging the feeling against your walls. You could feel him watching, sensing the possessive hunger radiating off him as he watched you and Choso like this, your mouths locked together, smoke curling between you.

"That's it," Sukuna growled, his voice rough with arousal. "Let him taste you, you look perfect on him."

Choso pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, desperate whines slipping from you, your lips still nearly touching. His thumb stroked your cheekbone, and there was something almost tender in the gesture despite the raw intensity of everything else. But then his hand moved to your chin, tilting your head gently, turning you towards Sukuna.

"His turn," Choso instructed, his voice low and commanding. "Show him how good he makes you feel."

Sukuna's hand came up to cup your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you towards him. His kiss was different from Choso's—more demanding, more dominant, his tongue claiming your mouth like he owned it. You could taste the weed on him, could feel the intensity of his need as he bit at your lip, sucking gently, his hips still moving inside you in that brutal, perfect rhythm.

"Mmm," he groaned into your mouth, "there's my girl, so sharing us so nicely."

The three of you were connected now—Sukuna inside you, both of them kissing you in turn, hands roaming over your skin, smoke still lingering in the air between you. It was overwhelming and perfect, the possessive energy of both of them, the way they shared you, the way they clearly loved watching each other touch you.

Choso's hand found your breast, squeezing gently as he watched you kiss Sukuna, his own arousal evident in the way his breathing had quickened. Sukuna's hand tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss, like he couldn't get enough of you, fulfilling his craving.

When he finally released you, you were dizzy—from the weed, from the pleasure, from the sheer intensity of having both of them like this.

The smoke combined with the pleasure made everything feel heightened, intense. You could feel every inch of him, every thrust, every touch. It was too much and not enough all at once.

"I'm close," you gasped, and Sukuna's hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Then come," he commanded. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."

The combination of his thumb on your clit rocking soft circles and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you was too much. You came with a cry, your body arching and trembling under him, your walls clenching around him.

"Fuck," Sukuna groaned, his rhythm faltering. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so fucking good."

He thrust a few more times, then stilled, his own orgasm hitting him. You felt him pulse inside you, and the sensation sending another wave of pleasure run through you.

Sukuna was still buried inside you, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard. "You're my favourite." His crimson hazy eyes were still devouring you, his face lowering to your cheek to leave a kiss on your cheek, lingering there for a few seconds. "Bet I am," you let out a small chuckle, bliss consuming you.

Sukuna pulled out carefully, disposing of the condom and collapsing next to you on the bed. You lay there, boneless and satisfied, your mind still hazy from the highs.

Choso shifted, and you realised he was still hard, his erection straining against his jeans. You looked at him, then at Sukuna.

"You can't leave him like that," Sukuna nodded towards Choso, which you turned your attention to, his eyes dark and dewy, yearning.

You should be exhausted, you should be done. But the weed and the lingering pleasure and the way Choso was looking at you, pants undone, boxers restraining him, it made you want more.

"Yes," you said. "Please." You begged, as if asking for permission.

Choso's smile was slow and satisfied.

He strips off his shirt and jeans with deliberate slowness, and you watched with heavy-lidded eyes, turning your attention to him fully now, your mouth going dry. His body was leaner than Sukuna's, all pale, sculpted lines and controlled muscle, the kind of physique that spoke of restrained power.

His skin was a canvas of scattered tattoos that seemed to draw your eye downward, each one a breadcrumb leading to the sight that made your breath catch: the glint of silver at his navel, a delicate piercing that caught the light and drew attention to the defined muscles of his lower abdomen. The jewelry was striking—elegant and somehow deeply erotic against his pale skin, a visual anchor that made your core clench with renewed need.

His chest rose and fell with controlled breathing, but you could see the tension in him, the way his muscles were coiled tight with restraint. He was beautiful in a different way than Sukuna—sharper, more refined, but no less devastating. The way he stood there, half-naked and clearly aching for you, made your thighs tremble.

He grabbed another condom from his jeans before tossing them aside, you watched as he tore it open and rolled it on, the sight making your mouth go dry all over again.

"Come here," he said, settling back against the headboard. "use me."

Your legs were shaky as you moved to straddle him, but his hands steadie you, gripping your hips as you positioned yourself over him.

"That's it," he murmured, guiding you down slowly with one hand, the other stroking himself against your entrance spreading your juices all over himself. "Take your time."

You sank down onto him inch by inch, the stretch making you gasp—a delicious burn that had your walls fluttering around him as he filled you completely. The friction was exquisite, every ridge and vein of him dragging against your sensitive inner walls as you took him deeper. He was slightly smaller than Sukuna but no less intense, the angle was different, sharper, hitting that spot deep inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids with every subtle shift of your hips.

"Fuck," you breathed, your thighs trembling as you seated yourself fully on him, feeling impossibly full.

Choso's hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his breathing ragged. "God, you're so tight," he groaned, his head falling back against the headboard. "So fucking perfect."

Movement caught your peripheral vision, and you turned to see Sukuna stretched out beside you both, propped up on his elbows, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body. He wasn't touching himself, but the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to devour every second of this, made heat pool even deeper in your core.

His voice rough with arousal. "Taking him so well sweetheart."

You started to move, rolling your hips experimentally, the sensation made you moan. But instead of letting Choso guide you, you placed your hands firmly on his chest, pushing him back harder against the headboard, a sudden shift that took him by surprise.

"Let me," you said, your voice breathless but commanding, and you felt Choso's cock twitch inside you at your tone.

"Shit- yes," he groaned, his hands loosening their grip, yielding to you. "fuck me princess." he mumbled under his breath.

You set your own rhythm, your hips rolling and grinding in a way that had pleasure sparking through every nerve ending. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms.

"Jesus Christ," Sukuna breathed from beside you, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke towards both of you, when you glanced at him, his eyes were locked on you and Choso, watching you take control with an expression of pure hunger. "Found his sweet spot huh?" He grinned with satisfaction. "So fucking hot."

The praise made you bolder. You slid one hand up Choso's chest to his throat, resting it there, not squeezing, just holding. His eyes widened slightly, his pupils blown with desire, and a broken moan escaped his lips.

"You like that?" you lowered yourself, teeth grazing at his earlob, your voice low and teasing as you rode him harder.

"S'much- fuck- keep using me," Choso gasped sluring his words, his hands gripping your thighs, digging his fingers in but not trying to guide you anymore. He was completely yielding to you, letting you use him however you wanted. "God, yes, please—"

Your other hand slid into his hair, gripping the dark strands and tugging his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. The gesture was possessive, dominant, and the way he submitted to it—the way his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open on a moan—made power surge through you.

"Look at you," you murmured, echoing Sukuna's earlier words. "So good for me."

"Holy fuck," Sukuna groaned, and suddenly his hands were on you—one sliding up your spine, the other cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. "You have no idea how hot you look right now, fucking him like that."

The dual sensations—Choso filling you so perfectly, hitting that spot inside you with every roll of your hips, and Sukuna's hands roaming your body, claiming you even as you claimed Choso—were overwhelming. You moved faster, chasing your pleasure, your hand tightening slightly in Choso's hair.

"Fuck," Choso whimpered, the sound of him begging made heat coil tighter in your core. "Please, don't stop—"

"I won't," you promised, your voice breathless, slowly breaking on top of him. "Not until I come all over your cock."

Sukuna groaned, his hand sliding down your back to grip your ass, squeezing hard. His mouth found your shoulder, kissing and biting the sensitive skin there. "You're perfect. So fucking perfect like this, here." Sukuna pressed the joint to your lips. You took a hit without stopping your movements, the smoke making everything feel even more intense.

Sukuna took his own hit, then held it to Choso's lips. Choso inhaled, his eyes never leaving yours, and the intimacy of it—the three of you sharing breath and pleasure and this moment—made your chest tight.

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. Your movements became more desperate, more aggressive, and Choso was falling apart beneath you—his breathing ragged, his muscles tense, completely at your mercy, desperatly trying to hold himself together to not thrust into you.

Sukuna laid back down beside Choso, his left hand gripping the back of Choso's neck firmly, forcing his head to turn toward him. Their eyes locked—dark and intense, both of them with a knowing smirk on their lips.

"How fucking lucky are we right now?" Sukuna's voice was rough, possessive, his grip tightening on Choso's neck. "Getting to have her like this, s'fucking gone about to make our girl come again."

Choso's breath hitched, "So fucking lucky." he exhaled, his eyes never leaving Sukuna's, and you felt him pulse inside you at those words—our girl.

Then Sukuna's crimson foggy gaze shifted to you, pulling Choso's head with him so he was looking at you once more, "Make our girl come," he commanded, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding. "Right fucking now." He almost sounded desperate.

Choso's hand immediately slid to your core, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing delicate but fast circles that made you gasp.

"That's it," Sukuna murmured, taking another drag of smoke, a light cloud escaping him as he passed it to Choso, his lips wrapping around the edge so divinely.

The added stimulation combined with the sight of Choso beneath you—his face twisted in pleasure—pushed you over the edge.

"You're so beautiful," Choso said, his voice strained. "So fucking beautiful like this." His voice broke as your walls squeezed him, and you felt him pulse inside you, his own orgasm triggered by yours with a strangle moan, edging a whimper escaping his throat.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, trembling and gasping, your hand releasing his throat to brace yourself. Sukuna's hands were still on you, stroking your back soothingly, his mouth pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," Sukuna murmured, his voice thick with arousal, fingers in your hair with his thumb stroking your cheekbone, your glassy eyes looking up at him.

Choso's arms wrapped around you weakly, his chest heaving beneath you. "Jesus Christ," he breathed.

You lifted your head to look at him, and the expression on his face—completely wrecked, satisfied, and looking at you like you were something divine—made warmth bloom in your chest.

"Good?" you asked, your voice teasing despite your exhaustion.

"So much better than good," he said, pulling you up for a slow, deep kiss.

You lay there for a long moment, catching your breath, feeling Choso soften inside you. Eventually he shifted, carefully lifting you off him.

The three of you lay tangled together on the bed, your bodies still humming with the afterglow. Sukuna's hand rested gently in your hair, Choso's arm was wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you felt completely safe—held between them in the quiet aftermath.

No one spoke. There was no need to. The room was soft and warm, the three of you breathing in sync, just existing together in this peaceful moment. Sukuna's thumb traced lazy patterns on your scalp. Choso pressed a quiet kiss to the back of your neck—tender, not demanding, just present. You felt the steady thrum of both their heartbeats, the weight of their bodies against yours, grounding you.

It was intimate in a different way now—not charged with urgency, just existing in the moment, the smoke surrounding the three of you.

You weren't sure how long you'd been drifting when Sukuna's phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. He groaned, reaching over you to grab it, and the movement made you aware of how sore you were—a deep, satisfying ache that radiated through your entire body.

"Fuck," Sukuna muttered, squinting at the screen. "We've got people waiting."

Choso shifted behind you, his hand sliding from your hip to your waist. "How many?"

"Enough." Sukuna tossed the phone back down and looked at you, that cocky grin returning. "Get dressed, princess. You're coming with us." He stretched, "We've got business to handle, and I'm not leaving you up here alone." His fingers traced one of the marks on your shoulder, possessive. "Not when you look like this."

Your brain felt like it was moving through honey. "What?"

"You're coming with us," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But I—" You looked down at yourself, at your naked, marked-up body. "I can't go down there like this."

"Sure you can," Sukuna said, already pulling on his jeans. "Just need to get dressed first."

Choso's hand was gentle on your back, helping you sit up even though your limbs felt like jelly. "Can you stand?" he asked softly, and there was genuine concern in his voice even as his thumb brushed over a bite mark on your spine.

"I think so," you said, though you weren't entirely sure. Everything felt distant and hazy, your body still humming with residual pleasure and the weed making your thoughts slow and syrupy.

Choso was gathering your clothes, handing them to you with a small smile. "Come on love,"

Your heart skipped at that, and you let him help you dress. Your legs were still shaky, and you were acutely aware of every mark they'd left on your skin— your neck was covered in dark bruises and bite marks. Your collarbones. The visible edge of your shoulders where your shirt didn't quite cover. There was no hiding what had happened, no pretending this was anything other than what it was.

"Perfect," Sukuna said when you were dressed, looking you over with satisfaction. "Everyone's gonna know exactly what we've been doing up here." His usual teasing grin returned to his lips.

Heat flooded your cheeks, but there was something thrilling about it too.

The hallway was dimmer than the bedroom, the bass from downstairs thrumming through the walls. You walked between them, Sukuna's securing his index and middle finger in the loop of your jean shorts, pulling you forward, Choso's fingers loosely intertwined with yours. Your legs were still shaky, and you were hyper-aware of every mark they'd left on you—the hickeys on your neck, the bruises on your hips, the tender ache between your thighs.

You were almost to the stairs when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Hey! There you are."

Your stomach dropped, you turned to see your ex pushing through a small group of people, his face lighting up when he spotted you. He looked the same—same stupid haircut, same confident stride that used to make your heart race but now it just made you tired.

"I've been looking for you, wanted to talk" he said, stepping closer with that easy smile he always used when he wanted something. "Didn't know you'd be here tonight. You look—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes finally registering Sukuna and Choso flanking you. His gaze traveled from Sukuna's figners linked to your shorts to where Choso's fingers were still laced with yours, and his expression shifted—confusion melting into something uglier.

"What the fuck." His voice hardened. "Are you serious right now?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. His eyes were locked between on Sukuna and Choso, recognition dawning.

"So now you're fucking the dealers?" he spat, his nice demeanour evaporating completely. "That's what you're into now? Getting passed around—"

"So loud," Sukuna interrupted, his voice dangerously smooth. He stepped forward slightly, positioning himself just in front of you, and that cocky grin spread across his face. "You're starting to sound jealous."

Your ex's jaw clenched. "I'm not—"

"Are you sure?" Sukuna tilted his head, his hand sliding firmly around your waist now, pulling you against his side. "Because it really sounds like you're upset you weren't invited. Did you wanna join? Is that it? We're going for seconds later, I'll save you a spot" His grin was evil.

Choso laughed—a genuine, amused sound that made your ex's face flush red. "Man, you fumbled hard," Choso said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a casual claim. "Like, catastrophically."

"Fuck you," your ex snapped. He looked between the three of you, and you could see the moment he realized he'd lost—not just you, but any chance of saving face with the audience that had been watching.

Sukuna's grin widened if possible. "Already did that, actually." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something almost conversational. "Multiple times. She's very vocal about it."

Your face burned, but you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Choso squeezed your hand, his other arm coming around your shoulders, and suddenly you were completely surrounded by them.

Your ex's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "You're—this is—"

"Pathetic?" Sukuna supplied helpfully. "Yeah, we know, now if you'll excuse us, we've got shit to do." He turned, guiding you toward the stairs, Choso moving with you in perfect sync.

As you walked away, you heard your ex mutter something under his breath, but it didn't matter. Not when Sukuna's hand was warm and possessive on your hip, not when Choso pressed a soft kiss to your temple, not when you could still feel the phantom touch of both of them all over your body.

They led you back downstairs to the main room where the party was still in full swing, but everything felt different now. You weren't just another face in the crowd anymore—you were theirs, and everyone could see it.

Sukuna guided you to their usual spot, the worn leather couch in the corner that always seemed to be reserved for them. He dropped down first, spreading his legs wide in that confident way of his, then pulled you down beside him. Before you could settle, he was already maneuvering you—lifting your legs across his lap, positioning you so your head rested on Choso's lap, sitting on the other side extreme of the couch.

Choso's arms came around you immediately, one hand settling on your hip, the other threading gently through your hair. His fingers played through the strands soft touches, and you felt him press a soft kiss to your temple.

"Comfortable?" he murmured, his fingers continuing their gentle path through your hair.

You nodded, sinking into the warmth of them both. Sukuna's hand was already tracing lazy patterns on your calf, a natural instinct of his.

You could feel eyes on you—curious glances, whispered conversations. A few people approached, the usual customers looking to buy, and Sukuna handled them with his typical efficiency, never once moving his hand from your leg.

"Didn't you say you don't share?" you asked quietly, looking up at Sukuna as someone walked away with their purchase.

His eyes slid to yours, that cocky smirk playing at his lips. "I share sometimes," he said, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh of your thigh. "When I care enough."

"Aren't you lucky," Choso confirmed, his voice low and amused. His fingers continued their gentle massage through your hair.

Another customer approached, and the business continued. Sukuna counted bills with one hand while the other stayed firmly on your leg. Choso leaned forward occasionally to grab something from the table, but his fingers always returned to your hair, keeping you anchored against him.

You felt like a trophy between them, and the crazy thing was, you didn't mind. You liked it. Liked the way Sukuna's fingers would squeeze your ankle when someone looked at you too long. Liked the way Choso's fingers would curl gently through your hair when he laughed at something. Liked being the center of their attention even while they worked.

Sukuna glanced over, catching your eye, and that possessive look was back—the one that made your stomach flip that first night you met him. "Get used to this," he said, his voice low enough that only you and Choso could hear. "my favourite customer."

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idk about you guys but I think that's one hell of a power duo

venting your frustrations to your neighbor after a wellness check turns near fatal.

black!fem, plus size reader (it comes up later), plug!sukuna, they’re not together but they act like a married couple lmao, humor to angst to fluff, medical conditions, mentions of fatphobia + medical racism, arguing (he ends up apologizing ofc), reader ends up crying, comfort, happy ending, no smut in this, just some kissing and hugging (I’ll be doing a part two tho so god bless)

wc: 2.1K

I was in my feelings when I wrote this and needed a somewhat productive way to channel it. This is a tiny bit self indulgent but this is part of the lore of reader’s story. For once, I’m not horny posting so all you supposed fluff lovers complaining in the tags better run this up.

✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ✧₊ ✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ✧₊⁺🕯

“For the love of God and everything great, Ryomen Sukuna…will you please go the fuck home?!”

“Yeah, I sure will. When I good and damn well feel like it. Now stop asking that dumb ass question before you piss me off.”

It had been the exact same tone and mood set in that apartment for three days….tense, irritable and downright miserable. A stark difference from the laughs and light, airy atmosphere that usually filled it. Those mauve colored walls and bubblegum pink decorations seemed to fade into a dull gray. Hell, it’s how the entire world seemed at the moment…just empty and void of all happiness. Hence why the two people housed inside couldn’t stop lunging at one another’s throats…