Please Love Me

Reluctantly he slipped from your grip, laying your head softly down upon the pillows and ensuring the blanket was wrapped snugly around you before padding into the bathroom to confirm the truth of his suspicions. His red eyes went straight to the tile beneath the sink, catching his lower lip between his teeth at the easy assessment that something was amiss.

The tile had been put back in the wrong orientation, the pattern not quite matching up with the ones neighbouring it. Sukuna hadn’t shifted that tile in months, and even if he had, he always took great care to line it back up again perfectly to avoid any suspicion.

This was the carelessness of someone replacing the tile in a panic. 

A heavy breath left his lips and for a few moments he’d just stared at it, leaning his palm against the sink, his mind totally blank. He didn’t want this to be happening now - he’d figured one day you’d find out, but had wanted that to be under his careful control at a time when you were more securely locked within his grip. 

Right now he was uncertain where your mind lay and that was a problem. 

At least you hadn’t immediately run from him. That, he supposed, was a positive sign. 

Even through all your jittery anxiety displayed earlier that evening, you’d still given yourself to him, still clung to him like he was the most precious thing in your world. It meant that he still had a chance to shape your opinion on what you’d seen - still had a chance to secure your place with him. 

He wondered if you’d even understood what you’d found. Perhaps you’d made up some excuse or story in your head where Sukuna came off better than the reality. It would be preferable if you had understood and had chosen to stay anyway. If that was the case Sukuna really would’ve struck upon gold. 

Crouching down, he shifted the tile, finding that you’d repacked the items in the space below almost exactly as you’d found them. That pleased him, because leaving the evidence in place suggested that you didn’t have a plan to run off with it or investigate further. Or, perhaps you were just clever enough to know he’d check and didn’t want to risk him realising what you knew. 

It was a thought he shoved from his mind in favour of holding faith in your loyalty to him. 

Putting the tile back where it belonged, Sukuna stood up and leant against the sink once more, red eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He looked tired, with dark circles hanging on his face, and his hair a little more tousled than usual. Despite it all there was a calm quality to his expression - one that he wasn’t quite expecting on account of the fact that he should have been freaking out. 

He was on the precipice of losing you, of losing everything. You’d discovered the secret that could topple everything he’d spent years building. 

And yet, he felt strangely serene. 

You hadn’t run. Not yet. You knew, and you were still there in his bed. That meant that there was a chance for him. There was no point in panicking, what he needed was to stay level-headed and formulate a plan to ensure that you didn’t change your mind. He needed to know where your head was at, and he needed to twist your thoughts until all your affection was directed towards him. 

Assuming that wasn’t already the case. 

Ideally, he wouldn’t need to do much at all. 

—

Sukuna hadn’t needed to wait long to understand your thoughts on the whole situation. 

A day had passed since that fateful evening, and Sukuna had made sure to come home from work as early as possible. While he was feeling calm about the whole thing, he wasn’t entirely confident that you wouldn’t scurry off while he was out of the house. He couldn’t completely comprehend your mental state and was subsequently unsure whether your currently fragile mind might work with or against him.

His gut told him that your distressed condition would probably go in his favour, since you were always so clingy with him, but that didn’t stop the flicker of anxiety over the idea that hours alone to think would have you fleeing from his home. 

If that was the case it would be fine - he’d still get you back. It would just be far more difficult than he’d ideally like it to be. 

He didn’t want to take drastic measures with you - he wanted you to be at his side completely willingly. But if you forced his hand he would act regardless. You were destined to be with him and there was absolutely nothing that would ever get in the way of that. 

The pregnancy had really come at the right time, because he was certain that the baby would make it easier to keep you exactly where you belonged. It was something that would tie you to him permanently, something that would give you serious pause when considering leaving him. God, he was glad he’d had the foresight to steal your birth control pills and poke holes in the condoms when you’d made him use them - that was really paying off for him. 

And just as he’d hoped, upon his return to the apartment he found you there as usual. 

You were curled up on the sofa, all wrapped up and cozy in a blanket. The TV was on, playing an episode of Community - a show you’d often have on as comforting background noise. You weren’t watching it when he walked in through the door, your eyes wide and worried as you watched him enter, a pistol gripped between your trembling hands. 

Sukuna faltered for a moment, his shoulders only relaxing when you let out a choked sigh of relief, lowering the gun down onto your lap. 

“Hey,” he said, almost cautiously. 

“Hey.” You rubbed your face. Sukuna surveyed you carefully, taking note of how tired you looked, with dark circles hanging beneath your unusually dull eyes. You looked sickly - sweat slick on your brow, and your lips a little cracked and dry. 

“Gonna shoot me, baby?” He asked, only half joking. 

“No- no. Sorry.” The apology was bashful, and you were quick to transfer the gun from your lap over to the coffee table. “You’re home so early. When I heard the door I thought maybe…you know…” 

He hummed as you let him fill in the gaps. He hoped you were suggesting that you were concerned he was someone else, rather than fearing that he’d broken his usual routine with the intent of showing up to hurt you. It didn’t seem to be the latter, since your anxiety from the previous night was largely absent. 

You just seemed unwell rather than scared. 

“It’s okay. I like knowing that you can look out for yourself.” He caught the blush that covered your cheeks, his ego boosted by the reactions he could still draw from you. If the evidence wasn’t so clear he would’ve believed you were still totally in the dark about Kashimo, going by the adoration you still seemed to hold for him. 

He hoped that was a sign of good things to come. 

“Not feeling well?” He asked, crossing the room and crouching down in front of you. His hand went to your forehead, pressing against the sweaty skin. You were running concerningly hot, and he quickly moved to stroke your hair comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss of greeting on your lips. 

“Morning sickness doesn’t seem to keep itself exclusive to the morning,” you grumbled with a pout. If you didn’t look so faint he’d find it insanely cute.

A smile played on his lips at your words, the concerns about your relationship fleeing him for a moment. He’d been so focussed on the Kashimo issue that he hadn’t had too much time to bask in the pleasant feeling of you being pregnant with his child. He was happy to hear you talk about something like morning sickness - some mundane part of your shared life. 

It made his fears of a burning future seem almost trivial. 

“Ah. Want me to make you some soup? That should be easy for you to keep down,” he suggested. 

“It's okay, I’ll do it. You’ve been at work all day.” You moved to get up, but Sukuna’s hands were quick to fall upon your shoulders, carefully sitting you back down on the couch. 

“Stay there. You’re pregnant, I’m not making you do anything.” 

You flushed, sinking back down into the sofa as your eyes followed him. There was still a trace of something within them - a slight uncertainty that Sukuna didn’t like, but he brushed it aside in favour of pretending everything was normal. He’d make you dinner and you’d curl up at his side on the couch while you watched TV. 

Just like every night. 

That was your routine, that was how it was for you to belong to him. 

Nothing would change that. 

“One of Kashimo’s old friends called me today.” Your voice rang out after a few minutes of silence. 

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, stalling his cutting of onions for a near imperceptible second before continuing. “Oh yeah?” He was curious to see where you were going to take this, because he was absolutely certain that no such friend had reached out to you. 

“They said he’s gone missing.” 

“Huh. Probably in some drug den somewhere if what Satoru told me is anything to go by.” Sukuna said easily, trying his best to keep his expression neutral. He’d admit to nothing until you came out and actively accused him of something. Coming out with the truth or a half-baked lie could both do damage until he understood where your mind was on the issue.

“I don’t know, I’m kind of worried.” 

“Why? The guy treated you like shit. Good riddance, who cares what he’s doing?” 

For a few moments you were silent, biting down on your lip. Your gaze wasn’t on Sukuna, but on the TV, pretending to be all invested in the show you’d seen hundreds of times. Sukuna knew you well enough to be able to see the cogs turning in your brain - a war raging in your mind over what you should say next. 

“What if he’s dead?” You asked. 

Still, you didn’t look at him. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were holding your breath. It wasn’t an outright accusation, it was nothing more than a roundabout way of trying to get Sukuna to slip up. He needed you to give him more than that, so he simply played along with your thought experiment. 

It's what he would do until you asked him a direct question about your suspicions. 

“Why would you think that?” He asked, adding the chopped onions to the pot, covering it and setting it on a low heat, continuing to prepare dinner like you were discussing something no more important than the next day’s weather. 

To him it was no more important than that. 

“I don’t-” you hesitated, freezing up. “I don’t know. Just a feeling.” 

Sukuna tried to keep himself from smiling at how poorly you’d played this game with him. You’d gone in without any real plan or structure to your conversation, leaving yourself with no excuse or opportunity to understand the truth without asking the question outright. You just weren’t experienced enough at acting sly - not like he was.

It was most amusing to see you trying so hard at it though. 

Cute, even. 

“Baby.” Sukuna dropped the knife into the sink, his attention turning to you. You looked so sweet all huddled up on his sofa, practically drowning in one of his t-shirts. There was something about the scene that provided unquestionable proof that you were his, and he wondered if you even believed in the little investigation you were mounting. 

Were you asking those questions because you really wanted to know? Because you really cared? Or were you simply asking the questions because you felt it was morally correct? Asking with the intention of weakly confirming that Sukuna had done nothing wrong, allowing you to stick your head back in the sand?

Perhaps that was why you weren’t addressing things directly. 

“Lets cut the shit. Why are we talking about that guy? I don’t like thinking about him,” Sukuna said, staring down at you expectantly. 

There, you could have your chance at being direct, if you didn’t want to take it then that was that. Case closed. 

He watched your face evenly, taking note of your nervous, darting eyes, and of the way that your lips trembled at their corners. For a moment he was certain you’d back down from the challenge, but you seemed to miraculously find your resolve somewhere deep within yourself. 

“Why do you have Kashimo’s things?” You asked quietly, and Sukuna grinned. 

“Why do you think I have his things?” 

He couldn't pass up the chance for you to come up with your own reasoning. He wanted to hear your thought process first before offering either the truth or a lie that would fall further from the image you’d already created in your head. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” 

“Don’t you?” 

Again, there was hesitation. Your gaze dropped down to your lap in a desperate attempt to escape the pressure Sukuna brought with him as he approached your position on the sofa. “No. I don’t,” you murmured quietly. “I don’t.”

There was a resignation in your voice that told him you did know, but were desperately trying to find another explanation, hoping there was something he’d say that could clear all this up for you as some big misunderstanding. 

You’d find no such comfort from him. 

He wouldn’t spend his whole life lying to you, not when the cat was clawing at the bag in a desperate attempt at freedom. One day you’d have to know, and you’d have to make peace with who he was. 

He’d make sure you made peace with it. 

“No, no. Go on, pretty girl.” His hands were on your shoulders, massaging them gently. “You’re not much of a liar, so say it. Say what you’re thinking. Tell me what’s been on your mind since I came home yesterday.” 

You were rigid beneath his touch. “Did- did you kill Kashimo?” 

“Yeah. I did.”  

He felt a shudder run through you, your breaths picking up rapidly at his confession. Instantly, tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes and you shrugged his hands off you, scrambling away further down the sofa. Your gaze was wild and scared, fixed on him with renewed anxiety just like your body language from the night before. 

You’d clearly pushed the thought aside over the past twenty-four hours - buried it deep beneath a slew of delusions. With the truth laid so plainly in front of you it was no longer possible to convince yourself that there was some reasonable explanation for what you’d found. 

And that clearly terrified you. 

To some extent he’d expected your reaction.

Of course you were going to panic - you weren’t like him, you were nice and soft, completely removed from the horrors of his world. But that still didn’t stop your response from wounding him. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him - he’d never do anything to hurt you, and he hated seeing you cowering away from him like you were. 

Even so, he needed to endure for a while. He’d be able to bring you back around once you let him explain - he was certain of that. There wasn’t a single thing that would keep him from you. It was pointless for him to grow overwhelmed with worry or sorrow - this was his chance to make you see the love in his actions, and he wasn’t going to waste it. 

Rounding the sofa, he positioned himself in front of you. His stomach twisted as you drew your knees up to your chest, as if creating a barrier between the two of you. He wanted to reach out and wipe your tears, perhaps card his fingers through your hair and coo about how safe you were with him, but he feared you’d push him away. 

It was a situation that needed delicate handling. 

“Why?” You choked out. “Why would you?” 

“I saw how upset you were at the reunion. I saw how much he’d hurt you. I ran into the guy afterwards and confronted him about it all and things got a bit nasty. I had no choice.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. There was little proof concerning the framing work he and Satoru had engaged in to make Kashimo look bad, so he wouldn’t admit it to you. 

That would be a pointless overcomplication. 

“Things got nasty?” You echoed, disbelief evident in your tone. 

“Yeah. You know how you said he was going home after the reunion? Well, I ran into him in the parking lot of a bar just outside of town where he was drunk and feeling up some escort. When I cussed him out he attacked me and I retaliated. I went too far and that was that. I didn’t wanna tell you because, well, y’know…” He shrugged. 

He could see confusion glimmering in your eyes as you struggled to understand the facts presented to you. Sukuna was banking on the assumption that your only evidence of Kashimo’s death came from the items hidden in the bathroom. If you had any further info then his construction could easily crumble. 

“No. Kashimo wasn’t- he wouldn’t... He was never violent to me, I don’t- I don’t believe you.” 

It seemed like even you were surprised to hear those words falling from your lips, an awkward guilt clouding over your face, as if ashamed with yourself for being unwilling to immediately believe the love of your life. 

“Yeah, well, if what Satoru stumbled across on his Myspace is anything to go by, you didn’t know him very well at all,” Sukuna pointed out. 

Again you were silent, chewing on your lip for a few moments. Sukuna was getting antsy, wishing he was a mind-reader so that he could take away the difficulty of playing this game with you. He wanted to inject the correct thoughts directly into your head to avoid any chance at losing you. 

He wanted you to be his willingly. He wanted you to accept him for exactly who he was. 

“That doesn’t make it okay. You killed someone, Sukuna. Even if he attacked you, you can’t just kill-” 

“We’ve both killed someone. Sometimes it has to happen. How would you like it if I told you that it was wrong to kill Mahito? You’d say I was victim-blaming.” Perhaps his manipulation was a little-heavy handed there, because you looked like you’d been struck across the face. Maybe that was exactly what was needed though - some comparison to help you realise that it wasn’t all that different. 

No one mattered outside of you and him. 

Mahito’s worth was identical to Kashimo’s. Just as Kashimo’s worth was identical to Ryu’s. The whole world was made up of nothing more than bags of meat with the exception of you. You were the only one with a shining, glimmering soul that he so desperately had to possess. 

“It’s not the same!” Your voice was all wobbly, and fresh tears started dripping down your cheeks, dissolving you into a mess of sobs. “Oh god, oh god. This is so fucked.” You were mumbling into your knees, making it hard to hear your words. 

Sukuna didn’t have much interest in what you had to say anyway. It was all irrelevant, nothing more than a kneejerk emotional reaction which he was going to correct. You were just shocked, that was all.

He took your condition as an opportunity, sitting down beside you on the couch and wrapping his arms tightly around your shaking body. Resting his chin atop your head, he tucked you close against him, savouring the warmth of you pressed against his side just like always. You tensed up for a moment, but remained there all the same. 

If he was right in his belief, you were just as incapable of pushing him away as he was at parting with you. 

“Just breathe baby,” he murmured, listening to your sobs and stroking your hair. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll always keep you safe. Everything I do is to protect you, to keep you happy. Weren’t you glad when we killed Mahito? You were grateful to have me there then. This is no different. I’ll do whatever it takes to look after you.”

“But Kashimo isn’t- wasn’t like Mahito! He never-” Your voice came out muffled and panicked, and Sukuna cut you off before you could finish, tightening his grip on you. 

“There was an axe in his car, y’know? A load of tape and rope too. We didn’t say it to you because we didn’t wanna scare you, but on the guy’s private Myspace account he’d made loads of posts about certain fetishes - cannibalism and stuff. It kinda seemed like he wanted to do it to you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t a good guy.” 

More sniffles sounded from you, but you said nothing. Sukuna wasn’t quite sure if you quite believed him, but didn’t labour the point any further. If he tried to over explain it would only make him look like a liar, and he needed you to retain some level of trust towards him. 

“I only ever want to look after you, baby. I’ll never be ashamed of doing that. I’d dispose of anyone who hurts you, that’s what it means to love. To kill for you is an ultimate expression of my love, it's my love language, I need you to see that baby.”

For a long time you were silent, completely frozen within his grip. He took that as a win, if things were dire you’d be squirming and struggling to escape, but still you remained beneath his touch, allowing proximity with a person who'd just admitted to disposing of one of your previous lovers. 

It meant you could be convinced.

“It’s your love language?” You murmured quietly.

“Yeah.” 

The cogs were turning steadily in your brain, and you slowly withdrew yourself from him. Your eyes were glassy as you peered up at him, horror and worry shining through the tears gathering at your lashline. 

“Kashimo wasn’t the only one, was he?” Your voice came out small and uncertain. 

He wasn’t going to lie to you. Not now you’d come this far.

“No. He wasn’t.” 

“Ryu?” You asked shakily. 

“Yeah. Yorozu too.” 

“Fuck. No. No, no, no. Please, this can’t be happening.” You began to scratch and scrape at the skin of your arms, as if trying to awaken yourself from a nightmare. Your nails started to tear at the skin, drawing shallow lines of red to the surface. Sukuna was quick to stop you, grabbing both your wrists with one hand and holding you still. 

The fear that flickered in your eyes was unpleasant, paired with a clear resignation that you could do little to overpower Sukuna if it ever came to that. If he called upon even the slightest amount of strength you couldn’t escape him, let alone if he actually tried. 

“Stop that, baby. You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“I’m already hurt, Sukuna! You hurt me, you ruined-” your tone went all high pitched as you were overtaken by a sob, brows furrowed you tried your best to continue. “Ryu’s death broke me! I spent years in a spiral wondering who could’ve done such a thing, fearing that same thing happening to me, regretting cheating on him the day he died, but it was you! You caused all my misery! You killed my boyfriend and then fucked me while his body was still warm? Oh my god, Yuki was right. What the fuck am I doing?” 

Sukuna tried not to let his irritation show at the mention of Yuki, alerting you to his annoyance only via the tightening of his grip upon your wrists. 

“Did I cause your misery? Because I think you’d still be with Ryu right now if he didn’t die. I think you’d have a baby on your hip, stuck at home cooking his dinner all the while wondering what woman he was out fucking instead of you. You’d be dreaming about me, about the life we have right now, wishing you had this rather than being stuck with that asshole.” 

He saw your eyes widen in horror, and he couldn’t help but let the ghost of a smile slip onto his face. You were so easy to read, so painfully predictable in the things that would cut you deepest.

“I’m sorry for your misery back then, I really am. But you needed it for your own happiness - needed it to lead you into my arms. Can you really deny that’s where you belong? You’re still letting me touch you now, still let me fuck you last night, still clung to me like you never wanted me to escape your grasp. So don’t lie to me and claim you aren’t happy. That misery was worth it.” 

You blinked dumbly a couple of times, your shoulders sagging in resignation. It was clear that you weren’t completely on board, but nor did you have the certainty to bite back against what he was saying. You loved him, you still loved him despite it all, and he knew it. You didn’t want to throw away what you’d built together - it was why you’d curled up at his side the night before rather than flee from him. 

“You don’t know that,” you murmured. 

“Oh but I do. We both do. You’re meant to be with me, we’re made for each other.”

The silence stretched out once more, and Sukuna reached for you. His fingers brushed against your face, and a tremor ran through your body. Still, you made no effort to push him away, letting him dry your tears. His crimson eyes were fixed on you with great adoration, proud at how nicely you were sitting before him. 

Making no attempt to run. 

It pleased him. He had a contingency if you tried to dart away - he was faster and stronger and he’d hold you down and tie you up until you were ready to listen to reason. But he really didn’t want to resort to that.

“Baby, I just don’t think you’re good at making your own decisions, so let me make them for you. There’s too many people who want to take advantage of you and your happiness and I’ll cut through them all. I’ll keep you happy and safe and I’ll give you everything. Please just understand. You don’t have to even think about it - don’t worry about a thing.”

More tears dripped from your eyes, and he caught them easily with his thumb. You looked beautiful at the best of times, but he always liked the way you looked most when you were crying. He enjoyed the sight of you all helpless beside him, your face contorted with a despair that only he could comfort. 

“How can I stop thinking about this?” You asked. “I can’t- things can’t go back to the way they were before now that I know all this. We need to stop- this needs to stop.” Your hand moved to your stomach, and the sudden horror of realisation crept into your expression. “All of this needs to stop.”

“No.” Sukuna said simply. 

He spoke calmly, but inside a rage was simmering. He knew what you were implying - that not only should you break up, but you should get rid of the baby too. That was simply unacceptable to him. Not when he’d worked so hard. 

“Don’t be stupid, baby. Do you really think you can live a life without me? You were miserable before I came into your life, do you really think you wouldn’t be miserable after?”

He leaned closer to you, so close that his breath was fanning against your face, his lips almost brushing against yours. His hand moved down to your chest, pressing down to feel your fluttering heartbeat. 

“I’m the same man I was before you found any of this out, so what does it change? I know you love me, I know you want me. It changes nothing. We’re going to be happy, we’ll be together, we’ll be a family - because I know that’s what you want.” He paused, observing the way your eyes darted nervously, hanging on his every word. “You can’t live without me anymore. Admit it.” 

“But what if I can’t live with you either?” The question came out all meek, barely loud enough for Sukuna to hear it. “How do I know that one day you’re not gonna turn around and kill me?” 

Your eyes were shiny with terror as you met his gaze, and Sukuna found himself incapable of holding back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. You looked so sweet, all scared below him and yet still leaning into his touch, still making no effort to put distance between the two of you. For all your words of opposition, he didn’t believe you’d act on any of it. 

Even if you were disgusted by his actions, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be anything but attracted to him, still clinging to the relationship like it was the only thing worth having. There you were, voicing a fear that he’d kill you, and you couldn’t even find the will to scamper away. God, he was pleased with himself. He hadn’t realised just how deeply he’d dug his claws into you. 

“Because then my life would have no purpose,” Sukuna said. “Everything I do, I do for you. I don’t kill for sport or pleasure, I kill out of a devotion for you - a gift to make your life easier, if you like. I would sooner pluck my own eyes from their sockets before I would bring you any harm. You’re the most precious thing in my universe, the only thing I cherish. I promise you, with me you’ll always be safe.” 

Miraculously, your eyes seemed to light up. A soft blush blossomed across your cheeks and you quickly lowered your face as if to obscure it from him. Still, he’d seen it, he was aware that the words had struck a chord. You were still clinging to morality, trying to put your foot down - but it was fruitless. 

You loved him. 

That was all there was to it. 

Through the good and the bad, you still desired him. 

“But those were gifts I didn’t want. We would’ve found our way together despite it all, now everything’s just so fucked up,” you murmured. 

“I wasn’t taking that chance.” 

Sukuna’s fingers found your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His lips brushed yours tentatively before kissing you, drawing you in close to him. You could’ve pulled back, could’ve shoved him away - you did neither. Instead, you kissed him back, parting your lips when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, letting him move on top of you - pressing you back down onto the sofa. 

“I’ve always needed you to be mine.” He whispered upon breaking this kiss. “Since the day we met. When it comes to you I won’t take any chances, I want you at my side for all eternity. My soul calls for yours and I know yours calls for mine. I know you want to let this all go, to accept me as I am. So do it, just do it, baby. I’m yours as you are mine.”

“Sukuna-” 

“Please, baby. I love you. Please. I’ll give you a life you’ve only ever dreamed of.” His lips were pressing kisses all over your face, practically worshipping your body. He hoped his affection was enough to convince you of his devotion and remind you just how much you loved him.

“Sukuna, was the Mahito thing even real? Was that- was that your fault too?” Your voice came out all shaky, and he got the idea that the answer to that question was pivotal in your judgement of him. 

He was wounded you’d believe he’d be part of such a heinous plan. 

Sure, he was a killer, but he’d never hire some psycho to rough up you and your friends - that was a step too far. 

“Fuck no. Baby, I already said I’d never do anything to hurt you. I liked Shoko, and finding that house eerily silent was one of the scariest nights of my life. I wanted to rip that guy to pieces with my bare hands and I probably would’ve if you weren’t in the room.” 

Swallowing, you nodded slowly, clearly grateful for the fact that he at least wasn’t responsible for that. Still you seemed nervous, eyes a little unfocussed as he continued to kiss you. He was watching you carefully, trying to puzzle out where your mind was going, but struggling to read your largely vacant expression. 

He wanted to make it all better, wanted to find a way to make you understand that everything was going to be okay. You couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were currently in the midst of shock - that in a few days time you’d be able to view everything with more objectivity and weigh up how much more worth your relationship held when compared to those measly lives Sukuna had taken. 

“Without you I would’ve been raped and killed by Mahito,” you said slowly. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

There was no telling what might’ve actually happened, but he supposed that was probably a true enough guess. 

“Without you, I’d be Ryu’s depressed little housewife, or a victim of Kashimo’s fetish.” Again, the words came out slowly, as if you were trying to process them yourself. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself of them, and that fact made him very happy. 

He knew you were a little broken, but seeing you jump through so many mental hoops to justify him had his heart racing. You were so perfect, so well trained, he really did want to keep you forever. 

“Exactly. You get it, baby. I’m just trying to protect you. Everything I ever do, it’s all for you.” He nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your cheeks. “I love you. You’re so happy with me, I see it. We can be a perfect little family. Hell, we can start over somewhere else, get out of this dead-end town and really make it. Wouldn’t that be nice? Just you and me, no distractions?” 

No Yuki, no influence from your parents. That was Sukuna’s dream scenario.

He was staring down at you like a cat who had just dropped a dead bird at your feet. He was so pleased with himself, so proud of all he’d done, so proud of his plans for your future. He understood how you could be disgusted by his actions, but he needed you to see it for what it was. 

This was love. 

It was love that most people were never capable of achieving or experiencing. It was devotion in its rawest form, and he knew that you’d be able to see it with just a little time. 

“I love you too,” you whispered shakily, the words leaving his heart racing. “I don’t want this to end. I’ve got so little to hold on to. After Mahito I feel so lonely and hopeless, I can’t- I don’t want-” the words came out choked, and you let out another breathy sob, cutting yourself off. 

Again, Sukuna dried your tears. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. All you have to do is accept me, and I’ll keep you safe forever. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you have me. I’ll love you as long as I’m still living. Just accept me for what I am. Accept my love as it is.” 

And for that evening at least, you did. 

No more words were spoken on the matter. You lost yourself in his kisses, giving yourself to him wholly as you had so many times before, letting his hands roam your body freely, just as they always would. You kissed him like you might never kiss him again, with a passion that had his head spinning, leaving him desperate for more. 

He showed you his devotion in the only way he knew how, thanking you silently for not running from him, by lowering himself between your legs - pushing your thighs apart and feasting on you until you were twitching and whining his name. Your hands were in his hair just as they always were, winding between the strands needily. 

And just like the night before, when he took you to his bed he filled you with a romance and love reserved solely for that very situation. Now that you knew him fully, he would give you everything he’d ever held back - he’d make love to you as something truly sacred, something to be cherished and loved until the end of his days. 

Perhaps even beyond that. 

And as he’d drifted off to sleep with you firmly in his grip, he’d been naive enough to believe that was the end of it - that you had chosen him and forgiven all that had been uncovered. You were so enchanting to him that he couldn’t even consider the idea that you weren’t fully resolved in your decision. 

Awakening hours later to a cold bed had him feeling like a bucket of ice cold water had been tipped over his head. 

It was a feeling that only grew at the sight of a neatly penned letter left on the dresser on your side of his bed. 

Sukuna,

I'm sorry but I can’t do this. I love you, I really do, but you need serious help. I never wanted you to kill for me. I don’t want you to keep killing for me. I think it’s better for both of us if we put an end to it here. I don’t want to live a life stained by death anymore and you shouldn’t either. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done, I think you need to move on too. 

I’m sorry. Goodbye. 

Sukuna stared at it for a few minutes before calmly placing it back down on the dresser. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he took a deep breath and gathered himself before swiftly getting dressed. 

You couldn’t just leave him, the two of you were soulmates.

 The note made it clear you still loved him, as did all of your actions from just a few hours prior, which meant there was no chance in hell that he was letting you slip through his fingers. You were just scared and confused and needed him to set you straight just like always.

And he could do that easily. 

—

The rain had practically soaked you through by the time you reached Yuki’s place. 

You hadn’t risked wasting time packing anything - hadn’t even wanted to chance the rustling of putting on a rain jacket before fleeing Sukuna’s apartment. He had never been the heaviest sleeper, and you were certain he’d been more alert than usual that evening following your conversation. 

So you’d stumbled out in nothing but one of Sukuna’s hoodies and your pyjama trousers, slipping your feet into a pair of trainers and running with nothing in your possession except your phone, wallet, and Sukuna’s gun. 

It was nearly 1am when you rang Yuki’s doorbell, praying that she’d answer, hoping that she’d even want to deal with you after the sour nature of your previous meeting. 

She’d been right about it all. Sukuna was rotten. He’d killed and he’d killed and you were certain that he’d never stop killing. And the worst part was that there was a sick part of you that could see the romance in it all - a horrible, rotten aspect of your mind that could accept it. 

Kashimo, Ryu, and Yorozu had all wronged you in their own ways - had all caused you pain that Sukuna had so lovingly culled. It was wrong, it was evil, you knew that. But that didn’t stop it from being romantic. Nor did it prevent a sick part of you from loving him for it.

Because his words reminding you of your happiness weren’t wrong. You had been happy with him. He’d given you everything you’d ever wanted, even if he’d had to take to achieve that in the first place. You’d still be happy with him now, if you closed your eyes to the elephant in the room and let him treat you as he always had. 

That had been an attractive prospect when you’d laid there in his arms contemplating your escape, because you were certain that you’d never stop loving him, no matter what happened, no matter how much time passed. And you were certain that if you’d stayed there in his arms until the morning, you would’ve stayed forever. 

It was why you’d forced yourself out. 

For the sake of everyone else in the world, you couldn’t stay at his side. You couldn’t abide by his nature, or the sick and twisted definition he had of love when it came to you. You couldn’t allow any further corruption by his hands. This was the one chance you had to end it before it would all be too late for you, before you’d willingly allow yourself to fall into his grasp and stay there for all eternity.

Yuki looked exhausted as she opened the door, chestnut eyes widening in surprise at the sight of you dripping water all over her porch. 

You weren’t sure why you’d gone to seek her out over your parents - perhaps it was a subconscious choice of safety, for you knew that Sukuna was more than capable of breaking into your childhood bedroom at your parents house, and that was likely the first place he’d go to seek you out. 

Besides, you didn’t wish to explain the situation to your parents. You were far too exhausted for that. 

“Are you okay? It’s the middle of the night.” 

“Yuki I-” you hesitated, and fresh tears bubbled up in your eyes. Yuki took stock of your haggard face, concern lining her brow. You deserved better than her - even after everything she was still worried about you. “Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Come on, let's get you dried up. You’re gonna freeze out here.” Her voice was soothing, and her arm came to wrap around your shoulder, guiding you into her home. 

She wasn’t pushy with you, hurrying about turning on lights and brewing some tea. She instructed you to head to her room and pick some dry clothes to change into, considering you were visibly shivering. You weren’t sure if the tremors were coming from the cold or from the adrenaline of fleeing your boyfriend in the middle of the night. 

Your heart panged at the thought of him still in bed, the desire to run back into his arms building in your chest. 

You made your best effort to squash it back down. 

Once changed into one of Yuki’s sweaters and a pair of comfy shorts, you headed back down to the living room where your friend was waiting. A hot mug of tea was set out on the coffee table, and Yuki draped a blanket over you the moment you sat down in your space on her sofa. 

“You look exhausted,” she said. 

It was a neutral statement, one that you imagined had been picked carefully. After your last conversation, Yuki seemed wary of you - overly aware that she was walking through a minefield and subsequently straying well clear of things that could immediately sour the evening. If you weren’t in total crisis mode you probably would’ve laughed at the irony of her avoiding attacking Sukuna the one time you were open to hearing it. 

“It’s been a long night.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. You wanted to tell her everything, eager to burst into tears and rerun every terrible thing you’d learned over the last twenty-four hours. But you couldn’t. There was a loyalty to Sukuna engraved deep within you, one that wanted to preserve his safety even after everything. If you told Yuki the truth she’d make you call the police. 

You didn’t want that for him. 

So you changed the subject. 

“Is Choso not here?” You asked. They’d been living together for a little while, and you’d been surprised when Yuki had sent you up to her bedroom to get some dry clothes, figuring that Choso would be sleeping in there. You were surprised to find an empty bed. 

“No…” She hesitated. “He’s been busy lately, staying with his bandmates and stuff. Things have been a bit difficult between us since- well, you know. I don’t like being touched anymore. That can strain a relationship.” 

You lowered your head in shame. You’d barely discussed Yuki and her wellbeing the last time you’d seen her - all you’d done was get angry when she attacked Sukuna. At the time that had seemed like the right choice, but now you just felt stupid. Even if you hadn’t asked him about it directly, there was no doubt in your mind that Sukuna had left Yuki to her fate back at the lakehouse. 

He’d made it abundantly clear that the only person he cared about was you. 

And you’d had the audacity to call Yuki a liar.

“Why are you here?” She asked, clearly no more keen to discuss the topic of Choso than you were to discuss Sukuna. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I don’t think someone ever shows up in the middle of the night for a good reason. Especially not looking as miserable as you do.” 

It was clear that she’d already connected some dots in her mind, her eyes darting towards your stomach for a miniscule moment. She knew that Sukuna was the root cause of your presence, but you were certain she had little understanding of the true extent of your despair. Either way, she stayed silent, urging you to speak first before she imparted any judgement. 

She’d learned from the last time. 

“I’ve been so stupid, Yuki.” 

She opened her mouth to respond, probably to agree, but she clearly thought better of it, remaining quiet once again and allowing you to continue. 

“Sukuna- he-” you realised that you didn’t even know where to start - not unless you wanted to spill the whole story. “I can’t have his baby,” you said finally. “I just- I can’t.” 

Yuki leant forward, again she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Did something happen? You seemed…happy with him the other day.” You were grateful for her decision to glaze over the details there - you’d had plenty of terrible moments throughout your friendship, but at the end of the day you’d always be able to move on and find solace in each other.

You nodded, your gaze trained on the ground. You were aware of how badly Yuki wanted to push, her desperation for details poorly disguised. It was no secret that she’d been waiting for this moment, standing by patiently until Sukuna finally slipped up and forced you to open up your eyes. 

“What-” she hesitated, before seemingly reframing her question. “Why did you run from him in the middle of the night?” 

“So he couldn’t convince me to stay.” 

That was just the problem with Sukuna, with you. As long as he was conscious, he was perfectly capable of talking you into anything. Even now, outside of his direct sphere of influence, you were still second guessing all of your decisions, wondering if it was best to keep your mouth shut and go running back to his side. 

“Why would he have to convince you?” Yuki asked, pulling at the string of conversation with great care, as if certain it would snap and you’d clam up if she said the wrong thing. To her you were a ticking time bomb, ready to blow if her actions were the slightest bit off the mark. You wished you hadn’t gained that reputation with her. 

You were a shitty friend. You knew it. 

“I thought you were happy.” She emphasised again, when her question was met with only silence. 

Shuffling uncomfortably on the sofa, you drew your knees up to your chest, hugging them against you in an attempt to console yourself. It felt odd to have to comfort yourself like that - you’d grown so accustomed to Sukuna’s presence, to strong arms wrapping tightly around you and shielding you from any bad thoughts that would come your way. It had become so familiar that you’d almost forgotten how to look after yourself. 

How could you condemn him like you were? All he’d done was be good to you. 

If only you’d never found out. If only the cat had stayed in the bag where it belonged. 

Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke, mumbling into your knees. You didn’t really want her to hear, but you were certain she’d be unwilling to drop the topic. “He’s done- there’ve been some bad things. You were right, oh god, I’ve just been so stupid. I’m sorry.” 

“What things?” She asked, brown eyes wide with alarm. “Babe, what has he done?” She brushed aside the worry in your tone, leaning forward with interest. She didn’t want to hear your sobs and apologies, she wanted to hear the truth. 

And that was the one thing you couldn’t provide to her. 

“I can’t- I said I wouldn’t-” your breathing picked up, your loyalty to Sukuna crushing at your windpipe, keeping any words buried within your chest. You wouldn’t betray him. You were certain that you couldn’t even if your mind had wanted to. Your body loved him with a ferocity that was unmatched. 

To turn on him was unthinkable. 

“Please. You can tell me.” Yuki was pleading with you. She’d stood up from her position on the couch, kneeling down in front of you, a hand brushing against your knee. “You look like a mess. Whatever happened, it's okay, I won’t get mad at you or say I told you so or any of that shit. I’m here, but you need to let me help you.” 

Yuki’s words were kind and caring. They were the right thing for her to say in the moment - exactly what you’d want to hear from a friend who you’d asked for help from in the middle of the night. And yet, a flicker of irritation ignited within you. You hated how enthusiastic she seemed about the situation, how ready she was to condemn Sukuna, like she’d been waiting for this the whole time. 

She believed that he’d hurt you. You could see it in her eyes, in that sympathy that flickered within those chestnut irises. And you hated it, because she didn’t understand at all. Sukuna would never hurt you, and you’d never hurt him. 

Not physically, mentally, or socially. 

You weren’t going to betray him. You’d run from him for the sake of protecting those around you, for the sake of letting Sukuna heal from the obsession you’d ignited within him. You hadn’t run out of fear or hatred, but out of an awareness that it was for the best.

“Do we need to call the police?” Yuki’s voice drew you back to reality, a fresh wave of revulsion coursing through you. The last thing you wanted was for the police to be involved. You wanted Sukuna to be able to live, wanted everything to be swept under the rug because you knew his life had more potential than years of imprisonment. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“No, no.” Gently, you pushed Yuki’s hand away, shuffling back from her ever so slightly. She seemed a little shocked, perhaps even disappointed. “I can’t talk about it, I just- I need to get my head in order, I’m so fucking tired…”

Yuki bit her lip nervously, clearly trying to think up a way to convince you of sharing more. There was little that would be effective on you that evening. The feeling of Sukuna’s body on top of yours, filling you up with his warmth, was still overly present in your mind. You held a great fondness for him that hadn’t even begun to fade, and for that reason all of Yuki’s suggestions would fall upon deaf ears. 

It had taken all of your willpower simply to leave, and that resolve was only hanging by a meagre thread. It was nothing more than a valiant attempt to cling to morality, to remind yourself that you had suffered at Sukuna’s hands. But still your heart betrayed you, begging you to go back and swaddle yourself in the happiness that your lover always brought you. 

To do any more than simply walk out his apartment required a drive that you just didn’t have. 

“If he’s done something you need to-” 

“Yuki, please.” Your voice came out all shaky, tears once again prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Just let me go to sleep. I can’t do this right now. Tomorrow I’ll- tomorrow I’ll try. But please, just let me be for now.”

She wasn’t happy, but she relented all the same, her shoulders dropping in defeat. She offered you a sympathetic smile, and you supposed that she was trying to reason with herself that a promise of tomorrow was better than nothing at all. 

“Okay. That’s okay, I get it. Get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning,” she said, bidding you goodnight and sending you off to your room. 

Heading up to the spare room, you were only able to hold it together long enough for the door to shut behind you. The second you were alone, the sobs wracked your body once more, and you flung yourself down onto the bed, hiding your tears in the sheets below. Your traitorous mind wished it was Sukuna’s chest you were buried against, your imagination summoning his scent to your nostrils, even in that room where he’d never been. 

You wondered if he was still asleep - curled up in his bed all wrapped up in some nice dream in which you were still there in his arms. That was where you wished you were, where your heart longed to be despite everything. 

God, what was wrong with you? 

The pain in your heart felt unbearable, as though some essential part of you had been ripped clean from your chest. You were terrified at the idea of going back to him, terrified at the thought of what he might do to every person you’d ever cared for in your life. But you were also terrified of a life without him. 

A loneliness would creep into that empty space in your chest, calling out for him, longing for the other half who you loved so deeply. 

You were doing what was right. Staying far away from him was best for everyone. You were the one who had made him crazy - maybe without you he could live a normal life. And yet, jealousy crept up your throat at the thought of him moving on and loving someone else. You wanted his devotion, you wanted him. 

Really, you were just as bad as each other.

Somewhere in your soul you’d always known there was something wrong. Always had that nagging suspicion that Sukuna was far more dangerous than he presented himself as. And you’d ignored it. You’d loved him all the same, against all warnings. 

Now it had to stop. 

You had to stay away before the rot that bloomed between the two of you spread any further than it already had. 

So through all your tears, you turned off your phone rather than calling him like you wanted to, and you crawled into the bed. Ryu didn’t deserve his fate. Neither did Kashimo. That was what you had to keep reminding yourself of. For all Sukuna’s talk of his love language and his desire to protect you, his penchant for murder was nothing so beautiful. 

It was cruel and cold. Not romantic. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to see romance in it - no matter how significantly Sukuna’s explanation might have swayed you to understand it that way. Nothing he’d done was normal, and none of it was okay, and you needed to hold onto that belief and stay away so long as you wanted to retain your own humanity. 

God, you were pathetic. 

How had you ended up where you were? Sad and alone and pining for a man whose hands were stained red with blood. 

If only you’d never met eyes with Sukuna all those years ago, perhaps you’d be living a different life. A life unburdened by death and decisions that all led to your misery. 

But you knew somewhere within you that was nothing more than a fantasy. You and Sukuna had always been destined for each other - one day he would’ve found you, no matter what. He’d always find you. You were two halves of one soul, no matter how hard you tried to condemn him and deny it. 

Really, you’d been stupid to even believe that you could make it through a single night apart after trying to flee from him. 

He’d never let you go. 

You’d huddled yourself tighter between the sheets at the sound of the window rattling and sliding open, wishing you could make the last forty-eight hours disappear if you just willed it hard enough. There was a soft thud of someone dropping into the room, quiet footsteps making their way over to the bed and hesitating beside the lump of your body hidden beneath the duvet. 

Fear gripped your body, and you wished that fear was born from something primal - a fear of him hurting you or killing you where you lay. But it wasn’t. No, your fear came from the depths of your heart, because you knew that the moment your gaze fell upon those crimson eyes, all of your resolve would vanish, never to be recovered again. 

And he would’ve finally succeeded at rotting you from the inside out. 

A hand fell upon your body, stroking at your form through the duvet cover. It was a touch that felt familiar even with the barrier between the two of you. It was all you could do to not lean into it, to not seek out the warmth that his body had always provided. 

How could the hands of a murderer be so warm? How could they feel so gentle and pleasant against your skin? 

“Come on, baby. I know you’re awake.” His voice sent a shiver straight through you - one that shook your body so violently that it earned you a deep chuckle from him. You hated how attracted you were to the sound, how it summoned heat to your core. 

You were repulsive. 

“Don’t shy away from me now,” he purred.

Fingers gripped the edge of the sheets and tore them from their position atop you - any hope of denying him fading as his handsome face came into view. There was fury and hurt in his gaze, an anger possessing his body that he was barely keeping from seeping into his otherwise even tone. 

“Come on. We can work this out.”

a/n: reader genuinely needs therapy but instead she's got manipulator prime making life harder for her :(

anyway next chapter will be the finale, so tune in to find out if sukuna gets his way or if yuki saves our girl!

hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3

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When the door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise, Sukuna was sitting alone on the low bench. His fight shorts hung low at his hips, exposing the sharp v-line of his torso, and his broad chest was already slick with a sheen of pre-fight sweat. In the dim atmosphere, the black tattoos covering his wide shoulders and ribs flexed with every deep, slow exhale he took. The fighter looked up, dark eyes locking onto yours, his messy salmon-pink hair damp against his forehead.

You didn't say a word, just stepped up to him with a fresh roll of thick white cotton gauze in your hands. The moment you slotted yourself perfectly between his thick thighs and sank into his lap, those muscular arms instantly wrapped around you. One heavy forearm locked across the small of your back—trapping you securely against him. The scent of your perfume immediately cut through the sharp, medicinal tang of liniment and deodorant filling the space between you.

The silence held fast—broken only by the slight rustle of fabric. You grabbed Sukuna’s big, scarred hand and grazed his blistered knuckles. Slowly, you pulled the white cloth taut over his calloused skin, smoothing it down.

As you focused on the final turns, Sukuna leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The heat radiating off his body was scorching, his damp, pink hair scratching lightly against your skin as he pressed a slow row of warm kisses against your throat. “You done?” he asked quietly against your skin, flexing his fingers beneath the fresh gauze—testing your work.

You giggled as the short strands and the warmth of his lips tickled your skin. You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, your thumb lingering over the finished wrap. “Keep your hands steady,” you whispered, smoothing out the white gauze.

“Are you nervous?” you asked softly.

Of course he had to be, you thought to yourself. This was the championship finals. The highest stakes imaginable. In less than ten minutes, he was either walking out there to claim the gold belt, or he was coming back to this exact room with a bruised face, a busted lip, and the bitter taste of defeat. The pressure was enough to crush anyone.

“Nah” he said softly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I've already won.”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips at his playful confidence, and before you could tease him back, Sukuna’s wrapped hand slid down the back of your thigh—his fingers sliding right beneath the hem of your denim skirt. With a strong grip, he lifted your leg up and guided your thighs wide, moving you so you were fully straddling his lap.

The movement instantly bunched the stiff denim fabric all the way up to your hips. Your bare thighs and the plump, soft flesh of your ass were left entirely exposed on his lap, with your simple grey cotton panties serving as the only barrier between you.

Sukuna didn't give you a chance to speak, his other hand instantly coming up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled you down into a deep kiss. His mouth parted yours easily, his tongue sliding inside with a hungry rhythm that tasted faintly of copper and

mint. A soft gasp escaped your throat—completely swallowed by his lips as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling yourself against his chest.

Unable to help yourself, you shifted your weight—your hips instinctively rolling forward. You ground your clothed cunt right against him, the grey cotton of your underwear rubbing directly over his aching cock.

Sukuna let out a low and rough breath into the kiss, his hand sliding up from your thigh to slide over your bare, exposed cheek. His rough fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing it with a grip that anchored your hips right against his. His other hand trailed down to grip your hip—rocking you back and forth.

The fabric of his fight shorts offered no cushioning, letting you feel every rigid inch of his heavy length straining hard beneath the flat velcro waistband. He continued to rock you, pulling you harder against him with every roll of your hips. You whined into his mouth, your hips rolling desperately against his hard bulge until your core throbbed.

Sukuna broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his lips dragging across your cheek to your ear, his chest heaving against yours. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, a rough breathless laugh catching in his throat as your desperate grinds threatened to break his control before the bell even rang.

He stood up with you trapped against his chest. And in two heavy strides, Sukuna laid you onto the high training table. The short denim skirt rode all the way up your hips, with the cold wood biting into the bare skin of your lower back and thighs.

His hands gripped your knees and guided them back, flexing your legs wide as he stepped deeply in between them. Sukuna pressed his hard bulge against your clothed cunt—letting you feel exactly how thick and hard he was for you under his gear.

Slowly, his large hand slid down between your thighs, his palm flattening over the front of your plain, soft grey panties. He didn't pull them down yet. Instead, his fingers began to trace the shape of your damp folds through the fabric, outlining the plump, aching shape. Pressing his thumb hard against your clit, circling it—making a pathetic whimper catch in your throat.

As his fingers worked over the damp grey fabric, Sukuna leaned his weight forward, slowly driving his thick bulge straight into your clothed heat. The sleek material of his fight shorts slid against your soaked panties, pinning you firmly to the wood with every slow hitch of his pelvis.

Your excitement had completely soaked through the material—the grey cotton was almost translucent, darkening from the moisture and sticking directly to your sensitive, swollen folds. Every time he shifted his weight or rubbed his thumb over you, the damp cloth dragged intimately against your clit.

Sukuna leaned down, his eyes locked on yours, watching your expression fracture. “Look at you” he said with a smirk, as his thumb took one more slow dragging stroke along the damp seam before he finally hooked two fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He slid the wet grey fabric down your legs with an impatient pull—letting it drop to the floor.

Sukuna dropped to his knees, broad shoulders wedging your thighs even wider, pinning your legs back until you were completely spread out for him.

“So fucking wet already. The only lucky charm I need.” He let his breath coat your swollen, slick

folds, watching the way you shuddered just from the heat of him. Your core was oozing onto the wooden table, the wet skin glistening under the lights, and a low satisfied breath escaped his chest at the sight. And when his tongue finally made contact, he slid it from the very bottom of your opening all the way up through your slick folds to your throbbing clit in one slow, deep lick.

A sharp gasp caught your throat, your teeth immediately sinking into your lower lip as your hips twitched against the hard table.

“Stay still for me,” he mumbled against your heat, lips flattening against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud entirely into his mouth. Sukuna rested his heavy forearms over your thighs as he lapped your throbbing cunt heavily, his tongue working in aggressive upward swipes through your slick folds, that mirrored the pace of a hard, dirty fuck.

He dragged it out—taking his time to torment you, his tongue flattening to lap broad strokes from your opening to your clit, before narrowing to swirl his wet tongue on the sensitive bud until you were whining, the sound echoing in the concrete room.

Suddenly, rushed footsteps and raised voices echoed right outside the door—the loud, frantic calls of his manager and officials checking the halls. Panicking at the noise, you instantly clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling a loud cry as his tongue swirled over your clit.

Sukuna paused for a second, looking up from between your thighs with amused eyes. He gripped your wrist, firmly pulling your hand away from your face and pinning it down against the table.

“Tryna be quiet?” he murmured.

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the voices faded down the corridor. “They’ve heard you before.”

“Sukuna, please, someone's gonna—” you gasped out, your words dissolving into a broken moan as his tongue slammed right back into your wetness.

“Mm…yeah, you like that?” Sukuna hummed with a grin.

Your eyes fluttered back, vision blurring as you looked at the dim ceiling “M-mhm…I do…please…” Fingers instantly tangling into his damp salmon-pink hair, gripping the short strands tightly as you tried to pull him even closer against you. “F-fuck…” you gasped out as your back slightly arched off the wood, your lip digging into your teeth again trying and failing to stifle the ragged whimpers escaping you.

The booming chant of the crowd outside blended with the wet, squelching sounds of his mouth devouring you. You could smell his deodorant, his sweat sticking onto your skin, feel the scratch of his short pink hair against your lower stomach, and the burning touch of his wrapped fingers spreading your wet folds wide so he could dig his tongue even deeper into your pulsing core.

Then, he pushed two thick, gauze-wrapped fingers inside of your cunt.

The rough texture of the tape dragged against your sensitive walls—the friction so sharp it made you sob, your walls clamping tightly around the texture. Sukuna let out a low grunt, immediately taking advantage of how your tightness was sucking his fingers in. He began to pump his fingers hard and fast, the rough gauze dragging in and out of your oozing heat, perfectly hitting your g-spot with every thrust while his tongue continued to lap and suck your clit.

A ragged chain of whines and moans slipped out of your lips while your hands desperately tightened their grip on his hair. The contrast of his rough tape inside your cunt and the soaking wet heat from his mouth against your folds was driving you over the edge. You could feel yourself building, the pressure pooling heavily in your lower stomach until you were trembling from head to toe.

“Sukuna—please, I’m gonna—”

“Give it to me” he murmured against your core. “Right here. Let me taste it.”

He accelerated the pace, his fingers shoving deep and fast, your internal walls contracting violently around the tough gauze. The intense friction snapped the last of your control and your orgasm hit like a physical blow, your back arching off the cold table as your eyes fluttered shut. Your internal muscles were completely squeezing and spasming around Sukuna’s wrapped fingers.

And finally your wave of release flooded out, soaking his hands and spilling directly onto his fingers, the gauze soaking it in as you whimpered, your toes curling slightly and thighs trembling against his broad shoulders as you came hard against his knuckles.

Sukuna didn't back off—he stayed put there, drinking you down greedily, swallowing every drop of your release while his fingers continued to slowly pump inside your wet folds, wringing out every last, fading spasm of your climax, letting his knuckles coat themselves completely in your wetness. He didn't stop until your frantic breathing finally began to slow to a ragged wheeze, his tongue giving one you one final, heavy swipe over your throbbing core.

When Sukuna finally pulled away, a thick, silver string of saliva connected his lips to your wet skin. He stood up, towering over you with his face completely flushed, his lips glistening and wet with you. He used the back of his wrapped wrist to swipe the wetness from his chin—flashing a satisfied look at the mess he made out of you.

Sukuna grabbed his mouthguard off the counter, shoving it into his jaw, and adjusted the waistband of his fight shorts over his aching length.

He gave your warm inner thigh one last reassuring squeeze, smoothing the edge of your denim skirt back down over your legs.

“Shouldn't take long.”

Enjin had you spread open on the bed, two of his thick fingers rubbing small circles onto your exposed clit. Every time your breath hitched or your hips started to rock into his hand, he eased the pressure just enough to keep you close to the edge, but never enough to let you tumble over it.

"Enjin, please—" you whine as your thighs start to shake from his cruel treatment.

He only hummed lazily, a lopsided grin forming on his lips when he dragged his fingers lower, sliding them through your folds before dragging them back up. The pad of his thumb pressed against your clit now, rubbing three strokes with perfect pressure, then vanished completely- leaving you needy and clenching around nothing.

"Getting close, darling?" He mused and watched you nod frantically. Enjin only smiled and started to caress your clit once again, feather light touches until your voice cracked in his name, hips rolling helplessly.

When he saw your entrance flutter and clench around nothing, he pulled away and dragged his fingers over your inner thighs, painting your skin with your own arousal. The denial started to burn hot under your skin, every nerve feeling raw and exposed. When he finally touched you again it was just the ghost of contact that had you whining and chasing his hand once more.

"Not yet," Enjin hummed and leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your knee while his thick fingers finally sunk into your cunt, only to curl torturously slow against your sweet spot to keep you right at the edge with nowhere to go.