welcome to our cult

Even with your highest heels on, the pink-haired leader of Curses Epsilon (Curses ε, the most sought-after fraternity on campus) seemed to loom above you. Crimson eyes narrowed. Smile predatory. Signature black t-shirt tight.

He always had caught your eye, you had to admit.

C’mon, it was impossible for him not to: a few heads taller than most of the student body, more sculptured, more attractive. You’d heard a rumor that he did modelling down in Shibuya sometimes and you didn’t doubt it. He walked around this very university like he owned it. He probably did.

Sukuna pushes back his cotton-candy locks, and you’re seeing the roots of reddish brown where his undercut was.

The shade was so at odds with the utterly devilish look those tattoos gave him. Even now you could see the ink peaking out at his wrists, his collarbones, his nose bridge. They snaked all over his body. Sensual. And when he slowly dips his head down to kiss the underside of your jaw, you start to wonder just how far those patterns went…

“Oh.” You gasp, grabbing onto his well-built shoulders.

They flex through his thin t-shirt when he’s leaning even closer, and you’re suddenly remembering that he was here on a scholarship for wrestling. The infamous leader of his weight class on your university team. The King of the Court. At least that explained his irresistible build - you wonder whether he was a semi heavyweight? A heavyweight? Did they even have those?

You couldn’t think.

You’re tipping your neck further to the side, and from the edges of your peripheral vision you see the way that Sukuna raises one pink brow- before draaaaagging a line of soft kisses down the side of your throat. Filthy. Fleeting. 

You’ve seen that look on him before - it’s the one he’d shoot at admirers that dared to stare too long. That sort of ‘if you want it come and get it’ look. That sort of challenge. Prowling through campus corridors that seemed to shrink whenever his figure waded through, sports bag slung over his shoulder, hair still wet from his shower, you could expect the sports superstar to throw at least ten at a time. 

Though you couldn’t really blame them! You suspected that about half the student body - and perhaps even some professors - held a burning fire for Ryomen Sukuna, and the other half simply wouldn’t admit to it.

And just as long as his list of admirers was his roster.

Or so the whispers claimed…‘His latest catch is actually the mother of-’ ‘They say he has five girls at once and they know about it but stay-’ ‘He swings both ways so what I’d give for a chance-’ ‘His longest relationship was two days and that’s because they begged him-’ ‘Stay away.’ ‘Stay away.’ ‘Stay away.’

Stay away.

You didn’t have to be told that to know. 

It was an unspoken rule on campus, the lay of the land.

Quite the dichotomy, wasn’t it? Stay away from Ryomen Sukuna, unless he’s the one that approaches you first and then it’ll be like your wildest fever dream, your wettest, and when he finally leaves- well, weren’t you told to stay away?

That’s the way things were. And all any heartbroken ex-companion would get is a few soothing words by the very same people who would turn around and make an example out of you.

‘Didn’t you see what happened to so and so…? Stay away.’

He was like a guilty pleasure that most people knew better of, knew would become an addiction. However, still indulged in anyway.

And so here you were. Cooped up in some dimly-lit frat party, cramped until every breath felt like it was singed with the copious amounts of alcohol around you, surrounded by booming beats and bellowing boys. In nothing but the most sinful dress you’d stowed away for a night just like this. Though you had to give yourself some credit- you didn’t wear this just for Sukuna, that’d only happened to be a happy accident!

In fact, you hadn’t even been expecting to meet him here.

Sure, it was the fraternity that he was the leader of, but Sukuna was always quite the…busy man. To put it lightly.

No—when your friends had urged you into this very party, you’d worn it with the thought of another man in mind. None other than your two-timing, two-toned, two-inched ex Zenin Naoya.

Your relationship was never meant for a happy marriage with two kids and a house that had a picket fence, but the straw that surely broke the camel’s back was about a week ago when you’d sneakily scrolled through his social media likes. And say whatever you want about privacy, but the multiple other girls he was entertaining and the deplorable podcasts about women he’d been secretly listening to let you say whatever you wanted.

And your first words to Naoya afterwards had been that you wanted to break up. Your second had been cussing him out.

Which was why, when Utahime had told you that he’d be attending (likely to try and pick up another poor girl), you’d immediately rifled through your closet for this skimpy dress you knew he’d hate. And still jerk off to later.

Speaking of…how ironic was it that you’d run from one red flag and straight into the arms of another.

The thought mulls lazily in your brain, before it’s quickly overtaken by the feeling of Sukuna resting his hands just over the small of your back. Something stirs carnally at the pit of your stomach, and you don’t think you’ve felt this way for a long time - not even when you were still with your ex. 

“Prove it.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

He stops, raising those brows of his again.

And you don’t hesitate a single second before looping both arms around Sukuna’s neck and bringing him closer to you. And the hulking man lets you manhandle him as you please, lets your lips whisper just a breath’s distance away from his. In the distance you think you can hear a few gasps, feel a few stares. “Prove that I want you. Badly.”

And Ryomen Sukuna’s realizing that he didn’t need the alcohol, not really.

Not when he was already drunk on you.

His lips are on yours before you can say anything else.

Your first time meeting Ryomen Sukuna ended up with you pushed into the bedroom at his frat house and holding onto the headboard so that it won’t break against the wall. Bang-bang-bang. He’d lifted your trembling hands off of them, eventually, and placed them between your legs to roll over your clit. You don’t think he cared for a single sultry moment if any of his frat brothers happened to hear.

In fact, with the way that he’d been plunging his massive girth between your legs (the rumors really hadn’t exaggerated!) you’d almost wondered if he wanted them to hear. You wouldn’t be surprised.

Sukuna fucked hard, fast.

He made you stupid on his cock and chased his high like an absolute madman- though, that’s not to say he was a selfish lover. No—perhaps for his own ego, you were made to cum at least thrice on his fat, throbbing length.

And after the deed was done he’d rolled over to the side of the bed and tugged off the sticky condom. Discarding of it into the nearby trashcan, Sukuna rifled through his bedside cabinet for some wet wipes. 

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t the type of after-sex cuddles and aftercare, you’d come to learn. As he’d handed them over to you gruffly, and flicked at his lighter to burn up a cigarette.

Taking a deeeep drag of it, he turns towards you and brings his lips so close that you think he might just kiss you—only to puff out a smoky cloud in your face. “Inhale.” You do as he says, and let the fumes burn your throat. The side of his lips were quirking up in a smirk, “Mmm, good.” Sukuna gestures at his walk-in closet, one that you’d been eyeing for the sheer luxury of it when you’d first entered. “Might wanna find a t-shirt in there, your dress is a little…”

You looked at the sad heap of silky fabric on the carpet - torn now. “And whose fault is that?”

“Heh, just go get yourself a t-shirt, girlie.” Sukuna sits back on the headboard, and you’re appreciatively eyeing his half-naked figure. Prominent pecs. Ladder-like abs. Tattoos that stand out against his golden, tannish skin. He’d tugged on a pair of black boxers by now that did nothing to hide the happy trail of dark pink hair that you had your nose pressed up to minute ago. “Or don’t.” He looks at you with a sleazy smile- shit, he’d caught you staring. “I don’t mind.”

“S-sure ya don’t.” You’re managing out, tight.

And almost robotically, you manage to pull yourself onto your wobbly legs and take one step—Sukuna chuckles to himself as you stumble.

With a glare thrown over your shoulder, you walk into his closet. About as large as your entire dorm. Rows upon rows. Shelves upon shelves. Clothes upon designer clothes that made you wonder just how loaded a future professional wrestler is.

There were brands on his shelves that you couldn’t even recognize but knew were high-end simply from looking at their logo. Gawking, you flip past a few hangers - Versace, Burberry, Burberry, Gucci, Loro Piana, Dior, Dior, Dior, Dior-

Eventually, you simply give up to snatch the (hopefully) least expensive thing you could find: a wrestling hoodie with colorful logos on its front and ‘Sukuna’ emblazoned across the back. 

The fabric was oh-so-soft in your hands, made of pure cotton that tempted you to tug it on your body as soon as possible. Oh, you’re marveling at the way the ending hem of it reaches well past your torso, engulfing you like some sort of blanket. Experimentally, you’re pulling the hoodie flap over your head and giggling at the way it droops down all the way to your nose. Unable to help yourself, you tug the sleeves up to where your wrists were and press the pink fabric to your nose.

Strawberries.

What a smell for such a guy.

“Fuck-” You’re whispering into the fabric, slightly muffled. The rush you were feeling gets dampened down a bit as you remember where you are, “I’m getting way too ahead of myself.”

When you’re finally walking out of the closet, Sukuna was lounging on his king-sized bed and scrolling through his phone. You take a moment to admire him like this- his long limbs stretched across the mattress, hair still sex-ruffled, your nail marks prominent down his shoulders, hands hugging a pillow to his chest.

He looked as if he was carved by the heavens themselves. Though he fucked like the devil.

He’s flicking his eyes casually your way, eyebrows slightly raising as he takes in your attire. “Nice choice.” Sukuna hums, voice deep with sex. “Didn’t think ya had it in you.”

And then he’s patting the empty side of the bed once more.

More, his eyes said. He wants you even more.

You almost instinctively take a step forwards before-

“Actually-” You start, fighting to keep your words steady. You keep yourself rooted in front of his closet and fidget with your fingers. “Before we do anything more, I wanted to make some things clear.”

“Mn.” He’s turning his phone off with a slight sigh, placing his hand atop his head. 

Sukuna says nothing more, and you take it as a signal for you to continue. Taking a deep inhale, “I don’t really do this one-night stand thing often- not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Heartbeat quickening at the way his lazy smile grows, you don’t know why he made you feel the need to explain yourself. “But since we’re-”

“And who says we’re a one-night stand?”

Your heart does something funny with its tempo, “Wh-what?”

He tilts his head as if analyzing you, almost feline with his movement. Sukuna’s pinkish tongue darts out to wet his lips, still sweet with the taste of your pussy. “What if I want two nights? Three? Four? What’re you gonna do then, girlie?”

“Th-then-” You’re clenching your fists—fuck, it made it so hard when he was looking at you like that. “Then you’d have to get tested.”

And that…seems to make him pause.

“What?”

“Then you’d have to get tested, duh.” You’re crossing your arms in front of your chest - oh, it was quite amusing to watch the Ryomen Sukuna scramble for words. And you can’t help the spike of satisfaction, as he so-very-obviously didn’t expect that. “And we’d have to set boundaries. And share schedules. And you’d have to tell me if you meet up with another one of your ‘friends’ so that we can get tested again.”

“…”

“…”

Without warning, he bursts out laughing. “Thorough, aren’t ya?” 

He wipes away a tear of mirth from the right side of his face and- c’mon! You honestly didn’t think it was that funny! Sure, you hadn’t had any…arrangements like this before but you couldn’t have been too far off for the requirements?

“What are you-” But as you start to protest Sukuna only guffaws even louder.

“Alright, alright-” He’s raising up a hand as if to tell you to stop before his (well-toned) sides start to split. It’s only once you take a step back and huff n’ puff yourself into silence that the man finally starts to calm down. Looking down at his lap, “Damn- fuck, I’ve never had my boner killed so fast.”

“It’s just the requirements.” You’re grumbling.

“Girl, I might as well cut off all my ah- ‘friends’ as you so-nicely put it and marry you.” Quite dramatic, but alright. You notice that he doesn’t push back against your boundaries, however. Sukuna stares you down, eyes twinkling with something that you couldn’t quite discern. “And what exactly would you like to call our little relationship then?”

“Friends-with-benefits, what else?”

“Mm, I like it.”

“And nothing more- no marrying any time soon.” You shudder when you think of your last failed relationship.

Sukuna grins, “Keh- don’t have to worry about that.”

.

.

.

“Okay-” Utahime slams! all one-thousand pages of Shoko’s anatomy textbook down on the cafeteria table, rattling your trays and making the surrounding students glance at your trio. You’re watching as her glass of orange juice splashes precariously around the rim and inches one watery hand towards the pages of the book. “-spill.”

You’re startling at her sudden interrogation, “What?”

And to your horror, even Shoko puts aside her medical notes to pay full attention to the commotion between her friends. Both of them staring—squarely at you.

“You heard me.” Utahime crosses her arms, “Something’s up with you these days- and we want to know what.”

Shoko nods, sighing the way she did whenever she was assigned a particularly difficult medical case to discern. “Sudden glow about you- likely a mix of estrogen and dopamine boosts, slightly dazed look in your eyes, increased screen time, unconscious smiles, unexplained disappearances at odd times of night.” She taps her pen on her chin, “Science says you have a boyfriend.”

Utahime gasps, “And we haven’t heard about it?” Throwing an arm around a deadpan Shoko, who says nothing when the other girl shakes her to and fro. “We- we, your very best friends since freshman year, haven’t heard about him.”

“So who is it? I’m curious.” Shoko probes.

“Tell us or I cry-”

“It’s no one.” You’re finally managing a choke out, to which you’re met with the most dramatic groans from both your friends. This time, they’re loud enough to garner the attention of over half this section of the cafeteria- and in your peripheral vision, you swear you could feel the intensity of two crimson eyes…

Your eyes flick to the side - and there’s your first mistake.

Utahime gasps, kneeling on the bench to look over Shoko’s head. “He’s there-” Above your frantic pleas for her to just settle down, “Don’t lie, I saw your eyes move! He’s there I just know it-”

You grab onto her dress and start tugging, “Uta, for heaven’s sake just sit- down-”

“Hmmm, the only ones there are Professor Yaga- no. Todo- no. That PhD student, Higuruma- maybe.” As her options dwindle, she sweeps her eyes. “Ijichi- no, eugh. No offense, my dear, it’d just get so troubling to have to peg him all the time.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “U-Utahime, oh my god!” Even Shoko simply lets it happen in amusement.

Until finally, her eyes waft over the group of fraternity brothers that sat tall amongst the rest of the students. She wrinkles her nose at them, “One of the Curses Epsilon boys- no way, you’re smarter than that.”

They were such a boisterous bunch. Murmuring what were most likely innuendos with each other, clapping each other on the backs with guffaws. Almost handsomely stupid the way they kept looking to their pink-haired leader for approval. Occasionally, someone from a neighboring table would walk up to them in an attempt to talk to Sukuna - and the entire table would fall over themselves to erupt in wolf howls. 

You were almost thankful for the way Utahime had given you the excuse to stare right at him. The way he’d wave off whichever newcomer, the way he’d roll his eyes at his friends’ antics. You’re realizing that his group was mostly composed of athletes, evidenced by the team jerseys and the trays upon trays of food were wolfing down.

Sukuna, noticeably, wasn’t wearing his wrestling hoodie.

The thought makes something shift at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh my god, it’s one of them-” Utahime’s following your line of sight with something akin to horror, and even Shoko seems to be rapt with an attention that she didn’t ever have in her classes.

Both of them had easily let their eyes slip past the boys, it seems. And it’s only once they saw your lingering gaze, only once they saw that familiar smile across your face, that they’re realizing.

Widened eyes slipping back to the rambunctious table.

You snap your eyes to your purple-haired friend once you register her words, “N-no, wait-”

“You stuttered!” She squeals, and you don’t know whether it’s out of excitement at the gossip or sheer fear. She turns to Shoko, “She stuttered, right? I’m not dreaming? She stuttered?”

Shoko nods, “She stuttered.”

Utahime whirls back to face you, “You didn’t even stutter when you told off that asshole Naoya- thank you for that recording by the way, it was quite the pleasure to listen to.” Shaking her head as if to make herself get back on topic, “Either way, are you or are you not dating one of the Curses Epsilon boys?”

“I am…” You pause, “-not.”

They both groan at your response. Utahime even reaches over the table to shake you by the shoulders, “Tell us- I can- tell- when- you- lie-”

“No- no listen!” You’re defending yourself, swatting away her grabby hands. “I’m really not dating one of them, promise! It’s just…”

Shoko asks, “Just?”

You sigh, there was no getting out of this now. “Remember that party we went to at their house a few weeks ago?” Continuing as they nod, your heartbeat starts to accelerate as you realize you’re getting to the meat of the story. “Right- and remember how I disappeared halfway through the night and told you that Akari dragged me off somewhere?”

Utahime gasps, “I have connected the dots.”

Shoko frowns, “You haven’t connected shit.”

“I’ve connected them.” She replies, “I always assumed you ended up hooking up with someone that night and didn’t think much of it. Now you’re telling me that it was one of them-”

“Keep your voice down!” You plead, “But yes, it was…and the thing is that one night turned into two, two turned into three.” Your skin starts to heat up as you remember just last night when you’d snuck out to be let in through the back door of Curses Epsilon. To be pressed onto all fours and ruthlessly ploughed into- “But look, the point is that now we’re kinda…sorta…friends-with benefits.”

They gasp in unison.

Utahime’s all but standing on the bench once more, “Who is it-”

“Whose dick do I need to cut off.” And Shoko is, too.

You put your face into your hands with a groan as they start listing off names.

“No.”

“Choso?”

“No.”

“Larue?”

“No.”

“Kenjaku?”

“No.”

“It surely can’t be fucking Sukuna-” Both of them look at you, look at the impression on your face. And they turn to each other with serious expressions, “She’s fucking Sukuna.”

There was no use in telling them to keep their volumes down now - people turned their heads your way and started to whisper. You could only imagine what the rumor mill was conjuring up now. Hell, even Sukuna himself casually flicked his head your way in interest.

And you wished you could sink even deeper into your seat.

“Did you see that-” Utahime hisses.

“I saw.” Shoko replies.

And the purple-haired girl reaches over to clasp your hands, “He was giving you that look- oh my god. He looked like he was about to eat you up—” And you think that Utahime is perhaps the only one who’d look over and glare at Ryomen Sukuna the way she did just then, “You know what they say about him, right?”

“I’m well aware.” You breeze off, “It’s nothing serious- just no-strings-attached fun, promise. I could break it off at any time and not feel a thing, and I know the same goes for him.”

“Well, that’s good.” Shoko crosses her arms, “And you’re getting tested, right?” 

“Of course.”

Utahime scoffs, “Yeah but it’s not like he’s seeing you that often, right?” A pause. “Right?”

“Well…”

You’d been saved in that very instance by a bzzzz—! in your pocket: a text from the man of the conversation himself. And with a quick apology to your friends (you loved them, you really did, but you supposed that was enough interrogation for the day) and a glance at your calendar to make sure you didn’t have any more classes for the day—you were racing out of the cafeteria.

Followed suspiciously closely by a certain pink-haired wrestling superstar.

You didn’t quite care who saw what or thought what, because a few hours later found you back in your single dorm room.

Fucked stupid.

Sex still hung in the air.

You were sprawled out across your humble single bed, heaving as if you’d just ran a marathon. Head sinking into the pillows. Cunt all drooling with your splashin’ slick. Still reeling from the aftershocks of your multiple highs.

With Sukuna’s athletic stamina, however, he seemed to be barely affected. Taking a light drag of his cigarette (you’re sure the building had a no smoking policy…), he looks over your dorm room with faint interest. Much smaller than his but also much…cozier, you had to admit.

Lived in.

He takes in the polaroids of you and your friends, all the cutesy lights, the columns of books. Sukuna stares hard at one of the pictures above your headboard—it was one of you, Utahime, and Shoko after shotgunning a few beers. On the verge of throwing up.

“Cute- the dorm, I mean. S’nice.” He says, blowing out a streamline of smoke at the photograph. “This purple-haired one s’the one that was screamin’ about us in the cafeteria today?”

“You heard that?” You exclaim.

“Girl, the entire cafeteria and Gakuganji’s senile ass heard y’all.” He rolls his eyes with a grin, “Dunno whether you’re louder then or…” Such a devilish, devilish grin. “-here.”

“Shut up.”

“You certainly didn’t-”

“They threatened to cut off your balls if you broke my heart, y’know.” You don’t quite know why you’re telling him - Sukuna was probably used to the threats of his love interests by this point. You’re turning to your side and facing him, trying not to shiver at the way his eyes glide appreciatively down your exposed body. “Not that there’s gonna be anything at stake to break.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

“And what if?” He asks you, to which you only look at him in confusion. Sukuna takes his sweet time puffin’ on his cigarette once more before satiating your curiosity, “What if I break your heart?”

You think about it for a little bit, “I won’t cut off your balls.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll cut off your entire dick and feed it to you myself.”

The cigarette falls from his hands and onto your carpeted floor- which Sukuna hastens to put out with an uncharacteristic yelp. You guessed wrestling scholarships didn’t cover burnt-down dorm rooms, and you have to stifle a giggle at his actions.

“You-” He pants out, finally looking up after picking the scorched nub between his fingers and throwing it into your trashcan. Almost glaring those rosy eyes down at you, “You think you’re soooo funny, huh, mama?”

You chuckle, “I do.”

“Well, yer lucky you’re cute.” He grumbles to himself, at least- you think that’s what he grumbles to himself. Because the moment you’re looking at Sukuna in slight surprise, he turns his head.

You see nothing but the sharp edge of his jawline, those high cheekbones, the tips of his ears that were flushed with…the sex? Surely? Almost as if he knew what you were thinking, Sukuna brings a hand up to cover them under the pretense of scratching his sweaty undercut. “Never met anyone with this much fuckin’ audacity.”

You yelp, “H-hey!”

“Hey yerself.” And then he’s heaving himself up and digging underneath your own fucking bed as if it was his. How strange, this familiarity. The two of you had only known each other for a few weeks (though you had to admit you had spent considerable hours together) and here Sukuna was rifling through your room like nothing - you just wasn’t sure whether that was a him thing or…He’s finally pulling out—

“That- that’s my rose toy?!”

“Yeah, let’s give ‘er a spin.”

.

.

.

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Itadori Jin’s voice echoed out from the other line, almost reaching a fever pitch in defensiveness. 

Sukuna rolls his blush-red eyes, he’d been standing outside this godforsaken café on a call with his brother for what felt like hours now. With you inside and waiting. All warm. All…fucked-out—anyway! The point was that you were inside all comfortable, and he was a hulking figure looming outside some frilly café grumbling profanities underneath his breath. 

In his defense, it was after one of your ‘hangouts’, alright! 

It was just another day with you. After he’d pumped deep into your lungs, Sukuna just-so-happened to hear your stomach rumble in hunger. And he was the one to have suggested taking a stroll down to the lil’ café down the block. It was packed with college students, and he didn’t really care who saw - besides, bearing through the gaudy interior theme and re-play of music certainly not his taste was almost bearable for the pleasant surprise in your ears.

And the refueling, of course. The main reason he was taking you here was because (surprise, surprise!) a house full of college men didn’t quite have the nutrition needed to last a few more rounds. And Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t done with you just yet.

He just didn’t expect to have been assaulted by a phone call from his older brother the very second he’d taken a step inside. And Sukuna had told you to find a seat for the two of you, deciding to take the call outside. He knew his brother wouldn’t give up if he declined the call.

They always were alike, Sukuna and Jin.

Sure, maybe not in personality - Jin was always a bit of a goody-two-shoes, though he could hold his own in a fight. Sukuna was the one everyone said they had to watch out for.

The one that didn’t get invited to birthday parties by fearful parents, the one picked last during team sports because they said he’d start a brawl, the one visited only by his brother and his father the first time he’d ended up in the ER after a fight, the one who only had those two to cheer at his wrestling matches. Only ever those two.

Whatever. 

Same rosy hair.

Same features (for the most part, at least. Sukuna’s constant trips to the gym and the ER had resulted in him having a rather more rugged look than his twin).

Same stubbornness.

They’d ended up going to different universities, with Jin attaining a scholarship for marine biology a few hours away. Which meant that family functions weren’t quite as frequent as they used to be, but he could still hear it in the man’s voice - that stubbornness.

It made the younger of the two brothers feel the heat creeping up on the back of his neck, slightly squirming as Jin admonished him—“I’m just saying that you sound happier than usual-”

“Jin.”

“And that’s a good thing!” He could practically envision the bespectacled man throwing his hands in the air, trying to hold back his smile. “Hell- Ryo, it’s a wonderful thing! You finally have someone making you happy! You’ve finally met someone special! You finally have someone in your life-”

“I don’t have trouble getting around.” He grumbles, and—well. Ryomen Sukuna isn’t quite the type to explain himself, but with his brother…

“Ryo.”

“Alright, alright!” Sukuna bursts out, and a mother nearby grabs her child by the hand and speedwalks away. “Alright, I haven’t met up with anyone else! I’ve cut off all of my ah- friends, for lack of a better word.” He could hear the smug hum of his brother, “But that’s not because it’s special or anything, it’s just because…”

Jin urges, “Go on…?”

“Because s’just convenient, alright?” He’s finally answering, “S’too much of a hassle to get fuckin’ tested after each one, so I might as well only have her in my life- ah wait, fuck, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I knew it.” Comes the squeal, “Listen, Ryo, I just don’t want your stubbornness to get in the way of something special-”

“And I don’t want to hear yer voice- goodbye, old man.”

The ringing tone to denote that the call has ended is much more soothing than his brother’s voice, he decides. And he takes a few deep breaths before tucking his phone back in his pocket- turning it on silent mode.

He turns around to step inside and—there you are.

Dressed in that hoodie of his that he’d forgotten to take back from you. The air of someone that’d just been properly fucked. Through the glass, he sees you staring at the other people outside. He strays his gaze himself to see what you see- you’re chuckling at that little boy who skips along the pavement, you gasp at the delivery driver with a stack of boxes who almost trips, you coo at the elderly couple walking their dog. Hand-in-hand.

Sukuna looks down at his own empty hands.

Scarred and calloused. 

Before he’s reaching his dominant one upwards and pushing open the swinging café doors. You look up from the booth you’d chosen for yourselves as he enters, waving him in the right direction. It was one by the window, he notices, though in the very corner of the place as if you’d wanted to hide yourself away.

Perhaps hide the two of you away.

Hm…Sukuna thinks, rubbing at his chest. And thrusting both hands into his pockets, he’s sauntering right up to you.

He’s not blind to the stares he garners from some of the other customers, and though any other time he might have thrown a stray wink or two - and honestly, nothing was stopping him now - he simply sides into the seat opposite you. “Sorry ‘bout that, mama- emergency calls.”

“Emergency?” You raise your brows in amusement, peering at the man opposite you as if you were analyzing every inch of him. And he almost couldn’t believe that just a few minutes ago, you’d been shaking and whining underneath him. “I don’t know anyone named ‘Emergency’ at our school.”

“Goes to another school.” He quips, knees bumping against yours as he stretches them out underneath the table. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, girlie~”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

In almost no time, the waitress is bounding up to your table and jotting down your orders. He orders his coffee black, no sugar—and you roll your eyes at him. 

The older woman then coos down at the little interaction, “Oh, you know we’ve got a special offer just this week in honor of our upcoming fifth anniversary? 100% off on all desserts for couples!” Her eyes wrinkle beautifully at the edges, “Would you two perhaps be…”

You open your mouth, “Oh, we’re actually-”

“Completely in love.” Sukuna interrupts you casually, his large hand settling over yours on top of the table. “Maddeningly. We’ll take one of everything for the lady and a strawberry shortcake for me, thanks.”

“Oho, you two.” She chuckles, walking off. “Ah, young love~”

You watch as she leaves—and snap your head towards Sukuna so fast that you think you may have gotten whiplash. “You-”

“It’s for the offer, don’t overthink it.” He lets go of your hand and crosses his arms. You almost miss the heat of it - was the air conditioning in this place too high? You’re sinking your hands into the sleeves of your- his hoodie, and Sukuna’s slouching in his seat. “Take it home- all the desserts, share it with your friend or whatever. It’s for you, anyway.”

“Right.” You’re not quite sure what to say- “Thank you?”

It’s a rather long and awkward silence that follows.

You attempt to break it by grasping for some shred of conversation, “So ah- is everything alright?”

He raises a pink brow in question.

And you don’t know how he manages to do it - how he manages to make your veins bubble and bolt inside of you with just a single look. “The ah- the call, I mean.” You’re squirming in your seat at his half-lidded gaze, so intense. He always looked at you with this certain fire, whether in bed or…here. “You were just out there for so long, I hope it wasn’t anything serious.”

He rests his chin on one hand and tilts his head, “Not worried about me, are you? If it was anything serious?”

“And if I was?”

“You shouldn’t.”

To which you furrow your brows in confusion, “What do you mean? Of course I’d care if something bad happened to you.”

Sukuna only holds your gaze, his expression unreadable.

He reaches a hand down his chest - right over his heart - and lightly rubs that spot. Finally looking away from you, the frat leader answers. “No- no, it’s nothing serious. Just a…friend.”

“I see.” You still.

“You said I could still have ‘friends’, right?” He asks, a note in his voice that was imperceptible. Sukuna looks at you with a meaning that you didn’t fully understand, and you’re realizing that the two of you had been leaning over the table for quite some time. “Or has that changed?”

It seems like an age before you break his eye contact, “Nothing has changed.”

Sukuna leans back in his seat, “I see.” There’s silence between you both once he reaches into his pocket and starts scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone. “Then yeah- it was a friend that called. I’ll get tested afterwards though, don’t you worry that pretty head of yours over it.”

“Good.”

A few more minutes of silence.

He can’t bear it. “Lemme eat you out in the bathroom as an appetizer before our food?”

“Be quick.”

.

.

.

“Truth or dare! Truth or dare! Truth or dare!” Utahime chants, jovial words slurring into a nearly-incomprehensible mess as she claps her hands. Messily, she’s pulling you and a few others into a haphazard circle on her bedroom floor.

All cooped up in a room that was decidedly not designed to hold this many people. The air dimmed with LED lights and cheap alcohol. Bass thumping throughout the bones of her apartment - it was a small get-together that’d turned into a large get-together that’d turned into friends of friends of friends both invited and uninvited 

You swear you’d seen a few graduates sneak themselves onto the living-room-turned-dance-floor before you were being pulled into her room by your inebriated friend. One who, as the host, was deciding what the game of the night would be. “Truth or dare!” 

Pronouncing, more like.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Your ability to turn into a twelve-year-old when you’re drunk both fascinates and abhors me.”

“Jokes on you I don’t know what that word means.” Utahime sticks her tongue out, to which most of the group giggles. 

“But seriously- are we twelve?”

“Fine…” Utahime grumbles, and clicks her fingers as if happening across a sudden epiphany. “Dare or drink, then!” She’s peering towards Shoko with a smug smirk, “How’s that for all adult and mature, hm?”

“That’s almost worse.”

You’re taking the opportunity to sweep a look at the (likely) players: some more of your friends, Ijichi, Haibara, Higuruma from the PhD students, a few sweet sorority girls, some strangers, one Curses Epsilon member-

Your eyes widen as you take in the long-haired man—Choso, you believe his name was.

He catches you staring and smiles at you shyly, an expression that you hope you’re returning without it looking too much like a shocked grimace. 

You’d seen this very man around Sukuna sometimes, and he seemed to be one of the quieter amongst the bunch. Below Sukuna in terms of rank, certainly, they seemed to have an almost brotherly relationship that stood out to you when you looked at the group. And, listen! It’s not that you didn’t realize a member of his fraternity could attend parties - in fact, Curses Epsilon was synonymous with parties. 

So you should have expected this. So you should have been prepared for this.

But the fact that he was here…a part of you couldn’t help but wonder whether that meant Sukuna was here, too…

What that meant he was doing…

Who…

You’re startled out of your little reverie by a call of your name- and to your horror, you’re realizing that you’d been staring right at Choso. The man was squirming before you, his ears tinged just the slightest rosy shade.

Heart thundering at your throat, you look away and turn back to Utahime. Slightly breathless, “Wh-what?”

“You’re up first!” 

She’s pointing down at the carpeted floor, which had a glinting vodka bottle in the middle that’d been spun, it seems. Its transparent circular nozzle stares you down in an almost-accusing way and makes you shift uncomfortably—you didn’t even know that they’d begun spinning bottles yet. And whoever was to fall victim to the end of its vermicular spine was the first up for their dares.

And it just-so-happened to be you. 

You gape, “I-I…”

“C’mon, c’mon! You can’t back out now-” Utahime taps her chin and pretends to think, “I dare you to—”

“Fucking hell…” You already know that this wasn’t going to end up well for you.

And just as you expected, her eyes slide over to meet another pair of eyes—dark, doe-like eyes that had been fixated on you ever since you’d been fixated on them. Subconsciously or not. She smiles as she drinks in the sheer intensity that Choso had been staring at you with, “I dare you to make out with the person sitting opposite you for ten seconds.”

Your brows furrow, “Sitting opposite…” Eyes lifting up to meet—his. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Choso’s pink lips part, the tips of his ears furiously red.

And there’s a few seconds of silence- between you two, but not the drunken students that surround you two. They erupt into cheers and wolf whistles, ribbing at a quiet Choso Kamo to get on with it. 

As you stare, stunned, he peeks up at you through his long lashes. “W-would you mind?” His quiet voice was almost inaudible.

“I…don’t.” You find yourself answering, mouth moving faster than your brain can compute. 

And before you know it, you’re rising to your feet and making your way to the middle of the circle. Those dark eyes widen as you draw nearer- so different from the red ones that you were used to.

Something in your stomach clenches, and you feel a strange buzz zing! throughout your entire body. You’re not sure whether you like it or not.

Choso himself starts to get closer to you, and your pulse quickens at his closing proximity. His eyes turn half-lidded as they flick to your lips and back up to your face, like he was making sure that you were okay with this. Tentative. Almost…shy. You’re admiring the tousled look of his hair, that tremble of his lips, and the way his eyeliner makes him look so soft. 

You wanted to run. You wanted to kiss someone. You wanted to run. “I- I really don’t.”

Choso kisses you.

For a beat. Two.

One of his ringed hands snake upwards to grip the column of your throat, and you’re parting your lips with a moan! Fuck, you were getting wet. Just in time for him to slip in his tongue and-

CRASH! THUD!

You’re wincing at the rush of light that assaults your retinas, and as you slowly blink back your vision- you realize that there were tears in them. Because of what, you’re not too sure. But you chalk it up to the harshness of the light as your eyesight clears back up.

And then you’re seeing—oh, it couldn’t have been a figment of your imagination.

You’d never mistake that cotton-candy hair anywhere.

Sukuna was on Choso, with the other man sprawled out on the ground and the rugged wrestler on top of him. Chest heaving. Skin flushed. A vein throbbing at his neck. His entire body was rigid and honed for a fight that he knew he was going to win. He had one tattooed hand gripping the front of Choso’s shirt, and the other pulled back mid-punch.

A punch that he was frozen in.

A punch that clearly hadn’t landed yet.

From what you’re surmising of the situation, Sukuna had pulled the other man off of you by his collar. From what you’re surmising of the situation, he was all but about to attack the other man just because he was kissing—

“Ryo.” You’re starting, a hand reaching out as if to stop the fight yourself. 

Any and all floatiness from the liquor had now completely dissipated from your body, and you were only left coiling in thick, unyielding tension. Surprisingly, your voice doesn’t waver. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid or god help me-”

Almost as if jolted to life by the sound of your voice, Sukuna lets go of Choso in a single, jerky movement.

Though he doesn’t speak - and you’re almost thankful for it, you don’t know what you’d say to him. Instead you’re breaking out of your little trance and pushing aside Sukuna—yes, pushing him to the side so that you can get to Choso.

Stunned, he lets you move him.

He always has.

With both hands gently placed upon either side of Choso’s handsome face, you’re inspecting him for any injuries. He flushes slightly at your touch. And - tactfully - no one nearby says a single word about it. “I’m- I’m alright.” Choso says, his tone slightly hoarse.

But you don’t give up until you’re completely and utterly sure that he’s okay. “Hm, well alright.” Finally letting up, you start to move yourself- and only then do you realize that you’d been straddling Choso’s hips. Hurrying to scramble off, “O-on behalf of him, I apologize.”

You’re lightly bowing and he stops you with a hand at your shoulder- only to glance at Sukuna and let you go as if you burned. “No, no! It’s my fault for not knowing-”

“Don’t worry.” You spare a glance at Sukuna, who had his eyes downcast and his expression revealing nothing. “There’s nothing to know.”

And that…that makes the Ryomen Sukuna flinch—

As if he’d just been stabbed.

As if the temperature in the room had dropped to freezing.

As if you’d plunged your hand right through his ribcage and torn out his heart.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at his point. “Again- I’m so sorry.” Turning back to Choso, who’d been watching the exchange with side eyes - right along with half of the party that’d turned up from the living room now at the whispers of a commotion here. Especially one with the wrestling star—and over a girl at that! “And about that ah…” You gesture at his hips…the ones you’d been straddling.

Choso blushes even deeper, waving his hands in front of him frantically. “No- no, I didn’t mind! I mean- I mean, it’s alright and you don’t need to apologize! But you didn’t need to apologize anyway because I didn’t-”

“Man.” Shoko rests a hand on his shoulder, “Stop talking.”

He immediately clicks his jaw shut.

The next thing you’re doing, you don’t even know if you even fully thought it through. Because one second you’re standing up—and the next you’ve got your hand wrapped around Sukuna’s waist—and the next you’re dragging him through the packed party—

Through the crowd that turns their head to look at your unlikely duo, that turns their head to watch the gruff leader of the wrestling team be led out as if he was a naughty child.

Sukuna lets you take a few steps out of the apartment’s front door, before he’s halting in his tracks and gripping onto your waist instead. Not hard enough that it hurts, not gentle enough for you to be diverted anywhere but his one-track destination to…well, you weren’t quite sure.

“Ryo- I mean, Sukuna—” You squeal as your heels click-clack! down the stairs. You don’t pull yourself free from him, because you know he would let you. “Sukuna, I demand to know where we’re going-”

“There’s nothing to know.”

Your stomach drops.

It’s the last thing he says. The only.

And you can only follow as Sukuna draaaags you out into the night-lit street, cars lining the pavements like the straps of lingerie on a faceless body. An outstretched. A ready. 

You’re recognizing the gleaming black body of his new Audi in an instant - you would anywhere, to be honest. It took up about half the street. Imposing, just like him. It always did make your heart skip a beat to see it parked outside whatever rager you were attending for the night. Just as soon as you’re registering the car, you’re having your back pushed up against it-

“What are you-” You gasp out, before his lips are on yours.

Furious. Feral. Fighting to open them roughly with his own mouth, he’s taking a single look at your prettily parted lips and spiiiiitting straight onto your tongue- before stuffin’ it with his own tastebuds, just in the way that Choso was about to mere minutes early.

You muffle out, “M-mmpf- Sukuna!”

“Ryo.” He rasps, blindly unlocking the door and pushing you into the spacious backseat. “You know m’always your Ryo.”

That night he fucks you harder, faster than any time before.

As if he was claiming every inch of you.

And you don’t end up going home for the night—no, you end up at Sukuna’s instead. And if he made you moan his name even louder than usual, well, it’s only in the morning that you realize that Choso’s bedroom was right next door.

.

.

.

Ryomen Sukuna had flowers—

An entire bouquet of red roses that he’s sure the florist ripped him off for - surely something grown out of the dirt couldn’t be that expensive?! But he did have to admit that it looked wonderful taking up more than half of his backseat—the very same backseat he’d fucked you senseless in not too many nights ago.

The two of you hadn’t seen each other properly since Utahime’s party.

What with his wrestling practices for the upcoming tournaments, and your finals rounding the corner. It’s honestly by sheer miracle that Coach Kashimo had cancelled today’s training for some reason or the other (he honestly didn’t look too closely, merely glancing at the email before driving to the nearest florist whilst texting you to ask whether you were free). And, well, here he was…

So fucking pathetic in his excitement to meet you that he’d forgotten the damned flowers in his car!

Sukuna hopes that they weren’t wilted as he struggles to put on his ripped jeans, discarded on your bedroom floor right along with the rest of his clothes. He’s looking around frantically for his t-shirt, when you glance over at him from the bed.

And he doesn’t see the flicker of hurt in your eyes.

“Leaving so soon, Ryo?”

“Uh huh.” He’s absent-mindedly responding—where the fuck where his socks? Did he even need socks just to go down to his car-

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, “Another appointment?” Another person, is what you really wanted to ask, but…

“Something important that I forgot.” Sukuna replies, looking underneath your bed and ah- there they were. He feels you sitting up on the bed, blanket clutched to your naked chest, as he sits on the mattress with his back turned and finishes dressing up. “Fuckin’ hell, can’t believe I even came up here forgetting-”

“Right.” Your tone was clipped.

“Should’ve gone down the second I remembered but-”

“Should have.”

“Because it’s mad urgent-”

“More than me.”

“I just got a little distracted, y’know?” The pink-haired man glances over his shoulder with a teasing smirk, slightly frowning at the way you turn your head away from him. Hm…he attempts to lighten the mood, “S’all your fault, girlie~”

“Sukuna.”

And that makes him slightly wither in on himself. That tone. That name. Trying to get a good look at your face, he leans towards you. “What’s wrong…?”

“I think we should end this.”

Everything.

Everything was wrong.

Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t fight your decision, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t try to get you to explain. He lets your words sink into his being like a pebble cast out in the vast and unceasing Blue—and he lets them fester within him just as mysteriously.

He’s walking out of your dorm a hollow man.

Right up to his car, he’s taking automatic steps. Where he flings the door open and grips the bundle of stems of those- of those fucking roses.

He wants to destroy them.

Sukuna’s hand trembles as he raises them high in the air to chuck- before his peripheral vision features two familiar faces. Unbreathing, he’s turning his head jerkily to the side and staring at them—matching crows’ feet, a slow hobble, the slightly hoarse laughter between a whispered conversation. A vision so private that he almost wants to look away, he didn’t know how you did it.

It scares him how quickly he recognizes the elderly couple to be the exact same one you’d been admiring from afar that one day at the café.

It scares him.

Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t know why he hands his heartbreak bouquet to the old couple that day. But he does remember one thing - the delighted smiles on both their faces, the way the old man had so-clearly wanted to hold the blushing, beautiful flowers. But he’d given them to his wife anyway.

Seeing the young man staring, the old man had winked. 

A knowing smile on his face.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” To which the sweetly older woman had reached down to pluck! two blossoms from the bouquet. And without hesitating, she’d tucked one behind her husband’s ear—and then beckoned Sukuna to lean down to tuck the last one behind his. Rosy red against lovely pink.

His eyes widen as her slightly roughened hands cup his cheek.

Humming with a smile, “You are so easy to love, my dear.”

Something in him breaks a little at that very moment.

And Ryomen Sukuna drives the entire four hours it takes him to drive to Itadori Jin’s university, to damn-near bang down his apartment door.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Jeez…” His older brother’s familiar voice - stubborn, so stubborn just like his calls out from inside the apartment. He doesn’t care that it’s 2AM and Jin’s neighbors would be complaining, right now he just…really needed his big brother.

He can hear the footsteps get even closer. “Who the hell is it at this time- I swear if it’s rent then I already paid it two weeks ag-”

The door clicks open.

Jin’s face freezes in surprise—before it’s dropping at the look on Sukuna’s face.

“Oh, Ryo.”

His arms are around the taller man’s instantly.

And if Itadori Jin felt his sweater drench where Sukuna’s face rested, then he doesn’t say a word about it.

“What did I tell you about keeping your someone special, Ryo?”

.

.

.

It’s the next day when you’re waking up to an incessant knocking at your door.

It pounds like the headache you’d been sporting all night.

And you’re getting up, your eyes swollen - not just from sleep (in fact, you don’t think you slept a single wink all night) - and your movements all sluggish. Looking down, you realize that your pyjamas- Sukuna’s wrestling hoodie, was still drenched in tears. Your blinks were heavy. You felt a mess.

You barely even wanted to get out of your bed, and you don’t think you would have had it not been for the sheer ferocity of the knocks. 

Were they trying to break down your damn door?!

“C-coming!” You’re coughing out, sure you had a doorbell that was going unused. Disgruntled, you’re unlocking the door and reaching for the doorknob. “Jeez, Uta, I swear this isn’t really a good time if you’re going to-”

The first thing you see is red.

Red.

Red.

Red roses.

Bouquets of it lined every inch of your dorm’s corridor, as far as your eye could see, some even piled on top of each other, the largest held between Ryomen Sukuna’s trembling hands.

And the second thing you see is, well, red again.

The blush that dusts his handsome face, rivalling his pinkish locks. Sukuna takes a half-step forwards- before he seems to think better of it and lurches right back. His thick brows furrow in sincerity, as if he just wanted to make you feel his words— “I love you.” He pants, as if he’d just run here. And it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of your lungs. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Oh, Ryo.”

And it’s all the confirmation Sukuna needs to let the bouquet in his hands drop down to the floor. Rustling. Letting the blossoms be replaced with something that is, to him, far more beautiful.

He crushes you so tightly into his embrace that you almost can’t breathe - nothing but the soft strawberry scent that engulfs you whole. And you almost don’t think you need to. Not right now. “I love you.”

“You idiot.” You choke out, “You idiot- you’re so- fucking- stupid.” You punctuate your words with punches to his chest, which makes it rumble with a chuckle. “And I’m even more stupid because I…”

“Yes?” Breathless.

“I love you even more, Ryo.”

He sighs with his entire soul and collapses in on his world—you.

A few minutes later.

What feels like absolutely no time later.

You’re finding your back laid flatly against your single bed - a humble compartment in your dorm room. But now it had you sprawled out across it and reaching for your rickety headboard to hang onto dear life, Sukuna kneeled at the foot of the bed and clawing at your tear-stained sweatpants.

Pulling at it.

Tearing through it.

Your whines intermingle with the rip-rip-riiiip of fabric once he’s exposing your naked legs. You were wearing nothing underneath it, and Sukuna’s fucking groaning as he opens up your thighs to take the heavenly sight in-between.

“Fuh-fuck…” You swear you see a line of glittering drool fall down the side of his mouth, one that Sukuna’s gulping back as soon as it comes. “Holy fuck, sweetheart, how do you look even tastier every time I see ya?”

You’re huffing, unable to stop yourself. “Maybe you’re just mixing me up with-”

“Don’t say that.” And though his voice was quiet, it was stern. It meant every word he was saying, “Never say that.”

Gliding his roughened hands down the tender inner parts of your thighs- you’re shivering as you feel every line and callus from his palms. Remnants of wrestling. The softness of holding you. It makes something in your heart lurch, “I-I just-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Sukuna looks away with a light blush as he cuts you off, “But I do. We have much to talk about…but the one thing I need you to know is that ever since I met you, I have never, and will never, so much as look at anyone else.”

“Ryo—” You whimper, feeling the thick crowned edges of his thumbs inch towards your drippin’ core.

“And I want you to know that m’yours.” He nudges his handsome head closer, until he could breathe in the sultry scent of your pussy. You could feel the cold breeze of his inhale- “Soul…and body.”

And then he’s lavishing his loooong tongue out to lick a wet stripe at your clothed pussy.

Sluuuuuurp—! Such a greedy taste of your cunt. Before Sukuna’s drawing his muscle back in just to do it all over again - flick after flick where you were most tender. With the tip of his tastebuds he’s outlining your glistening crevice, and pinpointing them right where the knob of your clit was located.

You’re twitching as you feel him enter his lengthy tongue juuuust underneath the drenched fabric of your panties, before fishing it back out whenever he feels he got too close to your pussy. 

“P-please-” You’re grabbing onto Sukuna’s head of pink hair, trying to move him even closer. “Want you even closer- stop teasing now.”

He rolls his eyes rudely, “Teasing? You think this is me teasing, sweetheart?” And before you can register it, he’s reeling his tongue all the way back into his mouth. Leaving your poor cunt all throbbing and completely untouched. “This is me teasing.” As you buck your hips pathetically with the desire for his ridged texture, “What I was doin’ earlier was just savoring, mama.”

You throat was thick with need, “But- but what is there to savor-”

“What the fuck are ya talking about?” One of his pink brows raise.

“I mean-” You hasten to explain, your entire body radiating pure heat and need. “You’ve already had me like this before-”

“Oh—” And suddenly, the most lecherous smile plasters across his attractive face - already slicked with copious amounts of wadded slick that sticks to him like some sort of adhesive. “Girlie, you don’t even know the half of what m’capable of.”

And before you know it—Sukuna’s rugged fingers come down to spank! right on top of your pussylips. 

Before you know it, he’s clasping the side of your ass cheeks and flipping you right over as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. With one finger hooking onto your panties- you can distinctly sense when the wrestler seems to think better of it and instead bites his pearly white canines down on your soaked underwear.

You’re muffling out with your face pushed into your pillows, “Wh-what are you-”

Before he’s teeeeeeearing your panties right down with nothing but his mouth.

Exposing your quivering pussy all for him to see, smearin’ apart your folds with both his thumbs. He takes a few seconds to admire the slick that splashes out of your entrance, before spitting vertically down your slit.

Simply to add onto the mess.

It’s the only warning you’re getting before Sukuna completely surges in and shoves himself nose-deep between your puffy folds. Just the tip of his nose drags down the middle of your cunt from behind, and before you know it- his tongue is zig-zagging at your hole wiiiiiildly—

He’s like a madman. He’s like a man starved.

Gulping at the excess of your leaking sap and then munching himself even close to lap at the dewdrops of slick just about to fall out of you. They don’t even have to be pouring out of you for your greedy Sukuna to be gluing himself to your cunt.

Shovelling his tongue even deeper. 

And when your tight orifice can’t take any more of him, he’s grunting out into your cunt and spitting.

“Fuck.”—He’s clenching his jaw and spitting out once more at the slight resistance of your hole. Just the way that Sukuna’s wet muscle was oh-so-thick, and he kept having to pry apart your pussy folds even further just to inch inside. Until you’re shivering at the feeling of his knobbly tastebuds dragging down your walls, “C’mon c’mon c’mon- just fucking take it my girl, I know you want to.”

“I swear your tongue got even bigger, Ryo-”

Your velvety walls close in on him, keeping his slippery tongue hostage while he only tries to ebb even deeper. He’s clenching his jaw at the slight resistance of your tight hole. “S’only been a day and she’s forgotten me this much?”

Fisting at the pillows, “I didn’t, it’s just you’re too big.”

“Appreciate the flattery, mama.” You could feel his grin against your softened flesh. “But it’s my fault.”

Instinctually, you’re raising your head off of the spit-drenched pillows to ask just what he meant-

“But I guess I hafta eat her out so she remembers this time, hm?”

But you didn’t have to ask for the answer.

You didn’t even have to think—honestly, you don’t think you can even, well, think by the time he’s got a hold of you.

Because Ryomen Sukuna was going to do well on his promise—Ryomen Sukuna was going to do well on all his promises.

He was latching one ruthless hand onto the side of your hips and manhandling your hips to start gyratin’ down onto his open maw. Angling you in just the right position so that his swollen lips can latch onto your throbbing clit-

“Bet’cha didn’t know that m’a good multitasker.” He’s gurgling out, wads of slick n’ spittle clogging up his throat. And the thing was—Sukuna didn’t care how much he had to suffocate on your pussy, he fucking loved that shit.

“I-I don’t think I did.” You’re replying.

“And bet’cha didn’t know that I- fuck, I can reach in so deeeeeep.” The large muscle of his tongue swipes in so deeply inside of you- you can’t even fully comprehend whether he’d plunged inside all the way up to his chin because of how dumb he was fucking you.

Rough, hard strikes at all your most delicate spots inside.

Finishing off with the most sinful noises - it’s like the deeper he gets, the louder those noises get. “Bet’cha didn’t know that I r-reach yer- hah, g-spot this fast, hm?”

You’re furrowing your brows. Sure, you were slowly getting more and more dazed on his cock - but surely you weren’t that mindless that you wouldn’t notice? “Wait, but I don’t think you ever actually—oh.”

And then you’re feeling it.

And you’re realizing that Sukuna had timed it precisely for the middle of your sentence, when he can hear the effects of you stumbling and falling apart on his very tongue.

Mazing all the way inside as if searching for treasure, his thorough inches are spreading out your walls so well. Not leaving a single crevice unturned, a single drivelling orifice, a single bundle of nerves- that he’s honing in on and darting straight against.

Pushing down on the area of your g-spot, you’re suddenly jolted by the electricity of your pleasure. He snickers, “There it is.”

Crying out, “Th-that’s just mean, Ryo.”

“Th-th-that’s just mean.” Mocking, in a lilting pitch that was most certainly not reminiscent of your own. With a tough roll of his eyes, he’s only unfastened his maw to take you even deeper from behind. “Bet’cha didn’t know that I could be meeeeean—fuckin’ meaner than you even even thought.”

“I-I think I know too well.” Or so you claim - but shit, Sukuna had never eaten you out like this before.

With his pointed chin jutting against the base of your treacly cunt, and his nose curving against your slit. Sukuna isn’t just thrusting his tongue inside you, he’s also making sure to flick and linger his tastebuds into any orifice he knew you were fragile at.

Again. Probing.

Again and again and again.

And with a smug chuckle, Sukuna claims. “Bet’cha didn’t know that I could go reeeeeal fast.” Until you’re hanging your head down to stare between your slick-sheened legs and all you could see was a pink blur intruding at your folds. “Or reeeeeeal slow.”

“F-fuck, that feels so good.” Your back arches into the perfect curvature when his velveteen tongue starts slowing down into an agonizing pace.

It was just so slow that you could feel each line and crevice of his rows of tastebuds, and just so thorough that speckles of your syrup were darting from your orifice and splattering! down onto the mattress. It starts forming a puddle on the sheets beneath you- one that Sukuna was certain not to go to waste.

His free hand skids down the insides of your thighs, layering his fingers in a thin glaze of your pussy’s slick. And whence his fingertips were all done and coated, the pink-haired man was raising them up to his mouth and sucking the sweetness off.

Not. A. Single. Drop. Wasted.

With a groan, he’s not letting his time go to waste, either. And he’s back funneling your snug channel with his tongue—in and out, in and out, in and out. “Take yer pick- s’all for you, mama.”

“Sh-shit, but I like both.” You didn’t even know whether he was talking to you or your pussy by this point - but you were too gone on his tongue to even care. Slightly bucking your hips into his mouth, “But I- ngh, do like it a bit better when you go…faster…”

A sudden spank down on your clit once more, “Atta girl.”

Nose pressed up against your slit, tongue lashing ruthlessly inside.

Ruthlessly.

If you thought you were ruined on the movements of his tongue just earlier, then this sudden sloppy cadence has you seeing fucking stars. 

The gooey end of his tongue swabs against every tender spot at your innards, somehow forking at your luscious g-spot and attempting to reach even deeper. Perhaps your cervix. Perhaps your womb. And Sukuna’s permanently patterning his tastebuds against your walls. Swirling and swirling and swirling right on time with the caresses at your clit.

He didn’t care how much you bucked and trembled at the sheer pleasure of it, the frat leader’s fingernails dig deep into your flesh every time you lurch away.

“Ah ah-” Only to be hauled back down in mere seconds by one of his strong arms. Back and forth, back and forth, baaaack and forth. With an unceremonious squelch! your pussy’s being plastered back down onto his mouth. And Sukuna tongues your folds back open to start jutting in between your lips, “Don’t- haaaah, fuck, don’t fucking run away…how m’I supposed to eat out my girl’s pussy if yer fucking running away?”

“I don’t know, you’ve never- hck!” Before you can open your mouth with your next few words, Sukuna’s showing you what it means to be his girl.

To have his knobbly fingertips pinch at your clit and start drawing—“H-heh…can ya spell it?” He rovers his thumb even harder on top of it like a button, “Bet’cha didn’t know I could do that. Spell it. Or are ya fucked dumb on m’mouth already?”

You’re replying crossly, “M’not fucked-”

“Then spell it.”

With a pitiful moan, you’re throwing your head in a downward direction to try and see exactly what he was-

Smack!

Yet another mean swatting on top of your puffy pussylips, and Sukuna’s tutting against them. It was as if his lips were glued to your pussy using the slick adhesive of your juices, and he didn’t want to detach himself even to speak—even to speak. “Ah ah- no cheating now, mama. Noooo cheating.”

“Fuh-fuck—” He angles his fingertips as if he was about to strike you once more. “Fine- I meant fine! The first letter is, mmm…”

“Yeeeees?” Drawling out.

And your pupils are swirling in time with the sultry motions of his digits. It was a pattern that makes every hair on your body stand on end - too curly to be a particularly pointy letter like ‘A’ or ‘K’ and yet not even half as curly to have been an ‘S’ that might mean his name. “Is it…R?”

“Atta girl.” Yet he plants another slamming of his fingertips that makes you throw your head back and whine, “Whoops- accident, sweetheart, accident.”

“F-fu—” Fuck you, is what you meant to say.

But Sukuna’s roughly bashin’ away at your sweetest orifice a few more times, leaving a big bruise against the side of your walls with his tongue. And it simply leaves you speechless, “Mmmm, nope! The next letter isn’t ‘F’, try again.”

“Y—!” You’re bawling out, your jaw falling agape at the sheer incredible speed at which he was drawing out all those whines and noises. It was simply unbearable in the best way. Unbearable. 

You could tell that he had so-very-clearly been holding back at your previous…hangouts. And you could feel the burning sensation of bliss start up at the pit of your stomach, “And is the rest of the word ‘Ryomen’?”

“Mmm, three correct.” He answers, to which your hazy mind guesses that the first letters were R-Y-O…“Quite the sneaky lil’ thing, aren’t you? And ah- here’s a little hint, this next one’s an apostrophe.”

“Fuuuuuck, m’close.” You’re whimpering out in response- and his response, he’s only slashing at your g-spot at a faster rhythm. Only plucking at your tender clit—“S, and the next letter is- ngh, P.”

“Good, goooood—”

“U.” You gulp, and you’re unsure whether it was because of your oncoming high or because a lecherous part of you already suspected what the rest of what he was writing may be. “S…S…” Your entire body shivers, limbs unravelling - and you’re not quite sure whether you’d make it until the end of-

“Final letter.”

“Y!”

“And wha’s that spell—?” Sukuna grins out, “Her pretty lil’ name.”

Your lips wobble as you try to enunciate, “Ryo’s pussy…”

“That’s my girl.”

You’re seeing a split-second of flashing lights before you’re suddenly pushed onto your high - hard, overtaking waves of pleasure that leave you all boneless against Sukuna’s eating mouth. But that worked just alright for him- he’d simply white-knuckle onto the side of your hips and lavish your tight entrance with his entire tongue.

Probing, again and again.

The cushy edge of his tongue swipes forwards to strike your g-spot right on time with the peaks of your euphoria. Like a perfect button for him to press on and increase your pleasure until you were simply shaking, “And my girl feels so goooood on her Ryomen’s mouth, doesn’t she?” He pants, fingers pinching your clit now and rolling between the roughened pads of his index and thumb. “Feels so nice cumming on Ryo’s tongue- bet’cha didn’t know it could feel this good, huh, sweetheart?”

Furiously shaking your head, “Didn’t- didn’t know- hck!”

And with a few more moans you’re just splashin’ your clingy wads all down Sukuna’s throat, all across his handsome lower half. “Ooooo- aaaaaatta girl—”

“C-can’t stop cumming.” You shake, tears sparkling at the edges of your eyes. “It just feels so good-”

“Leave some for m’cock, alright?”

But he was the one that wasn’t leaving anything, that wasn’t showing you any mercy.

Even once the sparks of your startling orgasm have bated, he’s plunging his wide tongue in and out. Scouring the inside and outside of your treacly pussy. Licking up every single ounce of slick sploshed down your front. 

Dripping wet.

Only once you’re well and thoroughly overstimulated does Sukuna actually falter his movements, “Mmmm, there ya go, girlie~” He’s pulling his prolonged muscle out of your hole with a sloppy squeeeeeelch! He looks down at your mindlessly clenching pussy and admires his handy-work. “And now for the real deal.”

“Th-that wasn’t the real deal?” You’re asking through a whimper.

“That? That was just my appetizer, y’know?” The pink-haired man snickers at his own joke - though it really didn’t sound like a joke to you.

You attempt to flip yourself over- but Sukuna keeps you firmly in place with a hand at your hips. “Ah ah- don’t you think of running from me. Not now. Not ever.” And while you’re still draped across your front on the bed like this, Sukuna’s starting to tug off your hoodie—

Before he realizes just which one it is - his, his name on the back - and he stops immediately. 

“Actually…” Sukuna stands, and you know that tone of voice didn’t bode anything good for you. “Why don’tcha keep it on, hm?”

Instead, he’s the one that’s stripping now.

That skin-tight shirt.

Those baggy pants.

Those boxers that were—oh.

Your eyes widen, “Is it just me or did…grow even bigger since last time, Ryo?”

“Mmm- why don’t we ask my pussy about it later, hm?”

And with that said, you’re getting to turn around and admire all of Ryomen Sukuna’s toned, tanned muscles. They ripple as he discards his clothes somewhere over his shoulder, making those tattoos of his look as though they were moving by themselves.

Greedily, your eyes follow the circles on either of his deltoids. The snake-like patterns down his pecs. The rings around his beefy biceps. The rings around his wrists. All the way down to the rings around either of his meaty thighs.

Shyly, you’re realizing that you’d skipped over one spot in particular.

And you drift your eyes back up—Sukuna’s erection was hard and hot between his legs. The most furious red at his mushroom tip that made him look as though he was so achingly needy he might as well fall off.

That you might as well count each one of his throbs.

Biting down on your lower lip, you’re impatient as you follow a bead of milky pre that dollops on top of his thick tip. Smearing just a bit. Travelling down, down, dooooown the veiny length of his shaft- until it ends up at the unruly tufts of pink at his base.

His tattooed base.

One more ring around his hilt, and next to that—you gasp.

“Oh…oh my god.” Without a second thought, you’re leaning in to get a closer look at that irritated patch of skin next to Sukuna’s v-line. And if your eyes weren’t deceiving you - that part of his skin had a swirling black calligraphy of none other than your fucking name on him. “Don’t tell me you’ve-”

“I did.”

You gape up at him, “Ryomen Sukuna, you’re fucking crazy-”

“I know.” He shivers as you reach out to touch it. Sukuna was fully unclothed now and prowling towards you on the bed, like a predator closing in on his prey. “But I couldn’t just name that pussy of yours ‘Ryo’s pussy’ and not contribute my part, too, could I? I had to show my dedication too, mama.”

“But putting it permanently on your skin-”

“Is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

You knew there was no talking him out of it, and Sukuna’s eagerly smoothing his calloused palm on top of your stomach. Caressing you. Drinking you in with his eyes.

Flipping you onto your stomach once more-

“Now face down, ass up- I wanna fuck my girl right.”

You’re barely managing to let your sweaty scalp hit your pillow before Sukuna suddenly has his obtuse tip squeezed between your pussylips and pushing and pushing—

“Oh—”  Your eyes are scrunching as tight as they could close, and the only thing you can do is utterly melt into Sukuna’s carnal desire. You don’t think you’d ever get used to his sheer size. “Oh my god- oh my fucking- ngh, I always love h-how you feel-”

“For now-” And it’s a damn miracle that the man could speak - especially when your tender walls were squeezing him like that. “F-for now just pretend it’s the first time.”

Did he just stutter? What was he even…“Wh-what- oh.” You’re being shut up by Sukuna’s rugged, ravenous tip once more. He’s swabbing every treacly spot of your insides without even trying - simply just attempting to fit and fit and fit—

“Just- hah- just pretend s’the first time.” He kisses his lips to his teeth, both clammy hands plastered onto the side of your hips to help him funnel his massive cock inside.

His flared slit lodges against the roof of your cunt, and you’re arching just so beautifully into him- that he can’t help but lean down and bite at the side of your throat. Humming in satisfaction at the way the marking is just covered by his hoodie, it gives him the courage he needs to say those next few words. “Pretend s’just you and I. Pretend s’our first time- ngh.”

“You mean to say—oh.” You’re dizzy on the way his honed tip was perfectly opening up your hidden spots, and every time he’s reeling his hips back it’s just a constant back and forth. “Don’t think I even knew I had a spot there…”

“Good- good, jus’ like that.” He grunts out, holding you even tighter to his muscular body. “Pretend s’like we’ve never fucked before. You’re my girl- always have been. M’your Ryo- always have been. Always will be.”

“A-always will be-”

“And right now s’our first time, I’ve never fucked you before- oh, forget about all those fucking times in my room and in the car.” He whispers out, something desperate cracking primally at the back of his throat as he eases his way inside. “S’our time now—and I get to finally, finally fuck you as mine.”

All his.

And you’re finding that when Sukuna’s fucking you as just his…it means he’s so much more ravenous than you’ve ever known him to be.

So much more ruined.

So much more out-of-control—

It’s like he’s truly realized his full potential. “Since yer mine I get to- hah! stop you from running from my cock whenever I like.” Hauling you down like a ragdoll with both hands on your waist, you shrill at the slamming contact of his hips against your hips. His thighs against the backs of your thighs. His large cockhead against your ready cunt. “I get to fuck you raw for the first time. I get to fuck you so much- s-so fucking much n’ I don’t even have to worry about the marks I leave.”

“What marks?”

A slam so hard that you swear you can feel the globular end of his shaft right near your throat—“These marks.”

And you’re almost about to repeat your question in search of an answer once more- before you’re realizing what exactly Sukuna means.

Marks.

The marks he was leaving on every gooey orifice inside your cunt, on the globes of your ass being pummeled by his hips, on the sides of your body under the mercy of his grip.

Using that very same grip, he’s folding you on all fours underneath him. Tighter and tighter. Closer and closer to his hulking body. Before your muddled brain can register it, Sukuna’s reaching over his meaty right leg to plant right on top of your sweaty scalp.

Yes—on top.

The heel of his foot ends up on your head, and your eyes snap open in- perhaps shock, perhaps at the sheer audacity of him. You jolt.

“Ah ah-” The only thing you hear before one of his hands clasp ‘round the cottony fabric of your hoodie and tugs it down - it seems that your sudden lurching movement had made his uniform bunch up by your head. 

And the famed wrestler wasn’t just bringing it down to take a good look at your pretty self. No—he was also bringing it down to read the name - his name - emblazoned across your back and jostling to and fro while you were being fucked by his ruthless hips. “Theeeeere we go, gotta rep the name, mama. Especially the first time.”

“Rep the set? You’re already fucking me- ngh, senseless.”

“And yet I already get to have you- fuck, wear this f’me. My girl. My lovely, lovely girl.” His toned figure leans down and he’s sloppily kissing at the name. 

His name—fuck, how he loved this position. That was why he’d purposefully chosen it, to have his name peak up at him as he ploughed himself into you like a madman. Grunting out once your sopping lips squeeze him at the stretch, “The girl with my- hck! last name-”

“Ryo!”

“Whoops- too soon?” He doesn’t even sound the least bit regretful. And you can’t even answer, because then he’s only fucking your surprised whines out of you, “Mmm, and don’t forget that I also get to do- heh, this.” And as if it was even possible, his vicious hips accelerate their tempo against you. “I get to do whaaaatever I want with my girl’s pretty pussy- ah, apologies, my pretty pussy just to fit my thick cock inside.”

“I-inside-” You mindlessly babble out, “Want it inside-”

“Yeah? Want it all the way until my tattoo? Never been fucked like this before, have ya?”

Well, he has fucked you like this before. But that coherent part of you realizes that that wasn’t exactly the answer that Sukuna wanted right now—“No- no, never. You’re the first to fuck me like this, Ryo, mmm.”

“Good.”

Whether he was praising you for keeping up with his conversation - or whether he was praising you for taking his cock until he’s bottoming out - you’re not quite sure. Either way, the curly pink hairs at his base finally reach your folds—and they scritch-scratch at your pussy in such a carnal way you never knew you needed.

As he’s fully inside of you, the wrestling superstar hunches his entire body over and shivers. And pants. And throbs his entire length deeply inside of you in a way that makes your head pound with a rapid ba-thump! Ba-thump! Ba-thump!

“H-here….” One of his hands lifts off of your hip to caress down the front of your stomach. Sukuna feels for where his swollen tip was pulsating against your womb, and presses doooown against that lil’ bump. “S’my first time kissin’ my girl over here, isn’t it?”

“It- it is—”

And Sukuna truly is fucking you like it’s the first time - he’s fucking you like he’s angrier he didn’t have you earlier, he’s fucking you like he’s making up for all the lost time.

Just roughened, piercing bashes against your g-spot- he doesn’t even have to try to locate that bruised n’ battered little area on your channel. The rounded orifice of it gets pummeled by his shaft, and you’re seeing stars due to the sheer pressure of him. “It feels so- ngh- fuck.” You could barely even string together a sentence, head feeling all airy. 

“Feels soooo—?”

“I don’t- I don’t even…” He doesn’t even have to be fully inside to let his curvaceous tip poke into your cervix. Purposefully angling his hips, Sukuna’s rub-a-dubbing the door to your womb with his puckered tip. “Th-think m’cockdrunk, Ryo.”

And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the way that his rude cadence seemed to stutter. “C-cockdrunk?”

Nodding through your tears, “I am, I am—oh.”

But of course, never let Ryomen Sukuna be known as the man that doesn’t take care of his cockdrunk partner. 

Never. 

Because in a split-second, he’s lifting his rude foot off of your head and you jolt at the sudden rush of blood to your scalp. “Oh- oh my…”

Only mere moments of mercy before you feel your entire limp body be hoisted off of the mattress.

Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your scalp, and you’re flailing at the feeling before- “Shhh, shh sh- be a good girl f’me before you make me put that foot atop your head again, mama.” Sukuna grunts, and suddenly you’re feeling one of his strong arms look around your neck.

You could feel all those developed biceps of his bulging against your throat once Sukuna cradles your neck and squeeeeezes. Spittle flowing out of you and down his veiny forearm like a fountain, “D-did you just put me in a fucking- ngh, headlock?!”

“Mhm.” He shows absolutely no remorse, “And I don’t hear her complaining.”

In fact, he could only hear the most sopping wet squelches emanating from your cunt.

And so Sukuna keeps holding you in this treacherous headlock whilst he’s pummeling you from behind. All those veiny inches of his cock being slurped right up between your pussy lips. Again. And again. And again and again and again—

It feels like hours have passed before you’re jolting at the sudden feeling of Sukuna’s warm fingertips slithering down between your sheeny legs once more. Your clit throbs like it’d missed his touch- and never one to leave you wanting more anymore, he’s twisting his rugged fingers on the nub.

Letting the patterned edges of his digits start twistin’ and turning that swollen knob in his hand. Your cunt squelches out a wet splash of slick at the sudden pleasure, “I-it just feels so good-”

“I know.” Sukuna hums, all smug with himself. “She’s told me- heh, think about thaaaat—I get ta speak with her for the first time tonight.” Before you can say anything else, he dips his head down to look at your cunt from underneath you and coos. “Hey, girlie, how are ya~?”

“Y-you’re unbelievable-” And yet he’s rovering his thumb all over your clit in a way that just has you gasping for more, and your cunt squelching out even louder.

“Mmm, m’doing good, thanks for asking.” He continues…a fucking conversation with your pussy. And at your widened stare, he shrugs. “What? M’only having a chat with- hah, my pussy. Wha’s wrong with that?”

“N-nothing…” You suppose.

“Exactly.” And then he times the ministrations of his thick thumb just right to roll over your clit in synchronization with his cock. You’re feeling one incredible thud! at your g-spot, and then you’re feeling another drag on your clit. This time…a pattern that you’re finding strangely familiar- “Can you spell, mama?”

“Are you asking—” Smack! A rude spank on your cunt, “F-fuck…”

“Apologies ‘bout that. S’my first time with you, remember? And I hafta get to know you. Get to do this.” He hums, and it’s not to you anymore. He’s completely and utterly devoted to keeping all his concentration on giving your pussy the utmost pleasure possible - from two different places of origin. “So about that spelling—”

“Fuck, Ryo, what are you trying to…”

This time, he’s not cutting you off. This time you’re trailing off out of your own volition, your ears listening for the sequences of letters that Sukuna calls out.

A sequence that sounds oddly familiar.

A sequence that spelled out your name.

He drag-drag-draaaaags your clit and it lets out a particularly loud lecherous sound that the larger man beams at, “Mmm, exactly. Perfect pronunciation and all- now let’s see if you can spell the rest.” And without further ado, Sukuna’s expert fingertips start outlining a different set of letters on your throbbing clit.

Making you shake with pleasure, “W-wait that spells…” Silently mouthing along.

S—he’s accelerating the thumps all the way at the back of your cervix, until you’re feeling dizzy.U—K—just the sheer amount of tears that streamed down your cheeks already told you that you were getting close to your high. U—

Your eyes widen, “Y-you’re not seriously-”

“Shhhh.”

N—but oh, he was. As if he was reading off of that sports hoodie on your back. And he was letting you tremble uncontrollably in the aftermath of his constant strikes and thumps at your greedy orifice, drilling into you with a hunger that never satiates. A hunger that tells you he’s wanted to do this for a long, long time. A—

You whisper what exactly it spelled out.

Your name, with the last name of-

“-Sukuna.” The man himself finishes off, before leaning down to leer at your drivelling cunt. The very same that was slurping and squelching away maddeningly at your gushing slick—“S’gonna be your name very soon, my girl.”

You don’t quite know which one of you he’s talking to - you or your pussy.

But you don’t quite care at this moment, either. Because in almost no time, you’re bursting into your nth high of the night - it’s no longer simply your second anymore.

Because as soon as you’re crashing into the white-hot wave of your second, you’re plummeting into your third. Your fourth. Your fifth. Seemingly dragged out of you as if it was oh-so-easy by none other than Sukuna’s ruthless cock.

You shake as it explodes through you, harder than any other orgasm you’ve experienced in your entire life.

Toes curling.

Lashes staining with tears.

The only thing you can do is arch your back into Sukuna’s sculptured one and let him thoroughly bash you through your zaps of euphoria. Over and over.

He lets his veiny shaft glide down your gooey insides, caressing every inch of you that seemed to explode with pleasure any time he was pistoning into you. “Yeah-” He grunts, feeling you uncontrollably clench around him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- cum around my cock, sweetheart. Only around my cock—” His headlock on you tightens, “-got it?”

“Got it-” You babble out stupidly, your cheek slipping along the sheen of saliva you’d created on his forearm. “I got it, I got it- but…”

One pink brow raises, “But…?”

“But I also want you to do o-one thing f’me.”

He nuzzles the crook of your neck, “Anything.”

“Cum inside?”

And, well, Sukuna did say ‘anything’—didn’t he?

Because with a few more vulgar thrusts, the infamous frat leader is tipping his head back and emptying himself out inside you. You could feel the way that his thiiick balls clench from behind you, each of those wadded webs of ivory sap being poured out into you.

Each and every single one.

Stuffed and stuffed inside of you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you take in the second skin that he’s layering on top of your insides. Something so warm and filthy feeling heavy inside of your orifice—fuck, you’re discovering that a primal part of you loved the feeling.

It sploshes! out into your deepest depths and create a lil’ puddle that you can feel even at your cervix. Just swirled around by his thickened tip, “C-cumming—” The man rasps out, voice botched with a primal sort of hoarseness. He stutters as he cums. He shakes as he cums. Crimson eyes shuttering at the most blissful feeling in the world, spurting his seed inside your needy pussy. “And then there’s that- hah! I get to cum inside you for the f-first time…”

And it really was the first time he was filling you up like this. All the way up to the brim and fucking those pearly beads of cum right back inside you, “Kinda- ngh, always wan’ you to cum inside me.”

He pecks the side of your temple, hips still shifting filthily. “Hey then we’re gonna have a- mmm, mini-Sukuna before you’re even Mrs. Sukuna, girlie.”

“M-maybe I don’t mind…” Bucking your hips back into his for more friction.

“Talkin’ outta that pussy, I see.”

With yet another sudden spank! on top of your sultry folds, you’re being flipped over once more and stuffed right back up to your womb with Sukuna’s thickened inches. All of them shoved right up until you can feel them at your very throat- “We might have to dumbify her too, I’m afraid.”

“S’gonna be a long night.” You’re commenting with a shiver.

Sukuna grins, “How’d you spell ‘the first of many’?”

.

.

.

The tournament was in an uproar by the time you’re running into the stands.

Well, more bowing and apologizing as you scramble to your seat past rows of other supporters- but you stand by it nonetheless. You’re letting out a pant of relief as you finally plop unceremoniously down onto the only empty chair in the stands, placing down your bag and pulling on the collar of Sukuna’s wrestling hoodie in an attempt to fan yourself. 

“You’re late, my dear.” Utahime hisses from the row behind you, flipping off the middle-aged man that grumbles at her.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You whisper back - ah, so that’s where they were. A few more rows behind her were some of the Curses Epsilon brothers - including Choso - that you had been starting to get to know, little by little. They wave happily at you and you wave back with a grin. You’d been wanting to get seats next to all of them, but it seems they’d filled up faster than you’d hoped.

At the very least you were lucky to have your friends so close by you, and you’re shooting them an apologetic smile - after all, you were the one that’d bugged your two best friends to join you watching Sukuna’s wrestling match. You mouth, “Whole story. Explain later.”

“Traffic?” Shoko asks from next to your purple-haired friend, looking up from her anatomy textbook. For what reason she had that, you weren’t quite sure…and you weren’t brave enough to ask, either.

Choosing the short story, you’re nodding at her suggestion.

You’d run all the way here, truth be told.

Sukuna was already halfway through his final match of the tournament, one more and he’d win this collegiate title. And though a part of you was upset that you’d missed out on so much (sure, you could watch them later on the recordings, but it was the principal that counted!), it made you so-very-proud to see so many of the recruiters with their eyes locked on Sukuna and Sukuna only.

Your boyfriend of just shy of a month.

You couldn’t blame them—fuck, you just wished you hadn’t had to wait so long at the dry cleaner’s! Apparently there had been some sort of mix-up that’d resulted in you being quite delayed while you actually waited to claim the hoodie you knew and loved too much.

Sure, it’d been slightly stained from some of last nights…activties (somewhat of a good luck ritual, he claimed, though you knew what he really wanted to do was fuck you in the hoodie with his name), but beloved nonetheless! 

Anyways—after falling behind your schedule, you’d been hit by traffic, and then there was the issue of actually trying to navigate the stadium, and then- well, here you were!

Evidently, it seems that Sukuna is sensing the same thing.

Because in the middle of an ankle lock, Sukuna’s crimson eyes flick upwards towards the stands- and they’re meeting yours instantly.

A charged tension only the two of you could feel.

Squirming slightly in your seat at the intensity of his stare, his realization, you give him a wave.

In mere split-seconds, Sukuna has the other man slammed down onto the floor and his sweaty body struggling to even move. You cheer, that had to have at least been two points.

“We’re lucky you’re here, my dear.” Utahime leans down to whisper to you. “You won’t believe what that boyfriend of yours was like before the game- moping around, calling you, staring longingly at his phone wallpaper of you—eugh! I didn’t even know that a man of that size and strength could act like a lost puppy.” She shudders.

Shoko states plainly, “What she means to say is that your boyfriend missed you.”

And you’re just about to open your mouth to answer- when right beside you, a jittery voice speaks up.

“P-pardon me.” The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the man that’d been seated to your left, you hadn’t paid much attention to him considering the frantic state you’d been in when you first got here. “Did you say ‘boyfriend’?”

And now, you almost wished you did.

Because the man beside you looked exactly like Sukuna only…softer. Quieter. Calmer. With an air about him that told you that perhaps he was the type that grew up with quite a bit of responsibility. He wore a sweater with the shapes of some marine animals sewn into it. He didn’t have any of Sukuna’s tattoos or the chiselled look of a recent athlete or the gruffness he wore like a cloak - but the resemblance was uncanny. 

The bespectacled man adjusts his glasses and your jaw drops—this must be his older brother that he told you so much about! “You must be his girlfriend that he’s told me so much about.”

“Y-yes!” You snap out of your little reverie at his words, and you’re immediately reaching out your hand for a handshake. “You must be his older brother, Jin?”

Jin pulls you in for a hug, sighing out against you. “Thank you so much for taking care of him.”

“No- not at all! The pleasure’s all mine, and he’s the one that takes care of me most of the time.” You’re sheepishly admitting, “Thank you for taking care of him all this time, I know he looks up at you so much.”

The other pink-haired man blushes, scratching behind his neck. “W-well I wouldn’t say that…” He glances to his left, “Oh! And silly me- I forgot to introduce you to our father.”

You’re beaming at the gruff old man seated next to Jin, a furrow between his brows that you could’ve recognized anywhere on his younger son. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

The introductions between you and Sukuna’s family go swimmingly (if there was a wrestling alternative then you’d have said it), and you’re finding that they were the absolute sweetest. Jin was soft and compassionate, the polar opposite of Sukuna and yet so similar to him at his deepest core. Wasuke was more like Sukuna on the outside, and you swear you could feel your sides splitting at the quips he’d comment about his son while you all watched the match.

Eventually, the three of you along with your friends in the latter rows are chatting up so much of a storm that you almost don’t notice—“He’s about to win.”

At the sound of your voice, the rest of your group looks over at the ringed boundaries of the match.

Instantly, you’re all up on your feet and cheering at the top of your lungs. 

All of you.

Jin and Wasuke.

Shoko and Utahime.

The Curses Epsilon boys.

You.

And when Ryomen Sukuna finally defeats his tough opponent, you can’t decide which one of you cheered the loudest.

But what you do know is that he’s sauntering up past the boundary the minute his win is announced - all sweat-streaked and spitting out his mouth guard, all panting and toned with his muscles, all uncaring whether or not his coach is talking to him right now.

He doesn’t care

He doesn’t care.

Sukuna’s breaking into a sprint once he sees you getting off the stands—and scoops you into his arms whilst you yelp in delight. 

You knew you must look such a sight, you and this hulking man.

You feel him bury his face into the crook of your neck, whispering. “Could you all have been any louder?” And you could feel the way his face burns against your skin.

“What- the King of the Court fan club?” You’re innocently questioning, “Yes, that is our name and you can thank Jin for that. And no, we don’t show signs of stopping any time soon- we actually plan on expanding to the rest of the campus by the end of semester-”

He peeks up at the group behind you, here just for him - his brother and father, your friends, his fraternity brothers - and groans. And you can only laugh.

“You all are insufferable.” Sukuna says, baritone dramatically pained. “Especially you.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

He presses his lips to yours, “That, I am.”

A/N. A MAN WHO YEARNS IS A MAN WHO WHAT??

weekends at yuji’s had started to feel routine in the best way — shoes kicked off by the door, snacks scattered across the coffee table, textbooks open but rarely respected. the four of you rotated between pretending to study and actually getting distracted every five minutes.

today was supposed to be productive.

“i really don’t understand this term…” you muttered, pressing your fingers to your temples like you could physically massage the information into your brain. the words on the page blurred together, academic jargon twisting into nonsense the longer you stared at it.

megumi leaned closer, calm and patient as ever. he nudged your hand aside gently and pointed to the paragraph. “you’re overcomplicating it. don’t read it the way the book phrases it,” he said, voice low and steady. “explain it to yourself in simpler terms. what’s it actually trying to say?”

you frowned, listening as he reworded it, breaking the concept down piece by piece. he was good at this; making dense material sound almost manageable.

a loud groan shattered the fragile concentration.

“nerds,” nobara announced dramatically, flopping across the couch like a disgruntled cat. “stop being boring and play mario kart with us before i lose my mind.”

yuji popped up beside her, already holding two controllers, grin wide and mischievous. “c’mon, you’ve been staring at that page for like twenty minutes. that’s unhealthy.”

“i’m stuck on this chapter,” you argued, glancing helplessly at megumi as if he might shield you from temptation. “i can’t get my head around it— maybe later—”

“ughhh,” nobara dragged the sound out as if you’d personally offended her. “you have, what, four days until your exam? one game won’t kill you. relax a little.”

yuji wiggled a controller in your direction, teasing, sing-song. “you knooow you want to~”

you exhaled through your nose, already feeling your resolve crumble. “fine. one game,” you conceded, pushing yourself up and heading toward the couch.

nobara shot megumi a look. he didn’t even glance up from his book.

“i’ll pass,” he said simply, flipping a page.

“this,” nobara declared, pointing at him accusingly, “is why people don’t invite you to parties, megs.”

“pretty sure it’s because they’re afraid he’ll knock someone’s ass out,” you added dryly, settling into the couch.

“that too,” yuji agreed cheerfully.

megumi didn’t rise to it. “you three are enough chaos,” he murmured. “statistically, adding more variables would only worsen the outcome.”

“listen to him,” nobara scoffed. “he thinks we’re a science experiment.”

“you kind of are,” megumi replied without missing a beat.

you barely had time to laugh before a new voice slipped into the room.

“is that so?”

you turned.

sukuna was slouched against the doorway at first, then moving closer, folding himself over the back of the couch with lazy confidence. he wore a black tank top that clung to his frame, tattoos winding down his toned arms in sharp, deliberate lines. black-painted nails tapped idly against the couch fabric as crimson eyes flicked over the group.

and then, briefly, over you.

your spine went rigid.

“can i join?” he asked, though it didn’t really sound like a question. more like a challenge.

yuji lit up instantly,he held out a controller. “of course, big bro! get in here.”

sukuna took it without breaking eye contact with the screen. “don’t cry when you lose,” he said lazily, voice edged with amusement.

nobara straightened, competitive spark igniting. “please. more people for me to absolutely destroy.”

he huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “confidence. i’ll enjoy crushing that.”

yuji grinned, already shifting over and patting the empty space beside him. “c’mon, sit here—”

but sukuna didn’t move toward yuji.

instead, he adjusted the controller in his hands and walked around the couch with unhurried steps... and then he was lowering himself onto the cushion beside you. very beside you, likeeeee close enough that his thigh pressed against yours the moment he settled.

holy fucking shit.

yuji blinked, then snickered deciding to turn to the screen and set up the game.

nobara’s eyes flicked between you and sukuna, interest sharpening, but she said nothing. just smirked knowingly and turned back to the screen.

and you?

you were suddenly hyperaware of everything.

the heat radiating off him. the faint scent of something clean but distinctly him. the way his black-painted nails contrasted against the bright plastic of the controller. he leaned back casually, spreading his legs without a second thought, broad shoulders relaxed, posture loose and claiming.

his knee brushed yours and stayed there.

you, meanwhile, were sitting ramrod straight, spine stiff like someone had slid a metal rod down your back. your hands gripped the controller a little too tightly, knuckles paling.

calm down! it’s just proximity.

“you always sit like that?” his voice murmured beside you, low enough that it didn’t carry to the others.

you swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “like what?”

“like you’re about to be executed.”

heat crawled up your neck. “i’m not.”

“hm.” his knee nudged yours lightly, “could’ve fooled me.”

you forced yourself to relax, or at least pretended to. sinking back into the couch by a fraction. it only made everything worze. his arm stretched along the back of the couch, fingers lazily draped just behind your shoulder. he occupied space like it belonged to him. you, meanwhile, felt like you were borrowing air.

the race began in a burst of color and sound, and nobara and yuji immediately fell into their usual chaos.

“don’t you dare— yuji!”

“i didn’t even touch you!”

“you absolutely did, you liar—”

but with sukuna added to the mix, the dynamic shifted fast. he wasn’t loud about it. didn’t whoop or gloat. he just… dominated.

sharp turns taken flawlessly. boosts timed perfectly. he drifted like he’d been born with a controller in his hand. within seconds he’d blown past both of them, leaving nobara spluttering in outrage.

“oh my god, are you serious right now?”

yuji shouted, “bro! stop targeting me!”

sukuna muttered something under his breath, low and dry. “if you can’t keep up, that’s not my problem.”

“that’s so messed up!” yuji laughed anyway.

you, on the other hand, were in last.

which was humiliating, because you were usually decent at this. but your focus was shot to hell. every time sukuna shifted beside you, every brush of fabric or skin, your brain short-circuited for half a second too long.

“you’re falling behind,” he commented mildly, eyes still on the screen.

“i can see that,” you muttered.

“hm.” there was amusement in the sound. “thought you were going to win.”

you gritted your teeth and focused.

second round. you forced yourself to breathe, to tune everything else out. slowly, muscle memory kicked in and your turns sharpened and timing improved. you overtook yuji.

“hey!” he protested. “since when are you good again?”

“always,” you shot back automatically.

up ahead, sukuna was still in first. of course he was. then you saw the blue shell rotating in his item slot. his camera angle shifted briefly, panning behind him. fucking hell. you braced yourself, already imagining the explosion, the inevitable humiliation of getting knocked out just as you caught up— and then he fired.

but not backward, rather foward.

the blue shell screamed ahead, locked onto nobara in first after she’d briefly stolen the lead during the chaos. it detonated spectacularly. “you absolute—!” she shrieked, cursing with impressive creativity as her character spun out.

and sukuna… slowed down? just slightly.

your character surged forward, overtaking him and claiming the first place over the finish line. “ha!” you shouted, adrenaline surging. “in your fucking face!” without thinking you turned and pointed directly at sukuna, grin wide, triumphant and reckless.

the room went quiet for half a beat. ice-cold sweat slid down your spine. for a split second, you were convinced you’d signed your own death warrant.

he looked up at you and met your wide, poorly-concealed panic with a slow raised brow. crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable.

and then he laughed.

not the arrogant, taunting laugh you expected. it slipped out of him unexpectedly, warm enough that he had to cough lightly into his fist to cover it, shoulders shifting with the motion. his eyes never left your face.

you were still pointing at him, still frozen in your little victory pose.

and now, staring back at him like a confused dog trying to process a new command, head tilting slightly to the side as if changing the angle might help you understand what was happening.

that only made him chuckle again, quieter this time. “god,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “you’re adorable.”

your brain short-circuited. “…huh?”

before you could process it, he rose from the couch in one smooth motion. he unfolded to his full height in front of you, broad shoulders casting a faint shadow as he towered over where you still sat clutching the controller.

then he extended his hand. and you, brilliant genius that you were, shut your eyes, slightly flinching. it made him pause, a slight crease forming between his brows.

you felt fingers against your cheek.

warm.

calloused.

pinching?

your eyes flew open.

sukuna was standing there, expression unreadable except for the faint curve tugging at his mouth, his fingers gently squeezing your cheek and wiggling it side to side like you were something mildly amusing he’d picked up off a shelf.

“i said,” he repeated, voice low and almost thoughtful, “you’re adorable.”

you blinked at him. he studied your stunned expression for half a second longer, then let out another quiet chuckle before releasing your cheek. the spot tingled where he’d touched you. without another word, he turned and walked off, hands sliding into his pockets as casually as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of the room.

the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.

silence swallowed the living room.

“huuuuuuuuuuuuuuh?!” nobara’s shriek pierced the air like a siren.

⛰︎ While he had always been awkward-ish as a kid and as a teenager, growing up on the rez meant he still had to speak and know everyone, especially being the son of a tribe elder. So he is sociable, a little mischievous when comfortable, and a total know-it-all, both funnily and irritatingly.

⛰︎ If you just give him the time of day, and he’ll get you to smile, chuckle, and have you laughing hard within an hour. 

⛰︎ But he still has his moments, his fumbles, and his ultimate apologetic, cheeky smiles. He’ll tell a dumb joke with too much confidence, stumble over his words, then laugh it off in a way that makes you laugh too. He charms easily without even trying—because it’s real. He’s not putting on a show, just being.

⛰︎ Of course he’s very handy, always tinkering with something, metal or otherwise. It’s calming to him; he can press pause on his brain and just lock into something that creates silence. He’ll spend hours working on an old motorbike, or a rusted part, with music playing softly in the background, sleeves pushed up and grease on his fingers.

⛰︎ It’s his favorite kind of alone time—quiet and productive.

⛰︎ It was hard when he phased for the first time. Everyone was so loud in the hive mind, it was hard to have a quiet head without running hundreds of miles away, and even then, he could still hear distant whispers licking at his ears.

⛰︎ But being able to have something to lock into, it helped a lot, and made the voices quieter without having to go so far. It was nice, and he’d find himself too often in his garage, working on something, anything.

⛰︎ He won’t say it out loud, but it kept him sane. Some nights, it was the only thing that helped.

⛰︎ Especially when he is thinking a lot—hurtful things, and sometimes things that just happen—he was tired from the back and forth with Bella, and it’s easy to just drive into something (besides you ;) ). He’s not great at talking about his feelings, but you can tell when he’s hurting. 

⛰︎ He gets quiet. Withdrawn. Doesn’t meet your eyes. And that’s usually when you’ll find him covered in metal shavings and oil, too deep in his distraction to answer the phone.

⛰︎ But he can also appreciate a good hunt. 

⛰︎ Even before his phasing, he liked to hunt—not in a sadistic way, he always thanked the animal, regardless of what they were, for being here and giving him sustenance, especially for his loved ones and pack members. It's just another thing he can focus on when things get crazy. It brings him a certain grounding—there’s no noise, no pressure, just instinct, silence, and respect. 

⛰︎ He always buries something. Always gives appreciation.

⛰︎ After his sisters left, he often found himself being alone a lot. He always had his dad and his friends, sure, but it was common that he found himself alone at times and… it didn’t bother him too much. ⛰︎ He liked being alone. It gave him space to breathe, to think, to just be. But as he got older, that loneliness started to feel heavier, like something was missing. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but the ache was there. Always.

⛰︎ Loves a good campfire. The fire always brings a strange comfort—warmth on the outside and a way to fight the cold on the inside.

⛰︎ When it's not too wet or rainy outside, he stacks up some wood from the garage and starts a bonfire with some leaves and old shrubs. Sometimes his dad is with him, sometimes some pack members, and sometimes it's just him. He doesn’t seem to mind either way, although the yearning for that someone to be with him is always there, yipping in the back of his head like a wounded puppy.

⛰︎ He’s usually seen in just shorts when on patrol, but when keeping appearances and occasional outings, you’ll find him in tight-fitting jeans and t-shirts, maybe a jacket or flannel here and there, but not too often.

⛰︎ He finds he gets too hot in places where the heater is turned up—literally will start sweating, dare I say he gets a tickle in his tongue to pant.

⛰︎ Even when he showers up to go outside into society, he somehow still smells like pine needles, cedar, and something like firewood. People notice.

⛰︎ When he is caught inside like this, he’ll take a moment to stand outside in the rain/fog just to breathe. Someone might ask if he’s cold, and he’ll blink like they just asked if the sky was green.

⛰︎ “Nah,” he’ll shrug, cheeks pink but completely unbothered. “It feels nice.”

⛰︎ And it’s not even to look cool—he genuinely prefers it, especially after phasing. Too much heat made him restless, makes his skin itch in a way he can’t explain. He’s most at ease when the air bites a little, when everything is crisp and quiet. 

⋆.ೃ࿔ :･°‧ NSFW HC’s ˖*༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔

⛰︎ He’s got big, calloused hands from building bikes and fixing cars—rough, strong, and capable—but the way he touches you is the softest thing in the world. He trails them slowly over your skin like he’s memorizing every curve, brushing your hair away so he can kiss that spot behind your ear. 

⛰︎ There’s a delicious contrast in how strong he is and how tenderly he handles you. His grip on your hips might bruise, but the way he brushes your hair from your face as he rocks into you is gentle enough to make you tear up.

⛰︎ He grips your thighs like he owns them—but always looks at you like you own him.

⛰︎ “You okay?” he whispers, voice shaking. “Need me to slow down?”—even when you’re already crying his name.

⛰︎ His voice drops an octave when he’s turned on—gruff, husky, and something dangerous. Sometimes it’s just a low, “You sure?” in your ear. Other times, he mutters in Quileute under his breath, growling your name as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it half the time—it’s the wolf in him, the instinct to claim.

⛰︎ Sex with Jacob isn’t just physical—it’s emotional. He touches you like you’re precious, looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real. He’ll start slow, tease you for minutes with just fingers and lips, whispering the sweetest things in your ear. 

⛰︎ When he’s been gone for even a day—pack business, errands, whatever—he comes back needing to feel you. He lifts you, walks you to the nearest surface, and kisses you like he’s starving.

⛰︎ Sometimes when he just phases back, all his emotions are raw. He can’t stop pacing, his body twitching from leftover adrenaline. The only thing that grounds him is you. The way you soothe him. The way your body calms him.

⛰︎ He doesn’t even undress you—just kisses you, needy and rough, like you’re the only thing keeping him human.

⛰︎ But once the tension snaps and the haze clears, he turns into the softest man alive. He’ll hold you for hours, pressing kisses to your temple, whispering, “You okay, baby?” over and over. He’ll wipe you down gently, help you into comfy clothes, and get water without you even asking.

⛰︎ Then he pulls you against his chest and tucks your legs over his, murmuring a sleepy “I love you.”  into your hair until you both doze off.

⋆.ೃ࿔ :･°‧ ⛰︎ ˖*༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔

chapter six, click

chapter seven, promise you

chapter eight, hollow bones

chapter nine, things you don't say

chapter ten, all ears

chapter eleven, keep up

chapter twelve, everything, anything