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godhandler · 23 days ago

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DISLOCATION - one shot

(SUKUNA x FEM/AFAB! READER)

PLOT:

Sukuna, your best friend, (begrudgingly) helps you no matter what hurdles you face in life. Even when that hurdle involves getting a sexual fix after your ex cheats on you.

CW & TAGS: bffs to lovers, tattooist sukuna, yearning, (hinted) reader with low self esteem, shitty ex, kissing practice, lots of build up, angry confession, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), piv, stiff dirty talking, (honestly this fic is just me trying to get my smut writing practice in)

Note: PLS let me know the name of the artist who made the fanart so I can credit them

wc: 6.8k

—

It was like resetting a bone after a fracture. Painful, but unavoidable. The idea has finally cornered you, setting a dark shadow over your sanity.

Your tongue is thick and heavy as soon as the words leave your mouth, the hypothetical shards of broken bone poking you from the inside of your body, the sting reminding you of how stupid you sounded.

Sitting before you was your best friend with his mouth hanging open, remnants of his half-chewed lunch falling out.

“You made me push my client an hour forward to tell me that you’re going to engage in casual sex?” Sukuna asked while resuming to chew with his mouth open, barbecue sauce smeared on his chin. Any other person would’ve grimaced at the sight, indirectly tossing him a comment about using a napkin. Still, the relationship between you two has gone on long enough for each of you to eat like it’s your last day alive in front of one another. However, you still sigh and grab a napkin, wiping off the sauce for him.

Sukuna goes cross-eyed when your hand reaches his chin, following its motion even when you retract it to your side.

“I-yeah, kind of, but it’s more like…” You uneasily trail off, staring at your glass of water instead. You imagine a race between the condensation droplets to buy some time to think about how you’re going to tell your friend that you want to have sex with him, so that you can get over your ex.

“Like what? Spit it out,” Sukuna impatiently said as he grabbed a fry off your plate. You couldn’t be bothered to be annoyed at him for it. Not when your little idea had been eating you alive since you’d received a breakup text from your ex.

‘Hey, I’m not in the right headspace to continue our relationship. You’re too good for me, and I don’t deserve you.’

The jerk was a grade A phony, blocking you on everything as soon as he saw that you replied to the text, hoping that you could meet him in person.

When you used a fake social media account to see what he was doing, you discovered that he had moved to another country to be with a woman he’d been dating online for six months.

Meaning that your one-year relationship meant nothing to him.

So, feeling used and abused, you decided to rip the band-aid off for one last session of wallowing via sex.

“I want to have sex with you so I can get over my ex,” you rambled out as fast as possible.

You sit with a bated breath, the sound of the restaurant soon ceasing to static because of the barrage of thoughts fogging your mind.

The burger falls out of Sukuna’s grip, his eyes trained on the plate. A vein in the middle of his forehead highlights itself as his frown deepens, his eyebrow piercing shifting positions.

“And why me?”

About eighty percent of your brain had assumed that he’d either groan out a disgusted ‘no’ or blush and look away while politely rejecting you, but that was not the outcome you expected. It’s like discovering that you’re a millionaire but not knowing how much you’ll need to pay in taxes every year.

“Look, we’ve been friends for a while, and you get me better than anyone else. It’ll be a one-time thing, of course—if you consent, that is.” Sukuna still doesn’t look up from his plate after your answer. “No pressure at all, I can totally understand if you don’t want to—“

But Sukuna interrupts you before you can vomit out any more conversation buffer. “I need a minute or an hour. Maybe a day. Or two. I don’t know. I’m gonna be late for my appointment,” he rambles as he abruptly gets up, swiping his leather jacket off the booth’s seat in a flash and bidding you a quiet farewell before briskly walking out of the diner, door slamming shut loudly. The other customers sharply turn their heads at the sudden ruckus.

Sukuna’s greasy, flat, half-eaten burger had been left behind because of his urge to escape.

A part of you feels bad for throwing your concerns on him if his feelings aren’t important to consider in this matter. But the wounds your ex left on you have been running deep, festering, and aching for a salve. You just need one good fix from someone who cares. Nothing more, nothing less.

Which is why you figured it would’ve been easy for Sukuna to grant it to you, especially given his history of having many friends with benefits in college. But his sudden aversion to the idea was understandable. At least he was taking time to contemplate his answer.

Well, it was either that or he would ghost you for good.

—

The needles punch and poke the skin as the black ink seeps into the first layer, swollen skin puckering as Sukuna’s hand moves along his client’s back. The dragon tattoo that was given to him was an intricate design. Something he needed to practice for days so he could get the details down to a T, in contrast to his memory of the time you two went skinny-dipping.

He repaints the canvas every time the memory visits him like a rising star, distancing itself from him as the years pass, yet ever sparkling.

The moonlight was shining down on the lake, and he was tipsy with you in his grandfather’s old cabin. He still didn’t understand how he never made a move that night, especially after seeing how you’d filled out your hips, and how perfect your breasts were.

It’s a memory he’s not proud about recounting, yet he does so anyway to soothe the perpetual ache he’s had since his brain first rewired itself to see you as the love of his life.

The first instance of him being aware of his feelings was when you were babysitting his nephew with him, and how easily you meshed with his family. Jin still recalls your jokes and, without daily, cackles to himself even when Sukuna does not find your humor to be as amusing.

His feelings for you have him collared and tethered to you, heart easy for yanking, and mind filled with nothing but silent yearning.

Sukuna knows there’s no coming back if he has sex with you.

The question rattles in his brain, leaving him periodically discombobulated during the entire work day, often bumping into corners and nearly writing the first letter of your name while tattooing his client. Like a fish in a bowl, the thought of having sex with you has nowhere to go but to swim into the different spaces of his mind.

The amygdala is already forcing him to imagine what your heady wetness would taste like on his tongue. His ears ached to find out whether you were unabashed with your voice or you’d only whimper when he was balls deep in you.

“You seem distracted,” Choso, one of Sukuna’s only two friends, calls out while lying on his stomach on the tattoo bed.

“How can you tell?” Sukuna mumbled, wiping sweat off his nose with his free hand. He was working up a sweat just thinking about you.

“You’re sighing a lot. What’s up?”

Sukuna didn’t want to tell Choso about his mental anguish. It was embarrassing, like he was a teen all over again, staring at you across the classroom, and sleeping in for the entire weekend after he heard about you going on a date. Though his condition barely changed even after he had entered his twenties. It’s a fact that’ll make him bite his tongue off before he ever acknowledges it to himself.

Even then, he tells Choso about your request, making the obsidian-haired mainly jump in surprise. Luckily, Sukuna held him down with a single palm to prevent ruining the tattoo.

“You’re gonna do it, right? It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for her to notice my feelings, not the fact that I wanna bone her.”

“Come on, don’t be stupid. It’ll be like getting a fix. Maybe you’ll get over her if you just sleep with her once.”

Sukuna pulls away from Choso momentarily and stares at the mirror across the room. He sees a traitor–a man who conceals the truth for his gain. The buzzing of the needle fades into nothingness when he begins to imagine your face when he finally confesses to you.

Would you be uncomfortable? What would happen to your weekly movie nights if you rejected him?

And most important of all: what would he say to Yuuji, his six-year-old nephew, when you stop visiting during babysitting nights?

“Start with a chemistry test; kiss her. If it feels weird, don’t sleep with her. If it feels good, then do it. Easy as that,” Choso continues.

‘Easy as that’

Easier said than done. However, the thought of kissing you has never felt odd. He’s imagined the scenario too often–you’re wearing that one sundress he secretly likes, and the sun is setting. You’re both eating ice cream, and you get some on your lip. He tries to wipe it off, but instead of using his thumb, he swipes his tongue across your lip. You’re flushed, lashes fluttering as you try to look away, but Sukuna turns your chin just in time, and kisses you deeply before you can further protest.

“So, what do you think?” Choso asks, pulling Sukuna out of his heavenly daydream. It’s a rude awakening, his eyelids pressing shut in annoyance when he sees Choso’s swollen, naked skin with a halfway done tattoo.

“I’ll try it,” Sukuna says as he returns to working on the tattoo after rolling his stool closer to the bed.

“Good. I’d like updates, please.”

“I will knock down the price of your tattoo by twenty-five bucks if you don’t ask anything more about my situation.”

—

Awkwardness sits heavy in Sukuna’s living room and his throat. He was sure his voice would crack if he initiated any kind of conversation, so he kept his mouth shut, watching what was left of Lilo & Stitch. Yuuji was sleeping in Sukuna’s room. The boy was tired after running around, playing board games with you, and watching the movie's first half.

You were sitting on the floor, collecting all the toys Yuji had brought and putting them in his bag (while Sukuna burned holes into the back of your head). It had been three days of no words spoken between you two, except for when Sukuna called you to let you know that Yuuji missed you.

“Oh, he got a new Sulley plushie,” you mumble as you put a fuzzy blue toy back where it belongs. The television was playing the movie on mute so Yuji wouldn’t wake up, so you were the only one shuffling around.

“Yeah, I lost a bet to the little shit.”

You giggle before turning around, a small smile growing into a larger one. “What was the bet about?”

Your lips are plush, and when you lick them, your saliva leaves a sheen.

(Strawberry jelly, ripe cherries–maybe that’s what your lips would taste like)

He cannot stop staring at them, and you, like you’re right where you need to be. You fit like a puzzle piece in his apartment. Right at home, in his living room and his heart.

“Huh?” Sukuna’s ears grow red at the slight crack in his voice, and he prays you cannot sense his embarrassment. He was glad his hood covered his ears. He wore it like armor.

“The bet—what was it about?” you speak out again, adjusting your hair back into place, making sukuna dig crescent indents into the skin of his palm, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he imagines touching your hair and adjusting it for you instead.

“Nothing exciting. Just had to beat him in Mario Kart, and unfortunately for me, he’d been practicing.”

Your giggles grow into laughter, and Sukuna follows suit with a slight smirk, looking away towards the window instead. His heart was racing fast enough, and if he saw your laughing face, he was sure it would simply leap out of his chest.

The awkwardness sets in again when silence returns. You break it once more. “I’m really sorry for what I said three days ago,” you sheepishly say as you look up at him from your spot on the floor. You could feel yourself sinking into the ground while replaying the memory of Sukuna bolting out of the restaurant.

“No, it was my fault. I should’ve acted like a grown man and just told you I was caught off guard and needed time to process.”

‘What’s there to decide?’ his heart yelled. It’s simple: have sex with you, get you off his mind, and then he can be on his way, and so can you. Like Choso said before, it’s all about getting a fix. Sukuna reasoned with himself, maybe it’s like smoking weed for the first time–exciting, kind of addicting, but you know won’t do it again.

(That is until you end up saying the same thing the second time.)

“So…have you decided then?” You maidenly wring your hand in your lap, almost like a vestigal virgin, and his cock nearly swells at the thought.

“Ah…” Sukuna rubs his hand across his face. The words were present in his throat, but they refused to come out—a final silent protest. To save one’s friendship also means choosing to lose one’s mind; a frustrating juxtaposition.

“Look, again, there’s no pressure. I totally understand if you’re not comfortable–”

“No! Let’s kiss,” Sukuna would’ve yelled, but Yuji was still sleeping inside, and he’d be damned if the nephew he loved so much interrupted an almost life-changing conversation for him.

“Oh, like, right now? Cause Yuji–” Your face grows warm immediately, and you get the sudden urge to pull your sweater off, but the context of your conversation with Sukuna wouldn’t help the situation.

“Shit, no, I meant that we should kiss to see if, uh…having sex is gonna be…you know, weird.” Choso’s voice rings in his head like a bell. “Kind of like a chemistry test.”

You frown at Sukuna’s words. “Chemistry test?”

“Yeah, like the shit actors do in romance movies.”

Sukuna assumes that you think he’s an idiot when you shake your head and laugh sarcastically as you zip up Yuji’s bag.

That is, until you get off the floor and sit beside him on the couch, your thigh touching his muscular one. “Okay, let’s kiss.”

It was Sukuna’s turn to be surprised. “What? Just like that?” he asked as his brows rose.

“You’re the one who suggested it,” you reason. Though your tone sounds confident, your body language says otherwise as you had folded your arms while sitting upright on the comfortable couch.

“Okay, then, I guess I’m gonna kiss you,” Sukuna says while staring into your eyes, searching for a smidge of hesitation, but he sees nothing. He turns his broad shoulders to you as his hands reach your face, touch so delicate that it feels feather-light.

Looking at him through your lashes, you lean closer, palms flat on the couch, as you stabilize yourself. He notices your elbow trembling and pulls you onto his lap. You gasp in surprise, and Sukuna rolls his eyes to push through his and your flustered states.

“You’ve sat on my lap before. I’m just doing this so it’s convenient.” It’s hard not to sound strangled when the woman of your dreams stares at you with her dewy lips parted.

“Yeah, but that was when we were in a tiny car with a bunch of other people and there was no space for me to sit,” you counter while playing with the strings of Sukuna’s hoodie. You stop when Sukuna’s large hands engulf yours, and he slowly moves them, securing your hold around his neck. He pulls his hood off and looks earnestly into your eyes.

“Let’s just do this, okay?”

You nod, close your eyes, and lean in first, but are taken aback when Sukuna doesn’t mirror your actions. You lean in further, your breath hitting his lips, but he still makes no effort.

It’s petrifying, this moment. Having you on his lap alone felt like something far away from reality. Living as your lover was his ultimate fantasy, and he hoped that he’d be kissing you under those circumstances, but this was the closest he could ever get. It was all his fault, really. He never wore his heart on his sleeve like the rest of your exes, and could never get over his pride to confess to you, so he was in this predicament by his design.

It frustrated you not to see him make any effort to kiss you, so you pulled away. “This is so stupid–”

He wraps his hands around your waist and neck and pulls you to him before you can continue. “I was just mentally preparing.” His lips brush against yours when they move, and you gulp.

“Oh,” is the most you can muster up. His palm is warm against the thin fabric of your tank top. When your breathing is finally steady, you realize he’s lightly squeezing your waist.

Nothing he hasn’t done before, of course.

He starts slowly, testing the waters with a small peck to check if you’re real or want to stop. He nips your bottom lip. “Open your mouth a little, feels like I’m kissing a statue.”

“R-right,” you choke out, parting your mouth, shivering when Sukuna’s lips brush against yours to brace you.

When he finally kisses you, it feels perfect. His lips were meant to be on yours as fate intended them.

Your lips do indeed faintly taste of strawberries. He thinks it’s because of the remnants of your lip balm. Your smell, taste, and skin all feel intoxicating. His five senses have been taken over. The groans that escape your throat egg him on to kiss you deeper, making you arch into him. His fingers snake into your hair, and you gasp when he tugs it.

His hot tongue explores your mouth with no decency, a clash of saliva and teeth.

‘Temporary paradise, temporary paradise, temporary paradise’–it’s all that echoes in Sukuna’s head as his mouth devours yours. Years of pent-up feelings and frustration were being let out.

His mouth begins to stray away, leaving kisses on your chin and cheek instead. You sigh when he kisses the spot just beneath your jaw’s hinge, and you tighten your hold on his shoulders.

“Sukuna, I think–”

“Little more,” he mumbles in a drunken haze against your skin, nipping your neck while also trailing kisses down to your collarbone.

He simply cannot stop himself. Not when the person he’s wanted for years is finally in his grasp. He will clutch onto you like a vice if he needs to. However, judging by how you’re squirming and gasping in his lap, it does not seem like you want to escape.

“Ahem.”

When you hear Jin, you’re quick to harshly push Sukuna off you, nearly falling out of his lap.

“Sorry for interrupting, but I’m here to pick up my son.”

You adjust your rumpled tank top from where Sukuna almost sneaked his hand under it, and you awkwardly cough as you walk over to Sukuna’s room to get the little boy.

“Finally grew a pair, I see,” Jin snarkily remarks as he picks up his son’s backpack off the floor, and Sukuna throws a pillow at him. “Fuck off.”

“I’m happy for you, idiot. It’s about damn time.”

Oh, if he only knew. Jin, the lankier of the set of twins, would challenge Sukuna to a fight if he knew what was going on between you. As frustrating as it was for Sukuna to have unrequited feelings for you, it was even more frustrating for Jin to watch his brother endlessly pine over one woman for years. With his sanity sacrificed, Sukuna’s head was only filled with thoughts of you, going as far as basically integrating you into his little family because his heart knew that you’d fit in just right.

“Yeah, about time.”

You abruptly leave Sukuna’s apartment after Yuuji wakes up, and Jin does not say much when you only send Sukuna an awkward wave before rushing out the door.

–

The following days after the kissing experiment were bleak–at least for Sukuna. The man was glued to his phone whenever you’d update your social media with a picture of you and your girlfriends at brunch or some club. Avoidance being obvious, he decides to take the first step again. It’s either talking to you or awkwardly skirting around each other till you slowly exit each other’s lives.

He shoots you a seemingly harmless text.

Forgot my leather jacket at your place. I’m coming to get it tomorrow at 3.

–

Cameras don’t do justice to Sukuna’s devilishly handsome looks. Being a natural-born charmer with Adonis-like features makes him the center of attention in every room, so he never feels self-conscious. Of course, that also goaded people around him because those features only fueled his narcissism and rude and repulsive personality.

But still, he checks his face in his phone’s front camera before knocking on your door. Lookwise, he was the polar opposite of what your exes looked like, but he still had some confidence in himself that you didn’t completely disregard how conventionally attractive he was. He runs his hands along his chin to rub off any extra crumbs from his lunch earlier, and then he finally knocks on your door.

“In a minute!” He hears muffled shuffling and stumbling before you open the door in a frazzled daze. “Hey,” you say as you let him in. Your apartment looks the same except for the three pairs of shoes, two bags strewn on the floor, and your ransacked coat closet beside your door. “I looked everywhere but couldn’t find your jacket,” you huff out breathlessly.

“Of course you couldn't. I lied about it. I wanna talk.”

“Right now? I’m kind of running late for something,” you say, avoiding eye contact by tidying up your place, hands placing your shoes back on the shoe rack. That’s when Sukuna finally gets a good look at you. You have more makeup on than you usually do, but it’s not like the kind you wear on girls’ night, no, it’s the type one wears to make their features naturally stand out. You’re wearing a baby pink sundress that ends just above your knees, and it flutters around your smooth and freshly-shaved legs as you shuffle quickly around your living room.

His eyes narrow as he scoffs at the realization, the thought hitting him hard between his ribs. “Are you going out on a date?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, you freeze, your head slowly turning to face Sukuna in shame. The increased tension in your shoulders was enough of an answer for him. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

Sukuna isn’t sure whether what’s currently fueling his anger is jealousy or resentment.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Flashes of the incident that took place a few days ago invade his mind, more vivid than before. You look so devastatingly beautiful that he nearly convinces himself that he should accept whatever escapes your pretty little mouth. You fold your arms, and your cleavage presents itself, making it even more difficult for him to handle the sight in front of him. Oh, if only you got dolled up for him instead.

But it’s now or never. Sukuna either tells you how he feels, or you go ahead and give some random bastard a chance.

“Don’t go,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. Finally saying what’s on his mind feels liberating and mind-numbing at once—anticipation and insecurities at war.

“What? I’m not gonna do that. I have someone waiting on me.” You roll your eyes as you try to talk past him, but he grabs your arms, large hands basically encircling your biceps as he holds you in place in front of him. “Sukuna, let me go.”

“No, I won’t. Not until you listen to me. You can’t just fucking makeout with me and go out with some other guy. You can’t just make me have all these…complicated feelings and skip away like it was nothing.”

Your eyes widen as you try to twist out of his grip, but he pulls you flat against him, his chest against yours, just like a few days ago.

“You think I didn’t notice how something had clearly changed between us? Did the thought of us together feel too real for you? Well, you know what? It felt damn real for me. And the way you kissed me, fuck, it’s like you knew how I felt!” His red eyes bore into your glassy ones. Sukuna’s confession started to feel more like a rude admonition, but he didn’t care. Having his words weigh heavily on your shoulders was cathartic for him. You looked positively guilty, and it fueled something deplorable in him.

“H-how you felt?” you rasp out, still in shock, fear-stricken yet pliant enough to relax in Sukuna’s hold.

“Yeah. How I felt, how I feel. I fucking love you and I always have for the longest time,” he replied without missing a beat. His grip on you has loosened, yet he still keeps you close, the scent of your intoxicating, musky sweet perfume grounding him to earth. The man you were going to meet tonight did not deserve even to catch a waft of it. A part of him wished you’d smell exactly like this when you both would do nothing but watch movies at his house on the weekends. The wish scratches his ribcage like a desperate request, but he contains himself with a shuddered exhale.

“I didn’t kiss you to amuse you or help you escape your dry spell–no! I kissed you because I’m a selfish and arrogant asshole who wants someone who probably doesn’t feel the same way.”

Adrenaline courses through your veins in amounts that rival oxygen, making you feel lightheaded. You tightly clutch onto the bottom of Sukuna’s denim jacket to stabilize yourself. Noticing this, he leans down, his forehead against yours as he whispers one last time.

“Tell me none of it was real or that it meant nothing. Tell me so I can leave and forget this ever happened.” His breath hits your lips like a puff of smoke, menthol suffusing in the back of your mind.

It’s all becoming too real: his hands on your arms, his mouth near yours, and the hunger in his eyes.

And then the world, as Sukuna knew, ceased to exist, heaven’s light shining on his head, the heat so real that if he ran his hand through his hair, it would be oddly warm. Despite not being religious, the man always had a vision of what heaven could be.

And your lips tasted exactly like the first fruit he imagined having there.

Your lips are sweet, tart strawberries when you crash them into his. He smiles to himself as he relishes the taste, divine blessing coating his tongue as he licks into your mouth. Reward does not come easily to the greedy, but Sukuna would gladly sin for a thousand lifetimes if he could kiss your lips in each one. And to think that some undeserving asshole almost got a taste of what has belonged to him since the day he set his eyes on you.

Sukuna’s body melts onto yours as his hands haphazardly move around your waist and pull you closer to him. The kiss gets deeper as he pulls your chin down with his thumb, lapping up all the gloss you had put on for your little outing, which he was hoping you still did not plan to go to.

“Don’t go,” he gasps against your mouth. “Don’t go on that date, fuck, do you even know what you do to me?”

You try to pull away after he leaves another smacking kiss on your lips, but he continues to stay latched to your bottom lip, nipping it as he squeezes your waist. “I’ve waited years. Don’t take this away from me just yet.”

“Sukuna, you’re crazy if you think I’m gonna go out on that date after what you just said. I’ve always loved you, too.”

Your confession makes Sukuna abruptly pull away. Unlike how rough he was before with the kiss, he gently caresses your face as if touching something priceless.

“Then why’d you date all those stupid guys?” he interrogates with a gravel-rough voice.

You slide your hands up his firm chest to his neck, wrapping them around, before answering. “I thought you never liked me. You were always messing around with a different girl every week. Not to mention, I was nothing like them.”

Sukuna scoffs before pulling you back into him, the bare skin of your legs in contrast with the rough denim of his jeans. He leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, mainly because he still cannot believe what’s in front of him and because it’s a stamp of reassurance.

(Still, it was more for him than for you.)

It’s the guilt that bites. Of course, he never gave you an in. He kept you at arm’s length to get over you, and of course, that miserably (and fortunately) failed. “I fucked them cause I was trying to get over you. You are everything they weren’t, and I was afraid that if I let myself be selfish like now, I would fuck everything up between us.”

He cannot bring himself to face you, so he looks around your apartment instead. Memorabilia of your friendship are scattered everywhere: Polaroids of the two of you as kids stuck on your refrigerator, a vase he had gifted you on your birthday, and a fuzzy blanket you had always kept for him on your couch. The answer to his age-old question had been staring at him right in the face. Years of yearning reciprocated, but he was too blind to see it because of his insecurity.

He moves his hand to your cheek, almost covering the entire space, before he tips your head back slightly. “But now, I’ve been waiting so long that it’s impossible for me to think about anyone but you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. “Me too,” you whisper against his mouth before giving him a heated kiss. You push your tongue into his mouth, and he groans at the feeling of your slick muscle against his. Enveloped in gooseflesh, your knees nearly buckle when Sukuna squeezes your plush hips before snaking his hand to your ass. He walks you back to your bedroom, lips still on yours as he haphazardly unzips the back of your dress. It’s easy for him to move with fluidity, like it’s a script that he’s been practicing for ages, synapses firing each time your hold tightens on him when he sips a kiss from you.

Your dress, his pants and t-shirt are on the floor. The two of you are only clad in your underwear as Sukuna lowers his body on top of yours, the delicious heat of his abdomen on yours.

“Been dreaming of this for so long.” You can only whimper in response when Sukuna nips at the column of your throat. He kisses the spot where your necklace rests between your breasts as he slides the strap of your bra down.

He pauses for a moment, looking up only to find the most beautiful sight of all–you with your rubicund cheeks, glossy parted lips, and half-lidded eyes. Your hands stroke up the back of his neck, into his pink hair, where the buzzed hair above his nape is slightly darker than his crown. The groan he lets out when you scratch his head reverberates within your ribs, making you arch your back. Sukuna takes that as a sign to take your nipple in his mouth, and his mind immediately takes him back to the day you two went skinnydipping–when he first laid his eyes on your perfect, pert breasts.

That night has fueled his fantasies for many months following it. The way your nipples glistened under the firelight, how they’d wrinkled because of how you were shivering after the swim. A gross part of him didn’t even want to wash the towel you borrowed after the swim.

He feels like he can taste the freshwater of the lake when he sucks on the sensitive flesh. Only this time, your skin is dewy with sweat, and some body lotion that smells intoxicatingly sweet. He grinds his bulge onto your clothed pussy, and you gasp at the pressure.

“Sukuna, please, I need you now,” you grind up to him, and moan out when he pinches your nipple, making you firmly flex your thigh at the sting.

“Let me take my time, needy girl.”

He kisses down your body, savoring the smoothness of your skin, dragging his nose along the length of your abdomen to the center of your mons. Your panties are soaked, the gusset saturated with your juices.

Sukuna’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when he peels the fabric down, the sight of your pussy, making his heart race sinfully.

“Do you know what my ultimate fantasy was for the longest time?” The man wasn’t even looking at you when he asked that question, eyes hypnotized by the sight before him.

When you don't reply, he bites the flesh of your inner thigh, his canines leaving a deeper imprint than expected. You whimper at the brazen expression of possessiveness, but Sukuna seems unapologetic about being the reason behind your surprised state. “Don’t be quiet with me, pretty girl.”

“What was it?” you whisper.

“Taking you on the forest floor that night. Rubbed my cock raw for months after that day. Thought about eating this pretty pussy out after pulling you out of the water, with your hair wet and clinging to your body.”

It was filthy, disgusting, and gross. You could only grimace at the overstimulation of feeling leaves and twigs poking you from all angles, and the water only only making the forest soil stick to your body in crevices that would be a nightmare to clean in just a single shower.

But there was something so heady and hot about the whole situation–how you imagined him eating you out like he was a starved beast who’d just had his first meal after days after hunting, your cunt’s juices being his only sustenance. His tongue deep in your pussy, pushing you to the edge with every lick and suck.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Your voice comes out broken when he lick up your slit, tongue circling your little clit, nub too swollen and sensitive to directly touched.

“Don’t fuck with me right now. You wouldn’t be laying with your legs spread open like a slut if you didn’t want my cock that night.”

Sukuna was not wrong. He never was. Especially when it came to you. Your best friend was scarily tuned to your wants and needs, and how your mind worked, almost like he was programmed to be the perfect man for you.

When you didn’t reply, he smirked against your pussy before sucking your clit, leaving little kisses on it after your thighs jolted at the sensitivity. His rough, tattooed hands stroked your thighs to calm you down, but your cries only egged him on to further overstimulate you.

He imagined being on that forest floor, taking from you what he deserved, what belonged to him since the dawn of time, since your atoms came into being and combined. Forever intertwined within nature and cosmic law.

You see stars on your plain white ceiling when you cum, involuntarily grinding into Sukuna’s mouth as he continues to flatten his tongue and drag it up your cunt. “Sukuna, please, I can’t wait anymore,” you breathe out, legs shivering as he pulls away.

“You want my dick?” Sukuna cockily asks, as he pulls his boxers down, his cock standing red and proud. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but the context changed your feelings about it.

You could take it.

(Well, maybe.)

You nod, babbling about how you were wet enough, but that still wasn’t enough for the egotistical tattoo artist. His pecs glistened with sweat as he leaned over you, his dog tag necklace meeting your pendant as he kissed your neck.

“Tell me how bad you want. Tell me how bad you want your best friend to fuck you,” he whispered against your skin, and your brows furrow at his command. His assertive gaze quickly urges you to spit out what you’d been wanting for years.

“I want your cock to stretch me open, Sukuna. Stretch me good and fuck me till I scream,” you bashfully ramble, looking away, but Sukuna tips your chin back with a finger, staring deep into your eyes. There’s something so beautiful yet sensually arousing about how shy you are, a heady juxtaposition that only rushes more blood to his thickened cock.

“Good, now, tell me you love me, baby girl,” his deep voice rumbles against your warm cheek, and you comply.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you gasp when his hands sneak down, playing with your clit once more.

“Again,” he commands as he kisses your earlobe.

“I love you.”

“Again.” He kisses down your neck, sucking the thin skin by your collarbone.

“I love you, Sukuna Ryomen. I always have and always will.”

He looks up at you this time, and kisses you square on your lips, your heady wetness still fresh on his tongue.

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

It doesn’t take him any effort to split your legs open; you’re needy and pliant, already wet for two of his thick fingers to easily slip inside. You whine when he pumps them in and out a little, just to prep you for his ruddy cock, the tip already dripping beads of precum.

The head of Sukuna’s cock is warm, stretching your pussy good as you slowly take in every inch. Your wet walls cling to his phallus, already spasming when he adjusts himself on top of you, leaning over as his dog tag dangles above your head.

When you nod, he kisses you before slowly rocking his hips against yours. Your eyes follow the hypnotizing pendulous movement of his necklace, and you bite your lips as his hips move at a relentless pace.

“Shit, my gorgeous girl, all you needed was your best friend to fuck you. Look at you–fit so well around my cock.” Sukuna leans back, his pace uninterrupted as he slots his hands under your knees and places your legs on his shoulder. He kisses your ankle in hopes to soothe you, but you only grow more restless, hips moving up to keep up with him.

You know he’s reached his limit when his hips begin to stutter, spurts of his cum painting your walls white, its warmth making you shiver as Sukuna groans. He rubs his hand down to your flank, patting it to check in on you, and you nod as a reply.

Sukuna nearly topples over you when he lies back down. You decide that you can wait a couple of minutes before washing up, relishing being held in his muscled embrace.

Only when you’re finally pulled out of your post-sex haze do you notice a small tattoo on the inner side of his bicep–a word, in Japanese. It looks new and completely unrelated to his usual, harsh, and brutalistic art style. His body was basically a canvas covered in doodles. Whatever spare skin he had was used for practice during his apprenticeship days. Your fingers are drawn to the inked patch of skin, tracing along the unfamiliar letters.

Sukuna opens an eye, still tired, but amused at your curiosity. “Your name,” he roughly mumbles as he pulls you tighter to his chest. His cock aches from how sensitive it is considering that it softened up inside you, though, he’s too comfy holding you to do anything about it. (There’s also something so filthy about plugging you up with his cum.)

“Huh?” you ask, still busy tracing the tattoo.

“That tattoo–it’s your name but in Japanese script.”

There’s not a lot that Sukuna has been passionate about growing up; art was always more of a hobby for him than his passion. He never imagined himself working hard, or going through mentally or physically strenuous labor to make money, but your smile? He’d do anything for it, no matter how arduous his effort to bring it would have to be.

Especially for the deeply lovesick look you had on your face, right now.

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