Chapter Text
In the single stall bathroom, you use a cupped hand to spoon water into your mouth from the sink. You want to splash it on your face but then you run the risk of wrecking your make-up. In the mirror, you look into your own eyes and run your fingers through your hair. Even though you’ve been in here for a couple minutes now, your heart won’t stop pounding. Why so nervous? You’re getting what you wanted…
As a matter of fact, Sukuna has essentially fallen into your lap. You just have to accept that everyone at Sabbath might end up thinking of you as ‘easy.’ Or they might not even care.
The thought of Sukuna potentially sleeping with his clients crosses your mind and you decide that he’s the slut, not you. With a flourish intended to build yourself up, you reapply your lip gloss.
Now that you’re a little more confident in your decisions, you open the bathroom door by a sliver. Poking your head out, you look to the end of the hall to ensure that Gojo and Geto have left. The corridor is empty and Sukuna isn’t there waiting for you, either. You step out, head on a swivel, looking for him. The music swells again in your ears as you re-enter the parlor turned dance floor.
Familiar faces appear in the crowd, but you’re using any focus that you have left to zero in on Sukuna. It isn’t hard to find his pink hair hovering over most everyone else.
A frown creases your forehead when you notice that Sukuna has already found a dance partner – a thin girl with long black hair in a ponytail. You didn’t perceive Sukuna to be the dancing type, imagining he was making an exception to get into your pants. As you’re watching him, it becomes clear that he has plenty of experience and your face gets heated.
Maybe you took too long in the bathroom and he got bored, but you aren’t about to start feeling sorry for yourself. If the new game is jealousy, you can play it just as well.
Scanning the room, you’re weighing your options of who might fit the bill. You stalk over to Megumi who is still sitting against his toolbox, currently rolling a joint.
“Megumi,” you snap and he looks up at you with lidded eyes. “Who’s here that Sukuna hates? Like really fucking hates.”
“Uh…,” he looks around, “...Maybe you should ask Mei or Shoko?”
“I dun have time to find ‘em,” you slur. Megumi chews his lip, deciding against commenting on your drunken state.
“C’mon, Megumiiii,” you whine, getting impatient.
“Ugh. My… dad is here?” He pulls a face and you cock your head to the side.
“Why is your dad at your work party where there’s drugs and you know what, actually, never mind,” you ramble. Although you are curious how Mr. Fushiguro ties in with your social circle and why Sukuna might dislike him.
“He’s supportive,” Megumi shrugs.
“That’s great. Where is he, though?” You press and he points to the table of liquor bottles. Your eyes land on a familiar face – maybe you’ve seen his photo or maybe Megumi just looks like him.
“Hold my purse would you, buddy?” You dangle the bag in front of Megumi who reluctantly takes it. As you step away, he calls after you.
“Don’t make it weird! Please don’t–” His voice fades into the background, electronic music overtaking your senses while you join the group crowding the alcohol.
“Care to dance?” You ask, batting your eyelashes. His irises flash under the dark curtain of his hair. A charming scar splits his lip and you’re loving how it looks when he smiles at you mischievously. If it doesn’t work out with Sukuna…, you shake that thought from your mind, not wanting to go against Megumi’s wishes tonight.
Mr. Fushiguro throws back a shot full of brown liquid and offers one to you as well. I really, really shouldn’t…, but the impulse control has left you since the supply closet vodka started taking over, so you accept it.
He’s talking to you while you choke down the alcohol, leaving a drop at the bottom of the tiny glass.
“Huh?” is all you can manage.
“Toji,” he introduces himself again, not knowing that Megumi sent you over here. You give your own name and grab his wrists, dragging him out to the center of the shop.
Toji brings his rough hands to your waist and spins you around, pulling your back end flush against his hips. Your arms drape over his and you tip your head back against his chest. Shutting your eyes for a moment, you attempt to get a handle on the spinning feeling in your head.
The music encompassing you both is dreamy with an edge to it. You’re having a difficult time focusing and there is a high chance that your grinding against him is sloppy and off-beat, but it doesn’t seem like Toji minds much.
When you open your eyes to peek into the mass of undulating bodies again, Sukuna’s forehead tattoo is easy to find. His red glare is boring into you, the lower half of his face hidden by the ponytail of his dance partner so any sentiments he might have can’t be read. A smirk cracks your lips because that moment is when Toji decides to lean down and whisper into your ear about how amazing your ass feels. You thank him by drawing your hands up his forearms to your breasts and then into his soft black hair.
Maybe it’s because you’ve fostered this connection with Sukuna today, or it could be that you’re certifiably wasted at this point, but it feels like the tension is rolling off of him and crashing onto you. You hold his gaze while Toji grinds into your rear and you can’t hide your expression that must be positively erotic.
Time passes with a few more songs, neither you nor Sukuna relenting from dancing with other people. The genres cycle through metal, pop, R&B, and you question the sanity of whoever set up this playlist. Somehow, the deejay is doing their job to seamlessly blend one melody into the next. Different girls came up to Sukuna often and you thought you might have seen him sweating, trying to keep up, but his face didn’t betray any discomfort.
At some point you were picked out of Toji’s arms and you found yourself in the capable hands of a tall, handsome blonde. Dark glasses added to his mysterious visage, but his dancing skills were undeniable. He held you in the air, spun you around, and dipped you down, causing you to throw your head back and laugh. Even Choso cut in and you thrashed around together with abandon.
You want it to be painfully obvious to Sukuna that you’re having way more fun than him. Even if there are throes of women waiting to hang off his perfectly sculpted arms, your confidence doesn’t take a hit. You must give credit to your own roster of handsome men who don’t disappoint.
Apparently Sukuna has had enough when Choso puts his hands on your shoulders and draws you in close. You were so near to his face that you could see the light spot on his nose that had scabbed over when his face tattoo was healing. Sukuna had been the one to do it, and it quickly became clear that he wasn’t going to give you over to his younger employee.
“Pigtails.” Sukuna’s scathing voice came from behind you, directed at Choso. He maneuvered around you and into view, grabbing the other man’s elbow and yanking him away, a finality evident in his motions.
Not one to rock the boat, Choso lifts his forearms to feign innocence and turns away without so much as a thank you.
The peak of your drunkenness has begun to wane due to your efforts to sweat it out, but you’re still giving in to your impulsive behaviors. You stick out your lower lip, pouting up at Sukuna while you slip your arms around his waist.
“Aw, you scared him off,” you lament and decide that you won’t yet reward him with any movement from your hips. He’ll have to suffer for a moment after watching you flit around so easily with his competition. “We were just having fun.”
“Nasty little slut, looking at me while you were rubbing up on Fushiguro like that. You know he’s even older than I am, right?” he spits, venom in his voice. It appears that he’s been waiting to give you a verbal lashing. “Flirting with Nanami and Choso and whoever the hell else… you’re a goddamn tease,” he’s scowling, digging his painted nails into the naked flesh of your upper arms. It’s nothing compared to five hours under the needle, so it doesn’t phase you – if anything, it’s enthralling.
“You started it,” you remind him coyly. “And I couldn’t even count the number of girls trying to get it in with you… Popular with your clients, huh?”
The beat warps again, song climbing in volume. Flashing lights around you bouncing off the walls change from a colorful array to strobing black and white. A fog machine clicks on somewhere in the room and you briefly hope that Nobara has stopped piercing for tonight.
Sukuna harshly spins you, dragging his hands down your sides until they’re resting on the front of your hips. Matching his energy, you move your ass in circles and it’s impossible to hold in a breathy sigh. He leans his head on top of yours, voice coming out just above the shell of your ear.
“I don’t sleep with those women. If I fuck someone who’s paying me tons of money then that doesn’t make me any better than an OnlyFans bimbo, does it?”
You can’t argue with the morality he’s set for himself, so there’s no real response to offer. You’ve never given it up to a customer, either.
“Mm,” you hum, bracing yourself in his arms as you sway. Tilting your chin to meet his eyes, you take note of his pupils, black holes eclipsing the ruby of his irises.
“You telling me I’m special?” You have to speak up over the volume of the music, and you don’t mind if anyone hears you bragging.
Sukuna grunts, intentionally disregarding the question. When he rolls his hips against you, his left hand slips around to the inside of your bare thigh. You elicit a gasp, and you’re trying to make good on your deal to dance with him but you can only writhe pathetically.
The strobing lights make everyone look like they’re moving in slow motion. You’re grateful to the fog hovering in the air creating a veil because Sukuna decides to slide his fingers up against your panties. Shockwaves crackle in your abdomen and through your chest, the hair on the back of your neck standing up.
“Sukuna-”
“So warm…,” he mumbles and nips at your ear playfully. “...You better not be wet from dancing with those other pricks.” His voice is low and punishing. The combination of his tone and the subtle ministrations of his fingers causes you to tremble. You fall weak in his grasp, melting against him with your mouth open and your hand meeting his wrist. Squeezing your thighs around his knuckles makes him snicker.
“C’mon… you were having so much fun a second ago. Why don’t you dance some more?”
He tugs on the front of your underwear, pulling it against your folds. It’s uncomfortable and you’re forced to follow the motion as he puppeteers you, shifting forward, up, and back.
As erotic as it is that he’s playing with you like this in the middle of his business surrounded by everyone you know, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough dancing for tonight. It takes gathering all your strength to twist against him and when you’re face to face, he shoves his leg between yours.
“This again?” You ask breathlessly. He manhandles your arms to put them up on his shoulders, then slides his palms down your spine to meet the curve of your back.
“Move,” he demands, and you submit. It’s not much of a dance when you’re essentially dry-humping him. The ridges of his quadriceps feel amazing – you won’t deny it when you can’t stop unabashedly rolling your lower half up and down his thigh. Sukuna is watching you from a prime angle, leaning back and smirking.
“Sukuna, can I…,” you start, cheeks flushed.
“Hmm. Had enough, missy?” He responds softly, pretending to feel sorry for you.
Once again, the alcohol in your system allows you to be as direct as possible.
“It’s so crowded here…. Let’s be alone. Will you take me to your place?” Looking up at him through your lashes, you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. It’s gone once you meet his eyes, replaced by a cheeky grin. He wraps a strong arm around your back, pushing you against him. Your breasts are flush with his torso, your crotch pulsing where his leg meets his hip, and everything about this situation fills you with a deep want.
“Meet me outside in five.”
With that, he releases you and stalks off, undoubtedly to leave any party responsibilities in Yuji’s hands. You feel a slight breeze and notice that your skirt is hiked so high around your waist you have to hurriedly yank it down to cover yourself.
+ + + +
After bidding a rapid farewell to Mei, Shoko, and others, you retrieved your purse from Megumi who refused to meet your eyes. You shrug it off, grabbing a paper cup of water as you exit the shop. Back on the street, everything seems so tranquil without the blasting music and noisy human chatter. You’re enjoying the crisp, cool air when Sukuna emerges soon after you, unceremoniously handing you a helmet with a visor.
“Let’s go,” he quips, throwing an arm around your shoulder and leading you down the street.
He brings you to a sleek black and pink Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle.Of course, why would Sukuna ever have a safe mode of transport?
“Here,” he says, helping you to place the helmet over your head. “I only have the one,” he explains, forgoing the skull protection so you can wear his regular gear. He puts on a leather jacket and you pull your cardigan out of your bag as well. He flings his leg over to get seated and directs you how to saddle up on the back. Even though it takes a minute in your heels, it doesn’t bother him and he gets a kick out of your struggle.
“Are you sure you’re good to drive?” You have to ask. Given how you’re feeling, there’s no chance you would get on the road right now. He scoffs, and it appears that’s the most reassurance you’re going to get.
“Hold on. Arms around my waist, okay?”
You comply, hands cupping his chest with a vice grip. It’s clear he doesn’t feel concerned about his level of intoxication because within moments, you’re hurtling through downtown, squeezing by cars and dodging jaywalkers. You have to shut your eyes sometimes, fear coiling within you while the speedometer climbs under Sukuna’s hand. It’s not like you’ve never ridden on the back of a guy’s bike before, but the way Ryomen Sukuna swerves and runs stop signs is downright illegal. The heat, motion, and the vibration of the machine has quite the effect on your nether-regions, and you’re very aware of your naked thighs touching Sukuna’s midsection.
The adrenaline pumps throughout your entire body for what seems like way too long, and Sukuna barely slows down once you’ve reached a more residential area. He turns up a steep hill and the roar of the motorcycle peaks again while it climbs. Ahead is a black expanse of forest darker than the night sky, bleached from the lights of the skyscrapers behind you. Anxiety pokes into the corners of your mind, finally reappearing after you’ve been sobered by the terrifying commute. The bike cuts into the darkness, canopy overhead swallowing any brightness except for the headlamps illuminating the road.
Eventually, you roll to a stop in front of his house; a modern building, thin and tall from what you can observe but it's hard to discern any detail in the deep black of the trees. When he turns off the vehicle you’re plunged into darkness, causing you to fumble around while your eyes adjust.
Sukuna senses your unsteadiness and lifts you from the bike with ease, popping the helmet off your head and carrying it under his arm.
You tag along behind his silhouette, a couple paces back to follow the route he snakes down the walkway that leads to the front stairs. With one shoe up on the first step an automatic light pops on, red in color, making the situation that much more ominous. The rhinestones on your shirt cast white reflections on the face of the building and glitter across Sukuna’s back.
He turns to talk down at you, ascending the staircase backwards without looking, comfortable in his domain.
“Are you scared yet, baby?”
You squint in the new light and watch his teeth flash into his signature grin. There’s no denying that your heart is pounding, but you’re also aware of your desperation to run up to his door, throw it open, and strip to your underwear… so you can’t really say you’re scared. You opt to shake your head, eyes not moving from his while you climb.
“We’ll see how quickly that changes,” he purrs, opening his front door and ushering you in with a warm hand on the small of your back. It’s still dark inside but the red glow from outside pours in through a window and Sukuna doesn’t bother to hit the lights while he sets down the helmet and his keys.
“Why would I be scared?” You say, peeling off your cardigan and tucking it back in your bag, “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
As if on cue, Sukuna produces a three-inch knife from an unknown origin. Your heart skips a beat and your purse drops to the floor. You back up against the wall. There’s no way…
The jacket makes him look bigger than ever before, and the windy motorcycle ride turned his hair into a jagged halo. He reminds you of a wild animal when he closes the gap between you in one stride, bringing the blade flat under your chin. Terror washes over you, eyes wide and aware of every muscle twitch in his jaw.
“Fuck, I love watching you squirm,” he groans, and you take it as an admission of innocence — that he’s only doing this to get off and not to bring you harm.
His free hand slides over your chest and he presses the flat of his palm under your collarbone to seek out your racing heart. He releases a salacious moan that reverberates down to your crotch, causing you to push your thighs together.
“You’ll be a good girl, right? You’re going to let me do whatever I want.” It’s not much of a question, but at this point he must sense how willing you are to bend to his desires. It’s just that you didn’t quite expect this to escalate so quickly, right here in the entryway….
Scared to nod with your neck against the knife, you part your lips to respond. Sukuna uses the moment to put his mouth on yours, drinking in your panicked breath. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to slip his tongue deep into your throat. The sensation of a steel ball tapping against your teeth reminds you, oh, yeah, his tongue is pierced…. Saliva pools in your jaw while his muscle slides against yours, and you slowly move a shaky hand to his abdomen, hoping to ground yourself. Fingers angled down, you slide the ends of your digits under his waistband, feeling the softness of flesh stretched over his hip bone.
He grunts and tears himself away, bringing the knife with him and leaving you with spit dripping onto your chin. Your chest heaves dramatically, adrenaline coursing in your system while he stares you down.
Your voice comes out a whisper, “Sukuna-”
“Don’t talk yet,” he demands, lazily holding up the knife. “Unless you want me to use this.” He flicks it, silver catching the red light from the window. He uses the bounce of the reflection to drink in your appearance, a band of light trailing up to your chest from your thighs.
“Strip,” is his next command. A blink of time passes before you lean down to your shoes, bracing yourself against the wall as you slip them off. Next, you unzip your skirt, sliding it down to your ankles. You stop to look at him, breath catching because he’s bathed in the crimson color of the porchlight, following his own order and throwing his coat on the tile in front of the door. A warm wetness spills in your underwear when his fingers go to undo the button at the front of his pants and he hasn’t moved his eyes from you.
“Hurry up now,” He urges, voice almost kind. Your sheer top is the next to go, and you’re silently relieved that he didn’t cut it off of you because it wasn’t cheap. Finally, you’re standing there in your undergarments; the plain red bralette and black satin panties adorned with one tiny scarlet bow. Your midsection tattoos are fully exposed now – the bird on your sternum, the kitsune mask on your stomach, and the snake winding up your ribcage.
Now Sukuna is palming himself over his trousers, seemingly at a loss to make any other requirements for you as his exhales become long, shuddering breaths. You follow suit, hand cupping your mound and stroking your fingers against the soft fabric.
He stops to yank his tight shirt over his head and just as you catch the god-like vision of his perfectly sculpted muscles basked in a ruby glow, the outside light clicks off, plunging you both into darkness. Taking advantage of the cover, Sukuna is on you again with calloused hands on your waist, planting his lips to your neck. Your heart is thundering out of your chest because you can’t see the knife anymore, unsure if he’s cast it aside or planning to use it soon.
He sinks down your body in a rush, dragging teeth, tongue, and open mouth across the soft valleys of your skin. It’s difficult to contain the whimpers and sighs that stutter out of you, and your hands find his shoulders when he’s kissing at the space under your belly button.
“Please,” you start, gently rocking your hips, “I can’t take it….”
Sukuna’s eyes flash up to you, searing coals glittering and the whites wide from an unknown thought. It crosses your mind that it’s a warning of what’s to come.
He drags the back of the knife up your leg, lips still pressed to the curve of your lower belly. A shudder runs through you at the delicate sensation of the cold steel making patterns on your flesh.
In one smooth motion, Sukuna leans back, one palm digging into your hip bone, and he swipes the knife under the fabric of your panties. You gasp, the blade frigid next to the heat of your arousal.
“I said don’t speak, didn’t I?” With that, the knife pulls forward and easily tears the satin of one leg hole. He drags the tip along your stomach before dipping it down to the other side, slicing the elastic. Now useless, the shred of fabric drops to the ground.
“Oops,” he giggles as draws his face closer to your weeping cunt. “Got you.”
You look down and see a small cut has appeared at the apex of your thigh— a tiny thing that bleeds nonetheless. His thumb goes to it and he presses down, causing you to throw your head against the wall and grit your teeth. It was barely noticeable at first, but as the pressure increases, the pain tears through your veins and you cry out.
“AAGH!!”
“Shit…,” Sukuna hisses and doesn’t waste any more time before he slides the same thumb against your slit.
“You’re so wet… love the pain like I do, huh?”
His tongue goes to the sweet spot between your legs, flat against your skin and the round steel of his piercing rolls against your clit. You choke back another shout and release a heavy sigh, the new sensation delivering a warmth that swims through your organs and dulls the throbbing pain.
The knife must be abandoned, having served its purpose, because as his thumb slides into your core, the other hand grips the meat of your uninjured thigh and hikes it over his shoulder. Your cheeks are hot at the way that Sukuna stretches you open, one leg draped over him while the thick digit massages your walls. His fingers are collecting the slick that gushes out of you while you roll your hips. Your thigh is held in place with a bruising grip.
Sukuna drinks you in, the steady motion of his finger accompanying the rhythmic swipes from his tongue. Greedily, he dips into your opening, piercing and all, nose tight against the patch of your pubic hair. He groans inside you, ministrations from his fingers surprisingly gentle and using every inch of his tongue to draw out your breathy moans.
When you’re a trembling mess he pulls back, mouth open and glistening from the wetness. The tongue ring flashes as he licks his lips and draws it back into his mouth before swallowing theatrically. When he takes his hands off you, he smiles devilishly, the thickness of his thumb dragging against your clit when it slides out.
Still on his knees before you, Sukuna’s sopping wet hand tucks into his waistband and hurriedly pulls out his dick. Sliding his fist up and down the shaft, the fact that you both know he’s using what came out of you to lubricate his movements causes him to moan shamelessly.
You still can’t see very well but from where you’re standing, the show is impressive.
“God, I want you to fuck me,” you concede, breathless, wondering if he’ll choose to punish you again for speaking up.
He laughs at that, eyes lit up under a creased brow as he focuses on his cock.
“God? Use my fucking name, you brat.”
You want to tell him how self-centered he is and take control, imagining how you would throw your body over his, shoving him flat on the ground and sit on his dick without even a warning…. But the idea of him throwing you around is more appealing, so you’ll continue to do as he says.
He must have read your face because he smirks.
“Don’t forget to ask politely.”
You swallow and delicately bring your fingers to a raised nipple, brushing over the fabric of your one remaining article of clothing that hides a final secret.
“Sukuna, please. I need you to fuck me.”
“Tsk,” he pumps his cock twice before rocking onto his heels and standing back up. “Overly eager, aren’t you…. Why should I rush our first time?” His voice is sickly sweet as he tucks himself back into his pants. The implication of being taken by him again in the future makes you swoon. You thought maybe this would be a one-time drunken encounter, one of the notches on his belt.… Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet; he could still be playing around.
“Look, I… I don’t want to rush… but–” You can’t help but graze over your nipples again, glancing up at him. It must look pretty pathetic, but Sukuna likes something about it because he comes closer to you once more, pressing his hard-on against your hip.
“It’s alright baby, I’ll play with you again and again…,” he graces your cheek with feather-light kisses. “...Until you break...or until I tire of you.”
There it is… the promise of detachment; he’s perfectly capable of tossing you aside after using you.
The only problem is that at this moment you couldn’t care less one way or the other; whether he ghosts you or falls in love with you or any other outcome. The way he talks down to you is only contributing to the heat boiling within, appreciating his technique of instilling fear mixed with saccharine intermissions.
“Please,” you whisper it again, bringing your palms to his shoulder blades and running your fingertips down his back. “Please…”
Asking so nicely earns you another open-mouthed kiss with the piercing bouncing around on your tongue. You groan, he rubs his bulge across your stomach, and you rake your nails across his skin, hard.
“Fuck-” he starts, incredulous. “You bitch.”
“You don’t mean that,” you sing, smile on your lips as you do it again. His skin collects under your fingernails and he arches against you.
“Hah… save it for later. You’ll get what’s coming to you,” he grabs the fat of your ass, finally tearing you away from the wall.
With one hand moving up to your elbow, he drags you to a dark hallway and shoves you further in. Surely it’s not his full strength but you still stumble — a reminder of who’s really in control.
“Up the stairs,” comes his voice from behind you, commanding.
With one arm searching for purchase, you move forward slowly into the unknown.