Work Text:
It was only a matter of time.
Ever since your split, or rather your ending of things, you’ve become more like each other’s professional antagonists. The friend part of your “friends with benefits” status disappeared not the moment you stopped, but the moment you continued your romantic pursuits.
It was impossible not to notice. He’d turn his nose up at you, scowl at whoever you brought around, and his attitude towards you continuously got worse.
And because he went out of his way to make sure you knew of his displeasure, you made sure he knew of every escapade you had. Serious, not serious, flings, one-night stands—you flaunted it all because his behavior pissed you off.
Before you two crossed that line you promised nothing would change and acknowledged that it wouldn’t go on forever. Yet there he goes, changing things and acting as though it was supposed to go on forever.
Now you two can’t even speak without the conversation turning passive aggressive or plain aggressive. Can’t even be in each other’s presence without it turning into a game of who can piss the other off the fastest.
The worst part about it is that your attraction to him lingers beneath the insults, hidden under the patronizing tone, seeping through every mention of his name with feigned disinterest—because truthfully, you love that he’s frustrated. And despite you two no longer fucking, he still manages to turn you on.
Even when you’re sleeping with someone else your mind drifts back to Sukuna.
The way he remembered every curve of your body, understood what you enjoyed, sensed when to be rough and when to be gentle, and always knew exactly what to say.
Since the start of your prior arrangement, you’re not sure if you’ve ever reached a climax without him flashing through your mind, whether alone or with help. Though memories of your past run-ins only make you nastier towards him; sexual frustrations coupled with you missing him causing you to escalate any petty argument he starts almost immediately.
But it’s only a matter of time.
“Here you go…” you sighed.
“What the fuck does that mean? I’m serious. Go ask one of those dudes you be fucking, don’t ask me.”
You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re going to act like this over a charger? Seriously?”
“Better wait till your friends get here. Nobody told you to come this early, you’re lucky I even let you inside.”
He got up from his spot on the sofa and walked past you. “Or you could get the fuck out and go back home where your own charger is, I don’t care.”
“Sukuna.” You trailed after him as he made his way deeper into the house, your calls going unanswered. He was flat out ignoring you now. You scoffed as you stepped into the doorway of his bedroom, watching him rummage around for a moment before placing his phone on the charger.
The ding of your phone draws both of your attention—a text, nothing important.
A simple question that required a simple answer—yes or no—however, you made sure to answer in the longest way possible because you knew what Sukuna thought. You could feel Sukuna’s gaze searing into you as you responded, suppressing a smug grin while your nails tapped lightly against the screen.
“Get out.”
After sending the message, you glance back at him, your confusion meeting his stoic expression. “I am out.”
“No.” He walks towards you. “You can either wait outside or find somewhere to go, but you can’t stay here.”
“What, why? I’m not leaving just to come back, that’s stupid.” You roll your eyes.
He steps closer.
“Get out.”
“No.”
Closer.
“Get. Out.” His eyes blaze as they lock onto yours, faces closer than they’ve been in a year. His irritation is plain, and your satisfaction at it is just as clear.
“Make me.”
Like hitting a checkpoint, that’s all it takes for the two of you to move past the pretense that this ever really ended.
Because it never did.
And you could feel it in the way his hands grabbed both sides of your face as your lips collided, urgent and messy. You could feel it in the way his hands glided down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. And when your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, he let out an annoyed tsk.
You can tell he’s vexed. It shows in the way he tosses you onto the bed without much care before climbing over you. You welcome his weight, reaching to wrap your arms around him, but he brushes them aside.
“Don’t touch me.”
Your eyes widen before you glare at him, earning a low chuckle in return, prompting you to smack your teeth. He draws you closer, his gaze locked on your face as he positions himself between your legs and yanks you toward him. Your arousal has dampened your vigor, the want you had been trying to ignore now rearing its head.
You keep your expression calm, trying to ignore the pooling in your panties at the press of his bulge against your clothed core. Still as big as you remember.
“Then, you don’t touch me either,” you say, crossing your arms.
“No?” He tries to get up, but your legs wrap around him, your expression hiding any hint of annoyance at his attempt to move.
“What? Can’t you just go run to one of your little fuck buddies like you’ve been doing?” Sukuna pulls your legs away from himself and tosses them aside.
Your face twists in exasperation at his tone, but before you can fire back with a snarky remark, he flips you onto your stomach.
“Did they finally get tired of you?” He hikes your ass up, barely giving you time to react, so your upper body flops against the mattress awkwardly. “Is that why you came here hours before everyone else?”
“You’re so fu—” You begin to push yourself up to argue, but he shoves you back down, pressing your face into the bed and muffling your voice.
Sukuna’s hand skims over your back, your hips, then to your butt where he lands a hard smack. You flinch at the sharp sting, biting back your reaction, and he immediately draws you back toward him.
“Or is it that you got tired of them?” Another smack.
“You’re good for that. Aren’t you?” Another. “Shameless as ever.” He presses his hand into the warm spot as your chest rises and falls rapidly.
“Shut up,” you let out a shaky breath. “Just do it already.”
“Do what?”
You release an overly dramatic sigh, hoping to make it clear that his question is dumb, but he ruts himself into your ass one good time and it’s like a switch flips in you. Your sigh veers off into a moan in defiance of your earlier efforts and your back arches into his touch.
Sukuna hums with interest, as though you’ve just confirmed a suspicion. “Even after all this time,” he starts, leaning down so his chest rests against your back, his arms sliding from your hips to your stomach.
Your breath hitches as he roams your body—big hands sliding under your shirt and running along your bare abdomen, then up to cup your breast. When he positions you to hold yourself up onto your hands your head lolls to the side, quiet gasps escape your lips as your body shivers from his mapping.
Without warning one of his hands slip beneath your shorts and you lurch forward in shock. One of your hands follow, landing on top of his, but all you could do is leave it there. Because as soon as he began stroking your panty clad mound lazily, it was as if all your strength dissipated.
Sukuna kept at his excruciatingly slow pace even as you dropped back onto the bed, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your underwear cold against you; your arousal smearing on you as you rock into his hand feverishly.
“It’s still mine,” he finishes, condescendingly, then withdraws his hand.
You let out a long, high whine at the loss of contact, pressing back against his frame. The sense of being intentionally complicated and irritating has long faded.
Right now, just as you’re on the verge of finally getting what you’ve been missing, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same way. He’s clearly on a different wavelength, drawing out the moment with deliberate slowness. Sukuna knows exactly what you want, what you’re expecting—yet he toys with you, pushing and pulling as if amused.
He tugs your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, not all the way off, and stills you when you try to remove them. Pushing you deeper into the mattress, Sukuna delivers another smack to your ass when you reach behind for him after hearing him take off his pants.
Then he does nothing. Or at least nothing you wanted.
Your back is arched to its limit, dripping cunt exposed to the cool air of the room, body curved at an angle that will probably cause you to ache when you get up, but all he does is stare.
You feel his hands ghost your skin a few times, but he doesn’t touch. The subtle sound of him, presumably, stroking himself makes you reach between your own legs, wanting to relieve some of the pressure building. But he forces your hand away.
“Kuna…” you whimpered, turning your head best as you could. “Hurry up.”
“Don’t call me that,” he spits coolly and the bed shifts. Then you hear a drawer closing—his nightstand.
“Ugh, wh—”
“Open,” he instructs impatiently, jamming the edge of an unopened condom in your mouth.
You bite down onto the edge, and he pulls it from your teeth, the wrapper tearing easily. You weakly spit the other half in his direction which he ignores in favor of rolling the condom onto his length before throwing the empty package toward your face.
He did that on purpose and you’re not stupid. You two used condoms all the time when you first started hooking up, but as time passed you stopped. Neither of you were sleeping with other people because “it's simpler to just go to each other” leading you to fuck raw for several months. But as of now, you can’t bring yourself to care about the regression.
He runs his dick along your sex, and you shudder uncontrollably, body unable to remain still. And like clockwork, he stops you each time you try to push back.
He spreads your folds open, watching as you clench around nothing, before dipping his finger inside experimentally. Holding your hips in a bruising grip, he coats himself in your essence and your eyes close at the sound of his groans. Your own soft sounds slip past bitten lips as he repeats the motion hesitantly, like he's experiencing it anew.
“’Please, Sukuna.’ Say it,” he orders as he guides himself to your entrance, making sure to keep control your movements. “Beg like you used to.”
You let out a sharp gasp as he digs his nails into your hips in response to your silence. Your pussy thumps through your body harder than your heart. Your brain barely registers that he’s even speaking to you. Beg? How extra, you don’t remember ever begging.
“You’ll be fucking yourself,” he states and you swallow hard.
You try to come up with a way around his request but all you can think about is finally being able to sheathe yourself on Sukuna’s dick. It’s a pointless effort, because the moment he pulls away even slightly, you give in.
“…please.”
“What?”
“please,” you repeat, agitation growing. At this point he’s edging you with how turned on you are, face flushed, body hot, and eyes watering despite nothing having been done.
He lets out an unamused snort, and you stiffen.
“Please, Sukuna,” you cry, louder than intended. “Please!”
He hums before he pushes in, taking in the way your tense body goes lax then jolts when he bottoms out. His quiet groans at the way you cling around him mixes with your own from being filled to the brim. Sukuna runs his hand up your back and wraps it into your hair, tugging your head back sternly.
Your moans grow higher as he grounds his hips into you, one hand on your lower back, the other anchoring your head back towards him. He lets out a dry laugh.
“Wow. All it took was the threat of not getting any dick for you to act right.”
He pulls back and thrusts into you so hard your body tries to inch forward. “Pathetic.” He thrusts, yanking your head back harder. You can’t help but try your luck at fucking back onto him, his punch in thrusts frustrating you even more. But of course, he doesn’t allow it, his hand leaving your back to properly hold you still.
“You want it that bad?”
You nod, ignoring the way your neck aches because of it and Sukuna reinforces his hold of your hair. “Words.”
“Yes Sukuna,” you whimper, voice quivering just as much as your pussy. “Please. I want it…so bad…”
“Yeah?” He resumes his thrusting, this time building up a proper rhythm.
“Yeah?” Relentlessly, he drills into you, his momentum not dropping for a second.
Your moans turn into a garbled mix of slurred words that don’t even make sense. He doesn’t let go of your hair once, only ever jerking your head back the harder he pounds into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with the sounds of pleasure that leaves your mouths, his low groans and your wanton moans.
Your back arches impossibly deeper as Sukuna pushes down on your back, positioning your ass even higher than before. His name slipped from your lips like a mantra, your thoughts completely consumed by him. Nothing else could find its way into your mind no matter how close it was.
“You couldn’t wait for this, could you?” Sukuna grunts. “That’s why you’re always pissing me off, huh? Just itching for me to fuck you like the slut you are.”
Drool slides down from your mouth and onto your chin, as you answer him with murmured yeses, focusing on chasing your approaching orgasm. He winces when you clamp down on him as hard as possible, tears falling from your eyes as your abdomen tightens, your core pulsing frantically.
“I know.” He lets go of your hair and your head falls forward. “Because I’m the only one who can.”
Latching both of his hands back onto your waist, he picks up his pace, slamming into you with all his strength. His headboard knocks into the wall, and the bed shakes violently but he doesn’t stop, and you think you’d die if he did.
“Ku—Sukuna…” you hiccup. “I’m close.”
He doesn’t respond.
He just keeps going, his grip on your waist turning angry once again. Your breath hitches in your throat as you’re shoved further up the bed, only to be pulled back into Sukuna again and again.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he abuses your walls, stretching you to the max and knocking into you with purpose. You’re completely silent now, mouth hanging open as your head helplessly drags across the sheets.
Tremors wrecking through your body as you pull a high moan from the depths of your lungs, toes curling so hard they crack, and you clench around Sukuna in a vice like grip as you ride out your high. Your release washing over you in big waves, blurring your vision once again as your body goes limp.
Sukuna groans into the air, a faint “shit,” leaving his lips.
After shocks of your orgasm travel through your body as you attempt to melt into the sheets. But Sukuna does not allow any of that, continuing at the same pace, mercilessly, chasing his own climax. You cringe at the overstimulation, your core now ten times more sensitive. You try to move away, attempting to close your legs and lean forward, but his grip is iron.
“Don’t run now,” he grits out, ramming into you harder. “You wanted it, so take it.”
As sukuna uses you how he pleases, the now louder squelching of your pussy, joins the sounds already occupying the room. His groans turn to grunts before tipping into moans as he gets closer. He doesn’t say it, but you know he is. You can tell by the way his thrusts get sloppier and the way his hands move from your hips to your ass, spreading it apart so he can see better.
“Fuck,” he moans.
He reaches down to your shoulders to pull you up and your languid body goes easily. Now in an almost upright sitting position, Sukuna pounds into you from below as he bounces you on his lap.
He moves your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him, then slides his hands up your front, cupping and grabbing your breast in both his hands. Sukuna pulls you further back, placing his head onto your shoulder and you moan as he bites down on the skin of your neck. His hold on your chest tightens as he fucks into you sloppier, his guttural moans and the convulsing of his body against yours alerting you of his climax.
Sukuna doesn’t hold you for any longer than he has to, letting you go the moment he’s rode out his high, and watching as you flop back down onto the bed, bodies disconnecting. You’re too winded to speak, your limbs limp like noodles, so you just lie there. But he doesn’t. The weight on the bed lifts, followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Bathroom. Once, twice. Then the bedroom door.
You quietly scoff to yourself. He left. And you lay still on his bed, covered in your own juices, mouth wet from where you slobbered on yourself, face wet from overwhelmed tears, hair messy, and legs stuck together due to your undergarments being halfway down your legs. It’s a lousy way to end up, but unfortunately, that’s where you are.
But you can’t say you aren’t satisfied. Satisfied is all you can be because it can’t, won’t, and shouldn’t go beyond this with you two. It was just a brief moment of weakness that led you to relapse on each other, probably because you ended things so abruptly. Now that it’s truly out of your system, you can focus on moving forward and leaving it in the past.
Sukuna walks back into the room, casually grabbing his phone from the nightstand without sparing you a glance. He lets out a snicker at something—probably you—and you feel the fog in your mind start to lift. What could be so funny?
“What the fuck is funny?” you ask, scooting to the end of the bed and pulling your clothes back on. “I wanna laugh too.”