ਏਓ Content. — Boxer Sukuna X Childhood Friend Fem!reader. Modern Au, Fwb, Chocking Kink, Petnames

ਏਓ content. — boxer sukuna x childhood friend fem!reader. modern au, fwb, chocking kink, petnames (princess), no happy ending.

ਏਓ notes. idk i wanted to explore the idea of a jealous sukuna, unable to take control of a situation that gets out of his hands. reader may be read as a bitch,,, perhaps. but she is just as scared of her own feelings and ruin the friendship as he is ksjd felt i needed to clarify that.

Things had been weird lately. You assume that all unspoken situations end up like this at some point. At least, that's what you presume, because you've never found yourself in a position like this before. You haven't wanted to think about it too much, or at least not as deeply as the situation probably requires. You and Sukuna have been friends for several years now, and when you started this arrangement between the two of you, you made it very clear that there were no emotional ties, nothing that could bind you together enough to later separate you.

You were nothing more than friends hooking up, a deal implied from the very first time, right here in your room. The same place where it has happened over and over again. The room that holds your secrets, your shared laughter, tears and some heated arguments. It all started with a kiss that led to another, like the flutter of a butterfly unleashing a storm. The hunger of desire pushed you to sit on his lap, you were hungry and he knew how to feed you. So it has always been: you call and he comes.

Lately, however, the tension is different. Not the kind of tension you like, the kind where a simple glance can set your skin on fire, the kind of electricity that runs through even the boxing ring and makes you clench your thighs because you know what's coming next. What surrounds you now is an uncomfortable veil, laden with unspoken words that you both avoid, knowing that a conversation about it would only make things worse.

There's only one thing you're sure of: you don't want to overthink it.

Sukuna lets out a grunt of pain under the alcohol-soaked absorbent cotton. Out of the corner of your eye you notice how his hands, wrapped in white bandages, tighten and cling tightly to your thighs.

“Hold still,” you reproach him in a soft but firm tone as you lean over to reach for a band-aid on the bedside table.

Night has fallen, and you are both enveloped in the noisy calm of the city where the murmurs of other apartments and the distant bustle of the city seep through the walls. The atmosphere feels intimate, as if the outside world is just an irrelevant murmur compared to what is going on between you.

“ He really fucked you up, hm?” you murmur with a hint of concern in your voice. He growls low, resembling a dog that's been scolded, his brow furrowed as his red eyes bore into the wide cotton t-shirt you're wearing, especially the 'V' shape that exposes your collarbones and that little necklace hanging from your neck. You seem to notice, but decide to ignore how his gaze slides with restrained desire. “You never let yourself get hurt like that,” you add with a tone that mixes reproach and concern, pressing the alcohol-soaked cotton swab against his injured eyebrow.

“I was distracted,” he replies indifferently.

You gently push his shoulders to get a better look at him, noticing how he avoids your eyes, knowing you can read him all too easily. A black eye, a split eyebrow with a few fresh stitches, and a swollen lip; signs of a fight where he clearly wasn't in his best shape. “You weren't there,” he mutters, almost as if the confession escapes his lips.

So that's what this is about.

“I was busy with work,” you reply, trying to make it sound casual.

He emits a low sound, a deep purr that vibrates against your fingers as you continue to clean his wound. There's something in his tone that reveals a need he doesn't want to admit.

“I called, you weren't there.”

You sigh in exasperation.

“You're my watchdog now?” you tease, though behind the question lies a tension neither of you is willing to fully face.

“Are you fucking him?” the rawness of his question doesn't take you by surprise as it should. You knew this was going to blow up eventually, but still, the impact of his words causes an uncomfortable knot to form in your chest. You wonder if it was the shirt, visibly larger than you usually wear, that made him suspicious or if it was your growing coldness over the past few weeks. “You reek of him. Is that why you didn't come to see me, because you were fucking him?”

“Ryomen…” Your voice sounds like a gentle, almost motherly reproach, as if you're trying to stop a child about to get into trouble. Yet he receives it exactly that way: with a mixture of frustration and indignation, as if it's unfair of you to speak to him that way when all he wants is the truth.

“The fucking guy from your job,” he spits, his gaze piercing you with a mixture of anger and hurt that he rarely lets on. His hands are tense, knuckles white on your thighs.

The words hang in the air, heavy and toxic, mingling with the bitterness of everything unsaid between you. But deep down, you both know this goes far beyond simple jealousy.

Your tongue moistens your upper lip as you try to buy time, looking for the perfect excuse to deflect the conversation. But this time, there's no escape possible. You're trapped in his lap, his hands firmly gripping your ass, his face so close you can almost feel the heat of his skin.

“It just… happened. We have no strings attached, remember? It was what we agreed to. I thought we were both having fun.”

Sukuna lets out a bitter, dry laugh, laden with an irony that cuts through the air between you like a blade. His fingers sink harder into your flesh, making you aware of the tension coursing through his body.

“Do you really think I'm having fun right now?” he murmurs, his gravelly voice with an edge that cuts through you. The way his scarlet eyes pierce into you it's as if he's searching for something beyond your words, something even you don't know how to express. There's a restrained fury in his gaze, but also a hint of pain that you didn't expect to see. That glint that suggests that, perhaps, all this has gone further than either of you would dare to admit.

Your fingers slowly glide across the scarred skin of his shoulders, following the path of his tattoos, noting how each small movement tenses his musculature. You run down his naked torso, feel the warmth of his chest under your palms, then wrap your arms around his neck. You lean in close enough for your words to brush his lips in a whisper.

“Are you jealous, is that it? It's hard for me to tell when your boner is pushing against my ass,” you whisper to him with a mixture of mockery and desire.

Sukuna hates it when you use that tone, one that reminds him that, despite everything, he's always the one who ends up giving in to you. It's as if you have an invisible leash around his neck, and every time you pull on it, he comes without resistance. You lean a little closer, making sure his cock rubs directly against your pussy, barely covered by the thin set of panties you're wearing. The woody scent of the other man on your body confounds his senses, mixing rage, lust and something he doesn't want to name.

You hide in his neck, leaving a trail of kisses just behind his ear, that spot that always makes him lose control. Sukuna squeezes your ass cheeks tighter, pulling you even more into him, letting you feel every inch of his hardness.

“You have to talk to me,” you murmur against his skin, your teeth catching his lobe in a playful bite that makes his skin bristle. “I can't read what you're thinking.”

You know you're driving him crazy, that you're playing with fire, but you enjoy watching the cracks in his facade of hardness begin to appear and wonder how hard you can push before he snaps.

“Is this what you think I am to you, a dog you can call whenever you feel like fucking?” Sukuna spits out the words, his voice laden with a resentment he makes no attempt to hide. Every fiber of his body is still vibrating with the adrenaline of the fight just ended, and even though the physical battle is over, he still feels cornered, as if he's taking blow after blow.

Instead of responding with words, he lets his body do it for him. His hands scrape your skin, descending to your neck, squeezing gently to get your full attention. The pressure isn't enough to hurt you, but enough to make you focus on the burning that ignites in your clit, yearning to be rubbed and abused by those same hands that know exactly how to bring you to the edge.

“Is that what you want me to be?” he murmurs in a dangerous tone. “To let you use me over and over again? To make you cum on this thick cock until you're sobbing, crawling under me because it's too much?”

Your only response is a moan that escapes uncontrollably. You thrust your hips against him, seeking more friction, and he, despite his anger, begins to thrust from below, losing control over his own desire. This is what you needed, what you had forgotten in weeks without touching. Your nipples, hard and sensitive, are marked through the soft fabric of your t-shirt, begging for his mouth, for his teeth. There is always something about the way Sukuna holds you after he has humiliated you to the point of making you cum on his cock, an intimacy, that you find in no one else. It's that closeness that envelops you when he embraces you while you're still trembling after you've reached your climax.

“Answer me,” he growls, his fingers squeezing a little tighter, his voice demanding a confession.

“Yes… I need you to make me cum,” you murmur, unable to help the tremor in your voice.

Sukuna laughs, but it's not a kind sound. Your eyes widen in surprise when he lets go of your throat. The next breath you take is painful, immediately missing the pressure of his hand again.

Suddenly, he stands up, forcing you to be quick not to slip off his lap. Before you can process what's happening, he pulls on his blood-stained shirt, his movements calculated, as you stare at him blankly. “Jerk off and go to bed, princess,” he says coolly, adjusting his clothes without looking at you. “If you really wanna talk, come see me tomorrow after the fight. I'm leaving.”

With nothing more to say, Sukuna turns away, leaving the unresolved tension in the air and you with the feeling that, this time, the rules of your arrangement have changed forever.