After my lil break to write fem!Gojou and corpse!Gojou, I've resumed poking at the demon/hunter sukuita+goyuu fic, which is 40k plus and still all sukuita. Had to reread the whole thing to get a feel for it again, but I'd say I'm back on track: Sukuna continues to be a menace, and Yuuji continues to suffer sexily.
Fingers slide into his hair, fisting tight.
Yuuji hisses as his head’s yanked back, baring his throat and forcing him to look up at the sneering bastard.
“Stubborn,” Sukuna says, amusement dark in his voice. His other hand also descends, and Yuuji bares his teeth, not that it stops the touch that digs into his cheek, a too-sharp nail denting the skin—and tearing it, the sting hotter and deeper than a knife’s kiss. A fiery line is drawn down Yuuji’s face, from cheek to jaw, and when Sukuna draws his hand back, there’s blood on his fingertip.
Yuuji’s unsurprised when that finger vanishes between plump lips, but the worst part is that the heat twisting his guts isn’t pure disgust.
“Asshole,” he grits out anyway, the angle of his throat making him pay for every word.
Sukuna hums around his finger, superbly unconcerned. It pops out without a sound, glistening wetly in the candlelight.
“As expected,” Sukuna declares softly, “the blood shows true.”
Yuuji’s uncomfortably aware of the stinging cut on his cheek, dripping slow warmth down his face and throat. “Let me go.”
Sukuna does just that, so sudden that Yuuji damn near faceplants on the floor. It’s Sukuna’s leg he catches himself on, suffocating for a moment in the dark cloth spilling down the altar, and his arms are too slow to obey the command to get the fuck away.
He fights free of the bastard and his goddamned clothes to find himself panting under an infuriatingly familiar smirk.
Yuuji’s mind stutters, again. “Huh?”
Sukuna uncrosses his leg, the boot thudding into Yuuji’s shoulder and forcing him up onto his knees, and he almost topples over, his entire body weak from the strange, writhing pain that took over his limbs while hollowing out his bones, and it’s instinct to seek balance, except he finds it in Sukuna’s fucking leg again, smooth cloth and thick muscle filling up his grip.
The boot slides down to his chest, bruising the path.
Yuuji’s hand moves with it.
“Go on,” Sukuna murmurs, in the same quiet, sure tone he had when he told Yuuji to crawl. “Take it off.”
“Use your hands,” he says as if Yuuji didn’t even speak, “before I make you use your mouth.”
