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Yuuji’s fingers danced across the controller, eyes glued to the screen as another kill popped up in the feed.
“Clean double off the flank,” he said into the mic, voice buzzing with focus. “Y’all catch that slide cancel? Smooth as hell.”
The headset crackled with the usual mix: Megumi’s flat “You’re yelling again,” Nobara’s sharp “Quiet, I’m clutching,” and some random screaming about a sniper. Typical Friday night noise.
What wasn’t typical was the searing, liquid heat wrapped tight around his cock.
Sukuna straddled him backward, thick thighs spread wide over Yuuji’s open legs, spine pressed flush to Yuuji’s chest like he wanted their skeletons to fuse. Every slow inhale made the ring of muscle gripping Yuuji pulse and flutter.
Yuuji had not moved his hips in twenty-eight minutes now.
He had sworn he wouldn’t.
Forty minutes earlier, while Yuuji was still launching the game, Sukuna had leaned in close and laid down the law in that low, dangerous purr:
“You queue. You play. You don’t fucking thrust. You don’t grind. You sit there like a good boy and let me warm that fat cock until I decide I’ve had enough. If you come inside me before I say, I’m edging you for three days straight. Understand, brat?”
Yuuji had nodded so eagerly his teeth knocked together.
So here they sat.
Sukuna’s arms draped lazily over Yuuji’s shoulders, long fingers twisted in pink hair, tugging just enough to keep Yuuji aware of who really held the reins even while split open and stuffed full. His cunt was stretched to its limit: outer lips swollen and glossy, clinging wetly to every thick vein and ridge like they refused to let go. A slow trickle of slick had already escaped, coating Yuuji’s balls and soaking dark patches into the bunched fabric of his sweats.
Every time Yuuji breathed too deeply or shifted to hit a different key, Sukuna’s walls squeezed in warning.
Right now Yuuji was trying very hard not to breathe at all.
“Yuuji, left flank, left!” Nobara barked.
“Copy, smoke out, pushing—”
He tilted the stick, leaned forward half an inch to line up the crosshair, and Sukuna sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
The tiny movement dragged Yuuji’s cock just enough inside the slick heat to rip a rough, involuntary sound from Sukuna’s throat. Nails bit into Yuuji’s scalp.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Yuuji froze mid-motion, pulse hammering in his ears.
“Sorry,” he whispered, so quiet it barely cut through the gunfire.
Sukuna’s chuckle rolled out dark and rich. “You liked it.”
He rolled his hips once: slow, deliberate, letting Yuuji feel the drag of every inner ridge as he sank back to the base. Yuuji’s vision blurred. His thumb slipped. The shot went wide.
“Yuuji, seriously?” Megumi muttered.
“Sorry, sorry, hand slipped—”
Sukuna’s tongue traced the curve of Yuuji’s ear. “Hand slipped,” he echoed in mocking sweetness. “Right.”
Yuuji’s cock jerked hard inside him. He felt the answering flutter of Sukuna’s cunt, greedy and rhythmic, like it was trying to pull the orgasm out of him even though the rules forbade movement.
He locked his jaw until it hurt.
“Focus, brat,” Sukuna murmured, voice already fraying at the edges. “You’re supposed to be carrying.”
“I’m trying,” Yuuji ground out.
“Are you?” Sukuna clenched on purpose this time: slow, pulsing squeezes that milked him from root to tip. “Doesn’t feel like focus. Feels like you’re two seconds from painting my insides white just from sitting there.”
Yuuji’s hips twitched before he could stop them: a bare fraction of an inch.
Sukuna snarled, fisted pink hair tighter, and yanked Yuuji’s head back so their eyes met.
“Brat.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Shut up.” Sukuna rocked forward and back twice: shallow, torturous little rides that filled the room with wet, obscene sounds. “You want to fuck me so bad, don’t you?”
Yuuji’s throat worked. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want to fuck you so bad,” Yuuji rasped. “Want to pound this pussy until you’re crying, until you can’t even curse anymore, just screaming my name.”
Sukuna’s cunt clamped down hard.
Yuuji choked.
On screen his character ate a clean headshot. The kill-cam replayed in cruel slow motion while Nobara screeched.
Sukuna laughed, low and pleased. “Died because you were daydreaming about breeding me. Pathetic.”
Yuuji whimpered.
Sukuna licked a slow path up the side of his neck. “You’re leaking inside me already. I can feel it every time I squeeze. So desperate to fill me even when you’re not allowed to move.”
“Sukuna-”
“Quiet.” Another deliberate roll. “You don’t get to beg yet.”
Yuuji’s controller shook in his grip. He was almost certain he had been kicked from the round. Didn’t matter. Nothing existed except the obscene stretch, the dripping heat, the way Sukuna’s thighs trembled every time he lifted and let gravity pull him back down.
Sukuna’s voice dropped to a whisper meant only for Yuuji’s ears.
“You want to come?”
Yuuji nodded like his life depended on it.
“Say please.”
“Please.”
“Louder.”
“Please, Sukuna, please let me come inside you.”
Sukuna hummed, satisfied. “Good boy.”
Then he braced one hand on Yuuji’s knee, the other still tangled in pink hair, and started riding in earnest: slow at first, savoring every thick inch, then faster, harder, wet slaps drowning out the game.
Yuuji’s controller hit the floor with a clatter.
Headset torn off.
Both hands clamped onto Sukuna’s hips: bruising grip, holding him in place so Yuuji could finally slam up into that greedy, soaking cunt.
Sukuna moaned loud and shameless, head falling back onto Yuuji’s shoulder.
“That’s it,” he hissed. “Fuck me like you mean it. Give it to me.”
Yuuji broke.
He drove up hard enough to jolt Sukuna’s whole body, cock battering that perfect spot over and over. Relentless. The chair groaned under them.
Sukuna’s cunt gushed; slick poured down Yuuji’s thighs and puddled on the seat.
“Yuuji, fuck, right there, right fucking there.”
Yuuji hooked one arm around Sukuna’s waist, slid the other hand between his legs, found that swollen clit and rubbed fast, tight circles exactly the way he knew would ruin him.
Sukuna locked up.
A raw, broken sound ripped out of him, half growl, half sob, and then he was coming hard: walls spasming wildly, milking Yuuji like they wanted to drain him dry.
Yuuji lasted four more brutal thrusts.
Then he buried himself deep, hips stuttering, cock pulsing as he came: thick, hot spurts that made Sukuna whimper and grind back, greedy for every drop.
They stayed locked together, chests heaving, bodies trembling.
Sukuna’s head lolled against Yuuji’s shoulder. His voice came out wrecked. “You’re cleaning this chair.”
Yuuji laughed, breathless. “Worth it.”
Sukuna turned just enough to bite Yuuji’s jaw, sharp enough to sting.
“Don’t get cocky, brat. Next time your hands will be tied.”
Yuuji grinned into damp skin.
“Promise?”
Sukuna’s laugh was dark and almost fond.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Yuuji did.
(And on the desk, the headset was still live. Megumi and Nobara were shouting some unholy combination of “Yuuji what the fuck” and “are you serious right now” into dead air.)