"両面 宿儺 ✶ SUKUNA RYOMEN," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ she's literally a princess and he's the devil. what the fuck. ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა artist credits: @/f_tality0 on insta reblog / like 2 support ⃘໋ׅ♡ 𝑤.𝑐: 1.1k ⁀ ˳ ⟡
♡⏝ ⸝⸝ 𝓦ARNINGS ˖ ❝ sfw fluff crack she/her pronouns satoru, nobara, itadori & megumi cameo reader is sweet and popular sweet/innocent!reader bully!sukuna 2006 timeline reader & sukuna are like 17 they're in high school only tooth rotting fluff no curses au 2006 Japan references sukuna & gojo besties 2nd person perspective ❞
── #⃝ MINA'S NOTES ( 💬 ) gojo ver. masterlist <3
SUKUNA RYOMEN was the devils incarnate. No, like literally that's what people whispered and believed.
"I saw horns on his head, and he was talking about killing a duck," 4 year old Nobara whispered and told 4 year old Megumi and Itadori. Nodding and pursing her lips as she had learnt from Gojo when he was gossiping with Geto and Shoko, mimicking his behaviour. Itadori widened his eyes before gasping and placing his hands on his cheeks, "HE WHAT? WHAT THE HECK!?," he looked distraught before huffing and pouting, as if the sun was exploding. He couldn’t believe his uncle, who was only around 13 years older than him, was so evil.
"She obviously didn't see that, idiot," Megumi looked at him in annoyance, curling his upper lip. "And stop copying how my babysitter acts!" he scoffed before tackling Yuuji.
The rumours didn't start and end with 4 year olds though, almost everyone in Jujutsu high believed that Sukuna was to be feared and that he would curse you if you stared too long. Almost everyone anyways, since there were two big exceptions. One being the most popular boy in school, the boy who was famous on Mixi and owned a Blackberry before anyone else in Japan did.
Satoru Gojo.
"Don't look," a girl whispered to her friend, holding her hand tightly and staring ahead into her dark locker, while heavy footsteps passed behind them.
She was pursing her lips, about to turn back to check before Gojo came up behind them both, resting his arms over their shoulders and smiling happily. "Who're we hiding from?" He beamed.
Her frozen expression didn't give much away, while her friend grew flustered and quickly looked over her other shoulder, locking eyes onto the only figure who wasn't in uniform. His pink hair standing out, hands shoved in his pockets, lolling his head back with a big sigh.
"Satoru, stop following me," he glared, turning back only to look at the white haired menace.
“But whyyyyy? You’re my best friend!” He whined, pouting and playing along, quickly tagging along behind him and chatting to him non-stop about the new game he was playing online and how they should go to an internet café again soon.
Other students walking by quickly changed their course of direction, looked away, or started to empty out their pockets in case Sukuna Ryomen decided that they were the ones who were going to pay for his next expense. Bullying? Sukuna's minions made haibara fear for his life until he transferred to a different school, which in turn caused Nanami to resent him.
All was changed when one of the students smelled the roses in the air, quickly smiling and looking towards the school entrance.
"It's Y/N!" One of the girls happily pointed, while another ran up to give you a hug. "Y/N-channnn! How was your weekend?"
Unlike Sukuna, your reputation was written in a fancy cursive and written in a sparkly pink gel pen. You were a breath of fresh air to many students there, not a single student had a negative energy towards you. Rumours about you sounded like they were out of a fairytale, which is why you were listed as "most likely to be a princess" in the yearbook in your last year of secondary school.
"She gave me her ice cream when she heard about my failed test," a second year boy sighed dreamily, before looking towards the entrance for a glimpse of you. "Is she singing?" His friend questioned, raising a confused eyebrow. You lived up to your name, skipping towards the entrance and humming, while squirrels, birds, raccoons, stray cats and some deers followed behind. A hummingbird even resting on your shoulder and tweeting along.
"Alright now, make sure you all get along and don't get hit by cars, okay?" You smiled and brushed off the bird, blowing a kiss in the direction that the animals scurried off before entering the school gates.
"Do you think I have a chance with her? I think she smiled at me like… more than usual yesterday," a first year boy named Haruto scratched the back of his neck. Flushing from his cheeks, and making quick glances towards your approaching figure. His friends looked unconvinced, all sharing the same look and one of them even holding onto his backpack so that he didn't do anything rash.
"She smiles at everyone, plus I heard she has a boyfriend," one of them shrugged, sighing and watching your figure. It was like all of them were communicating telepathically, trying to discern if you had a boyfriend from the way you walked.
Haruto was about to approach, "I don't think she has—" before freezing and clenching his jaw tightly when someone came up behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder tensely. His friends glancing over, only to take one look and be on their way, knowing there was nothing they could do.
"I'm pretty sure she has one." Sukuna mumbled, looking down at the younger boy with sharp eyes.
Haruto gulped, before nodding and looking up at the older boy shakily. "O-oh… sorry, I didn't know.." he mumbled, the air from his throat suddenly feeling like nails, increasingly hard to breathe in and out without sounding like a nervous wreck. "I'll g-go apologise to Gojo, sorry—"
"Gojo's not her boyfriend." Sukuna grumbled, tightening his grip on Haruto's shoulder, making the boy wince out. "I'm her boyfriend," he tsked down at him, narrowing his eyes, almost pouting before shoving the boy away and walking towards you.
People seeing what was happening were already pitying you and wishing that you'd stay safe.
Many people knew that you were dating Sukuna Ryomen, just as many people did not know. The reaction was always the same, whether they knew or not, whenever sukuna approached you. People looking at him in disdain, jealousy, anger, or even looking at you with pity.
"Poor girl, he's probably been manipulating her," whispers floated amongst the student body, people shaking their heads, teachers gossiping in their lounges. "She's too sweet for him, he doesn't deserve her!"
You knew the truth and Sukuna knew the truth.
"Hii!" You happily squealed, rushing up to him and hugging him. His body didn't stiffen or hesitate, as he'd gently wrap on arm around and pat your back, glancing back subtly so that no one saw him lose his edge. "…you're going to make me look like a softie," he whispered, flustered from seeing you, looking comically shy, trying to snarl down at you.
You blinked up at him curiously, tilting your head and playing dumb. "What edge? You're the cutest, most softest, sweetest and smartest guy I know!" You pinched his cheek, before humming and skipping past him, towards the steps of the entrance of the main building.
He paused, before pouting and quickly following after you.
all works in this series describe moments from different stages of your relationship with Sukuna. while they can generally be read in any order, the gamer mini-series works best when read sequentially.
content: modern au, sukuna x f!reader, established relationship, gamer!sukuna, soft!sukuna, fluff, slice-of-life, crack, slow moments, married chaos, married stupidity, the whole friend group is sometimes there too
main masterlist ◦ ao3
𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗
⪼ skincare
Sukuna lets you drag him into your skincare routine ◦ fluff
⪼ your eating habits
fluff
⪼ you feel like picking a fight
chaos, relationship stupidity, petty argument, comfort
𝗛𝗨𝗦𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗗
⪼ 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿!𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶-𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀
⪼ part 1 ◦ Sukuna wants you in his space ◦ fluff
⪼ part 2 ◦ Sukuna teaches you things ◦ fluff
⪼ part 3 ◦ Sukuna shuts things down before you have to ask ◦ fluff
⪼ part 4 ◦ Sukuna tries something new just to share it with you ◦ fluff
⪼ part 5 ◦ Sukuna makes even chaos feel manageable ◦ fluff
⪼ 𝗱𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸!𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶-𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀
⪼ he fixates on a very important question for his wife
crack, fluff
⪼ he decides to remind his wife exactly who she married
crack, fluff
⪼ he becomes convinced something is wrong with his tattoos
crack
⪼ he makes it very clear he's taken
crack, fluff
⪼ 𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶-𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀
⪼ when he's reading a book ◦ fluff
⪼ when he's making coffee in a heatwave ◦ fluff
⪼ more coming soon...
⪼ his favourite sound ◦ the alternative ending
muscles, flexing and giggles ◦ fluff
⪼ his favourite animal is his wife when she's drunk
crack, fluff
⪼ how one huge piece of furniture mysteriously appeared in your apartment
read gamer!Sukuna part 1 first ◦ crack, fluff
⪼ hear me out cake
crack, fluff
⪼ pretending to give Sukuna the silent treatment
crack, fluff
⪼ valentine's day
fluff, crack
⪼ Sukuna gets hit on while you're busy befriending a stray cat
fluff
⪼ you call Sukuna mid-ranked and it turns out he has softer setting just for you
gamer!Sukuna ft Gojo ◦ fluff, crack
⪼ you decide to fuck around and find out with Sukuna
smut
⪼ you want a cat, and Sukuna absolutely does not
fluff
⪼ you vs. self-checkout vs. Sukuna’s patience
crack, fluff
⪼ Sukuna’s mechanic intuition
fluff
⪼ bad day protocol
chaos, married stupidity, petty argument
⪼ you know Sukuna's in love when he can't hold back the tremble in his voice
fluff
⪼ tracing Sukuna's tattoos while he plays
gamer!Sukuna ◦ fluff
⪼ waking up in the middle of the night to find Sukuna still gaming
gamer!Sukuna ◦ fluff
⪼ calling Sukuna a good boy
fluff
⪼ dragging Sukuna into the photo booth
fluff
⪼ it's your anniversary and Sukuna doesn't really... like the way you're dressed?
not fluff, more like married stupidity
⪼ putting petrol in Sukuna's diesel jeep
crack
⪼ Sukuna doesn't handle waking up alone in the middle of the night very well
fluff
⪼ Kunaaaa, why aren't you holding my hand?
fluff
Sukuna doesn't handle waking up in an empty bed in the middle of the night very well
Blinking awake into the dim blue-gray haze that fills the bedroom, Sukuna’s mind lingers in a heavy, half-dreaming state, and the first thing he notices is the empty stretch of mattress at his side. Fingers drift across the sheets, searching out of habit, only to find nothing but cold where warmth should be.
For a moment, he just lies there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the fog of sleep that refuses to let go. Only when the red glow of the alarm clock finally catches his eye does he move, brow creasing as the numbers come into focus. 4:03.
It’s the weekend. Both of you had gone to bed together hours ago, so there’s absolutely no reason for you to be anywhere else.
Before the thought can even finish forming, his body jolts upright as adrenaline floods his veins, snapping him awake faster than his mind can catch up. The sharp thud of his heart feels almost ridiculous in the silence, but the apartment is so quiet that it only makes every instinct louder.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he pushes himself up, rakes a hand through his hair, and steps into the hallway, every muscle tense, ears straining for the faintest sound.
Nothing.
Moving down the hallway without hesitation, he checks the bathroom, even though the darkness behind the door already tells him you aren’t there.
The living room is empty, the couch looks exactly the same as earlier that night, with your blanket still tossed carelessly over the armrest where you left it. Maybe you slipped out onto the balcony, but the curtains hang motionless and the glass door is sealed tight. The pressure in his chest ratchets up another notch, and he moves through the flat faster now.
The last remnants of sleep are completely gone when each room confirms the same thing over and over again: you aren’t there. Each feeds the growing, irrational fear that something has happened while he slept, and by the time he reaches the kitchen, his breathing is shallow, his jaw clenches, and his hands ball into tight fists at his sides.
And then he stops.
The kitchen is bathed in dim light, just the gentle glow from the stove clock and a faint spill of streetlight through the window, enough to outline you standing barefoot by the counter. One hand holds a glass of water, the other strokes absently over Mikan’s back as the cat perches on a high chair, leaning into your touch and purring like nothing in the world could ever be wrong.
You look half-asleep yourself, hair a little messy, the hem of his shirt brushing your thighs, eyes soft and unfocused the way they get when you wake just enough to wander to the bathroom before crawling back to bed.
For a long moment, Sukuna stands frozen in the doorway, breath caught somewhere between relief and anger, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. The sight of you, safe, slams into the fear he’s been carrying, heavy and real as anything.
Your head lifts when you notice him.
“What the hell are you doing?” The words come out sharper than he means, still edged with the panic that hasn’t left his body yet.
Confusion flickers across your face at his tone, and you blink at him, like you’ve only just remembered there’s a world beyond the counter and the purring cat pressed against your palm.
“Drinking water,” you answer quietly, your voice rough with sleep, lifting the glass slightly in explanation, like the answer should be obvious. Then, softer, as the reason for him standing there at four in the morning, staring at you like that, finally clicks, you add, “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Something in his chest finally gives, and the tension snaps all at once. Muttering a curse that barely makes it past his teeth, he walks over and catches your arm before you can get another word out, tugging you into him so abruptly that the water in your glass nearly spills over the rim. Only then does he let out a shaky breath he’s been holding since the moment he woke up.
His voice rumbles low and rough, words muffled by your hair as he pulls you tight against his chest. “You scared the shit outta me.”
His grip tightens for a heartbeat before easing. One hand slides up, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck, while the other stays splayed warm and steady across your lower back. Caught off guard by the sudden intensity, you let your free hand find its way to his side, settling there gently.
“I’m sorry.” It slips out before you can stop it, even though you know you haven’t done anything wrong. Tilting your head back to meet his eyes, you find his stare heavy with something that makes it clear that he doesn’t want you apologizing for this, not ever. Nuzzling your cheek into his chest, you feel the frantic thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I was only gone a minute,” you add softly, a little sheepish.
Sukuna huffs softly, and the short, weary sound carries more relief than frustration, but his arms stay locked around you, unyielding, as if letting go might let the fear slip back in.
“I know,” he mutters eventually, almost to himself, the edge of panic fading away. “I know that.”
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The kitchen is quiet except for the slow, steady thud of Sukuna’s heartbeat finally calming beneath your cheek, and the impatient purring of Mikan weaving around your ankles, as if he’s been personally wronged by all this drama.
Then, he slips the glass from your hand and sets it on the counter, his other arm settling around your shoulders, steering you gently toward the bedroom, unwilling to let even an inch of distance creep in.
“Come on,” he murmurs, and you don’t argue.
Sleep tugs at you again, heavy and insistent, and as you sink back onto the mattress, your body leans instinctively toward his warmth. Sukuna wraps himself around you, pressing his chest firmly against your back and banding one arm tight across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. The other slips beneath your pillow, fingers searching until they find yours and tangle together.
Now that you’re back exactly where you should be, Sukuna lets out a slow, quiet exhale as the last traces of restless adrenaline finally drain from his chest.
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 9.8k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, torture, abuse, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion
a/n: this chapter marks the start of the final act where things begin to unravel hehe
Your mother’s tone was strained as she peered across the table at your boyfriend. It was clear that she was at least trying her best to be polite, while your father could barely bring himself to look at the man.
It had been several weeks since the incident at Satoru’s cabin, and in that time the nature of your relationship with Sukuna had changed, and subsequently so had your relationship with your parents.
When you’d first arrived back in town after escaping Mahito’s clutches, you’d gone straight to your parents to tell them what had happened and to ask for them to contact the Higurumas to help you through the legal process. If you’d been more mentally stable at the time perhaps you would’ve gone to them alone, playing along with your father’s request to not bring Sukuna to the house.
But you’d been in no fit state to do anything alone, so Sukuna had tagged along that evening to support you, revealing himself to your mother for the first time as your boyfriend.
To say that first meeting had been rocky was something of an understatement.
Her judgement of the man was evident and only further heightened by your father’s obvious disapproval. If you hadn’t been in such a state of distress you were certain that both of them would’ve outright voiced how disappointed they were in you. Perhaps they would’ve even asked Sukuna to leave.
But neither of them spoke out actively against him that day - not when he was the only thing you seemed to be clinging to, desperate not to be parted from him for a second.
They could understand that he was your saviour - that you needed him, and even begrudgingly accepted it when you all but moved into his apartment in the weeks that followed, spending every night with him in the one place you felt safe and comfortable. It wasn’t like they were happy about it - you knew that, but they weren’t about to stand in the way of their traumatised daughter and her wants.
Sukuna was the one thing keeping you going, and your parents knew that.
Even if he was far from ideal in their minds.
Your mother, no matter her opinion on a person, had always been the type to try to keep things civil and polite, which was how you and Sukuna had ended up invited for dinner at your childhood home, in which your mother was trying her best to extend an olive branch and keep an open mind about your boyfriend.
It had already been an awkward affair, and you were desperate to leave, but Sukuna seemed unfettered, smiling politely at your mother’s largely condescending questions.
“No, I didn’t go to college. My family wasn't very well off and even with scholarships it would’ve been hard for me. I might go back to school in a few years once I have some savings, but it was always a better option for me to earn.” His arm came to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in an act that no doubt had your father seething. “I’m set on finding a good career though. I want to be able to provide.”
Your mother gave him a polite smile before diverting her attention back down to her plate, while your father rolled his eyes. It was clear that neither of them particularly liked the idea of him thinking long term about your relationship. In the few times she’d caught you alone since finding out about Sukuna, your mother had not so subtly reminded you that Hiromi was still single and willing to date, pairing it with the suggestion that a change of scenery might be good for you.
So far you’d politely turned her down, but the whole thing was starting to grate on your nerves. Sukuna was who you’d chosen - he’d protected you through the worst of times and was continuing to care for you now, even when you were depressed and traumatised. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted - it was only him.
It had always been him and always would be.
“Do you think you’ll be coming back to work soon, sweetheart?” Your dad asked, shifting his attention to you.
Since the incident you’d found it difficult to even get out of bed most days, your mind laden with thoughts of Mahito and what might’ve happened if Sukuna hadn’t arrived. And when you weren’t thinking about that, you were picturing Shoko’s lifeless body laid out on the floor. The idea of holding it together for a whole day of work seemed impossible.
Your father had been understanding enough to allow Sukuna to take a couple of weeks off after everything first went down, aware that he didn’t want you left alone in such a distraught state, but Sukuna had been back on site for weeks now, while you still moped around at home. Your phone and Sukuna’s gun were never far from your grip whenever you were alone, constantly on edge that you’d hear the rattling of a window or the slow unlatching of the door, leading you to another terrible fate.
“I- I don’t know.”
You’d been waiting to return back to your normal self, to bounce back to the way you were before. But you felt like a vital part of you had been stolen, never to be returned. It was so similar to how you’d felt after Ryu’s death, and yet so different too. With Ryu, it had been like getting carried away by a stream, constantly trying to get your head above rushing water to take a breath.
This felt more still - like you were drifting steadily to the bottom of a calm lake without the capability to kick back up to the surface. There was a numbness to the pain that settled within you through each passing day, like pieces of your heart were slowly being peeled away and cast aside. The piece that Sukuna held in his hands felt like the only one that was safe, protected by the one person who brought you comfort.
“It's fine for me to look after her.” Sukuna cut in before your dad could respond. “She doesn’t need to work.”
The man pressed his lips into a thin line, collecting himself before making any rash response to Sukuna’s words. He’d hardly eaten any of his meal, clearly discomforted by the whole situation of having a dinner party with someone he didn’t approve of, someone who he knew had laid hands all over his daughter.
“She should work. She’s more qualified than you are, it would be silly to let years of education go to waste.”
“I don’t doubt her skill.” Sukuna bit back, “I simply care for her wellbeing. When she feels better she can decide what she wants to do, I’ll support her whether it brings us millions of dollars or makes us nothing.”
“That’s admirable, don’t you think, honey?” Your mother tried her best to disarm the tension, casting a glance at your father who seemed utterly unconvinced.
You kept quiet, uninterested in pushing your way into the conversation. Dinner hadn’t seemed like the best idea, even if you could see your mother’s intent. Your father would never accept Sukuna no matter how good a person he was to you - his low social standing already sealed that deal, making this whole meeting a waste of everyone’s time.
It was better if you simply kept the two halves of your life apart. There was no point in causing strife or trying to convince your dad of anything when he was already deadset in his beliefs. He wanted you to marry someone wealthy like Hiromi, someone who could take care of you financially without working on a construction site.
Someone with soft, uncalloused hands.
Someone who would never think to cover themselves in tattoos.
Sukuna would never be that, so he’d never be accepted. If anything, his heroic act of saving you from Mahito had only further concreted him as someone unpleasant in your father’s eyes - the type of man who was strong and scrappy enough to kill another.
That his actions were in defence of you didn’t seem to matter.
And for that reason you were done trying to argue.
You’d only agreed to the dinner invitation because Sukuna had urged you to, emphasising the importance in him building a relationship with your family if you were going to be together. But ultimately, he was on his own on that front, because you could see no way in which dinner would end with anything but more animosity between both parties.
So you’d let them talk things out, excusing yourself to the bathroom to free yourself of conversation you had no interest in hearing.
Well, that and because you’d been beset with the sudden urge to vomit.
For the last few days your stomach had been odd. You’d been waking up each morning feeling nauseous, leaving you sprinting to the toilet and throwing up until your stomach was emptied of its bile. Throughout the day the dizziness would decrease, but you found yourself disinterested in most foods, that wave of sickness passing through you at the hint of various scents.
At first you’d convinced yourself it was a bug, but as you’d excused yourself from the table, suddenly nauseous after lifting a piece of broccoli to your mouth, you began to wonder if that was all it was.
You’d stood there, in your parents downstairs toilet, peering at yourself in the mirror. The sound of Sukuna making strained conversation echoed through the wooden door and you paid it little mind, letting words drift into mere noise while you studied your reflection. It was hard to recognise the person staring back at you, with your sunken eyes and chapped lips serving as a constant reminder of the difficult few weeks you’d had.
But those weren’t the changes you were focussed on.
Prodding at your cheeks, you became certain that you were putting on weight, your face a little rounder than you were used to it being. In addition, acne had begun to spring up across your forehead and chin, symptoms that were usually only present when you were on your period.
Now that you were considering it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on your period.
It hadn’t been cause for concern, because the contraceptive pill had occasionally caused inconsistency with your cycle, meaning a missed period or spotting wasn’t unusual. That paired with how much stress you’d been under, it came as no surprise that you hadn’t been bleeding as usual.
That combined with the nausea though? And the subtle changes to your face? That was a concern.
You hadn’t realised how long you’d been in there pondering the facts until there was a quiet knock on the door.
“Is everything okay honey?” Your mother called out.
“Yeah, all good.”
“Can I come in?”
Swallowing, you dried tears that had appeared on your face, not quite sure when you’d started crying. You pulled open the door and let her step in. If she noticed the redness of your cheeks she said nothing, simply pulling the door shut behind her to get some privacy.
“You’ve been in here a while,” she commented. You turned back to the mirror, watching her through the reflection as she sat down on the edge of the bath, eyes meeting yours. “Are you sure you’re okay? We’re not upsetting you are we? I know dad can be difficult.”
Shrugging, you shook your head. “It's what I expected. It's fine.” It wasn’t fine, you loved Sukuna and you wanted others to see what you could see - you hated that a dinner with your parents felt like torture all because you dad didn’t approve, but asking him to change his ways would be like asking the sun to stop shining, so there was no point in lamenting.
“It's not fine. I’ll speak to him. I know we were both shocked when you brought Sukuna here, but if he makes you happy I’ll do nothing to chase him away.”
“You don’t like him though, do you?” You asked, staring at her bitterly through the mirror. Your hand had subconsciously moved up to your stomach, and a fresh wave of nausea forced its way through you, leaving you swaying on your feet.
“I…” She hesitated. “I was surprised, but I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.” It was a diplomatic answer, and you did all you could to avoid rolling your eyes. “But what I think doesn’t matter. Do you like him, sweetheart? Do you think he’s good for you?”
“Yes.”
That was the easiest answer you’d ever given.
“Then that’s all that matters to me, and it's all that should matter to you dad,” she said. “I just don’t want you to drift away from us because of this. It would break my heart for you to go off and have children with him only for us to never see them because we can’t play nice. If that boy treats you well, then your dad will just have to accept it.”
You nodded, only half listening. What she was saying was nice, you appreciated the sentiment, finding it pleasant to have someone on your side for once. However, you were too focused on the shifting feeling in your stomach to be truly grateful for what she was saying. You just wanted to be left alone, uninterested in having a conversation about your current state with your mother.
A basic acceptance of Sukuna being in your life was probably already a big enough adjustment for her.
Adding a potential pregnancy into the mix could ruin everything.
Especially when you had no idea how you were meant to feel about it.
“Anyway,” she continued at your silence. “I’ll leave you be - I don’t want to abandon Sukuna to your father for too long. Don’t hide away all night, I think it's better if your dad sees the two of you together looking all happy - it’ll soften him up.”
You offered her a smile as she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder before heading back to the dinner table, the quiet sound of conversation continuing while you remained still, hands grasping the edge of the basin, wondering if the small portion of food you’d eaten was going to rise up from your stomach.
There was no point in panicking until you were certain of what you suspected, and for now you almost wanted to bury your head in the sand. Even though you loved Sukuna, this didn’t feel like the right time for this - you were still picking through so much trauma and you couldn’t imagine doing that with a baby at your hip.
Besides, you weren’t particularly certain how Sukuna would take the news.
He’d always been open about wanting children with you one day, but you assumed that was a statement for the future, once the two of you were in a better position. There was no space in Sukuna’s apartment to raise a child - you’d have to drastically change both of your lives if you were going to make space for an extra addition.
Panic swelled within you, and you braced yourself harder against the sink, your head spinning.
It wasn’t something you had the time or space to consider. You had too much on your mind to really think about it. For all you knew, you could be getting ahead of yourself - what if you were just ill? What if everything was a coincidence? Worrying before taking a pregnancy test was foolish.
You’d wait until Sukuna was at work and buy one at the drug store, and until then you’d give it no further thought.
—
On the way to the drug store the following day, you ran into Yuki. It was a chance meeting - she was stepping out of the coffee shop next door, brown eyes widening as they met yours. Conversation between the two of you had been limited, mainly on your part. You could find little energy to spend time with anyone who wasn’t Sukuna, and seeing Yuki had unpleasant memories rushing through your mind.
That same feeling seemed to present itself in her, as she winced at the sight of you, quickly attempting to replace the expression with an uneasy smile.
She looked similar to you - her eyes were sunken and exhausted, and she’d lost some weight since you’d last seen her. She was usually a muscular girl, the epitome of health, and to see her looking so skinny made your heart sink.
“Hey. Long time no see,” she said. Her tone was lacking any enthusiasm, but you knew not to take it personally. If her last few weeks had been anything like yours, she simply didn’t have the energy to spare.
“Hey,” you responded bashfully. “Sorry I’ve been bad at replying to your texts…”
“Don’t sweat it. I get it.” She chewed on her lower lip, swaying awkwardly on her feet. “Do you wanna come to my place? I could really do with talking to you.” The reluctance in your eyes must’ve been evident, because she was quick to continue speaking. “Nothing sinister. I just miss you.”
Glancing at the drug store, you nodded. “Sure, I just need to grab something first if that’s okay?”
“Yeah of course.”
Much to your dismay, she followed you as you stepped into the store. You’d assumed she’d wait for you outside, but you should’ve known that luck never tended to favour you in such a manner. Agonising in your head, you wondered if you should buy something other than a pregnancy test to avoid any questions from Yuki, but in the end you decided that would be embarrassingly cowardly.
Both of you were adults. If you needed a pregnancy test, you needed a pregnancy test. There was no scandal to be had.
You picked one up from the shelves casually, casting a sideways glance at your friend as you did so. Something akin to disappointment flickered in her eyes for a moment, but she managed to conceal it well. She offered no words of judgement, trailing behind you as you went to pay, and failing to mention it on the short walk back to her place.
It had been a long time since you were last at her house, but it felt comforting to be there all the same. Yuki had always had a great eye for decor, and her living room was filled with tasteful colours and low lighting which gave it a lovely cozy feeling. It was sweet to see Choso’s things scattered with Yuki’s across the room, making it clear that the space belonged to the both of them.
Soon, you’d have to speak to Sukuna about moving into his place properly - or perhaps having the two of you move into a new place entirely. It would be nice to have something that belonged to the two of you, rather than feeling like you were intruding on a space that belonged only to him. You wanted more than a single drawer in his home.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Green tea?” She asked, as you settled down on one of the sofas, sinking back against the pillow.
“I’m okay.” You still weren’t over your wave of sickness that morning, and didn’t want to consume anything that would make it worse. Yuki nodded, and sat down across from you, an awkwardness settling over the room as the two of you sat there in silence.
After weeks apart, you weren’t clear on what to say to Yuki. You didn’t know if you should discuss what had happened at Satoru’s lakehouse, or if you should ask about the trauma that followed. Both matters were touchy subjects of discussion. But equally, it felt hard to discuss anything else. Sukuna was off the table, and so was Shoko. It felt like you’d have to dance around so many topics that it was easier not to speak at all.
While considering your next words, you found yourself remembering that you’d been invited to Yuki’s house, leaving the burden of conversation on her shoulders not yours. That had you relaxing a little, watching your friend struggle with the same conflict in her own mind.
She took a long sip of coffee before speaking, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “I’m sorry, for what I did back at Satoru’s place. I shouldn’t have- sorry.”
You tilted your head, struggling to compute what she was saying. In your mind she had nothing to apologise for - you’d all been in a terrifying situation brought on by a couple of psychopaths. Unless she’d outright invited them into the house, there was no apology needed.
But the deep guilt in her eyes was stark, like it had been eating away at her for a long time.
“I know you’re mad at me. I think you hate me, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me. I get it, I picked you to be hurt by Mahito, I probably deserve to be hated.”
Your memory of that evening was largely spotty, and you’d blocked out much of what had happened to you. At Yuki’s words, the memory of Mahito forcing her to inflict injury onto you or Shoko came rushing back to you. It wasn’t something you’d held against her - she didn’t truly have a choice in the matter. If she hadn’t chosen a name Mahito would’ve killed you all.
What else was she meant to do but pick you? Especially with Shoko in the state she’d been in.
“I’m not mad at you, Yuki. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you said softly. “I haven’t been avoiding you either, I just haven’t had energy for anyone but Sukuna. I can barely drag myself from bed in the morning.”
“Right,” she mumbled, clutching her coffee cup a little harder. “But I deserve hatred. I watched him cut you up and did nothing. Shoko was more of a saviour to you than I was - all I could do was cry and watch it happen.”
“And you’re alive. So that was probably the right thing to do.” Shoko’s actions had been foolish. You’d had no way of knowing it at the time, but if she’d just held on a little longer perhaps she’d still be alive. The boys could’ve rescued all three of you.
Yuki nodded, brows furrowing as tears pricked at her eyes. You were only just noticing how bloodshot they were, like she’d been crying so regularly that the white was permanently tinged with red.
It was sad to see someone like her reduced to tears.
“Shoko. Oh god,” she sniffled. “I can’t stop seeing her when I close my eyes. I was angry at her when she died, so fucking angry over the fact she’d slept with Choso all those years ago. What kind of a wicked person am I to have felt that way about her in her final moments? It was such an unimportant thing and I was seething at her just before her heart stopped. I’m so fucking selfish.”
You rose to your feet, crossing the gap between the two of you and taking a seat at her side. Your arm looped around her shoulder, and you pulled her close to you as she cried, struggling to hear her ramblings while she wept into your shirt. It was a dynamic you’d never experienced before, unaccustomed to comforting Yuki, but you did your best all the same.
“Stop, Yuki. There’s no point in guilt. She’s gone and there’s nothing we could’ve done - we were both just trying to live.”
She said nothing, and you let her cry for a while longer, stroking your hand through her long blonde hair. It felt like it had been a long time since the two of you had sat together in any amount of harmony for more than five minutes. Ever since Sukuna had come into your life things had been tense and uncomfortable - for once you felt like the two of you were on common ground, just like you had been throughout your teenage years.
Even if this particular common ground was something you wished you didn’t have to share.
Slowly, Yuki drew back from you, drying her tears with her sleeve. She took a deep breath as she stared over at you, cogs working away in her brain, like she had much more to divulge but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach the topic.
“Did he rape you? Mahito?” She asked, abandoning any tact and coming straight out with the question. Your heart picked up in fear at the mere mention of the word, unwilling to consider how close you’d actually come to that fate.
“No. Sukuna found me first.”
She let out a laugh which sounded almost bitter, dropping her voice as she spoke. “Right, of course he did.” Before you could question what she meant by that, she was speaking once more. “I was raped, did you know that? Did your boyfriend tell you that?”
Reeling, you shuffled back from her a little, caught off guard by her fresh burst of spiteful energy. Her statement had come so suddenly that you were struggling to get your head around it, your mind still on her guilt and sorrow for Shoko, struggling to understand how anything had to do with Sukuna.
“What?” You stumbled over the word. “I d-didn’t know. Oh Yuki-”
“Stop. It happened, there’s nothing to be done about that. I’m glad it didn’t happen to you, but were you aware that it didn’t need to happen to me either?”
Still struggling to follow, you tilted your head in question. “O-of course it didn’t need to happen. Those guys were awful, they should have never-”
She sighed, cutting you off. “Of course you don’t know. Why would he have told you? It would ruin his image, wouldn’t it?”
“What?” You asked, dumbfounded and eager for Yuki to just get to the point already. Your head was starting to spin and you didn’t want to focus too hard on anything. If she wanted you to reach a conclusion on your own she'd have to accept that you were in no physical condition to do so at that moment.
“Sukuna saw me. He saw me in a room with that man, skulked about in the hallway watching while Jogo hit me, while he climbed on top of me. He could’ve stopped it, could’ve burst in and helped but he didn’t. He disappeared off to look for you and left me to my fate. It was five minutes until Choso found me, five minutes that I’ll never forget.”
Conflict warred in your heart, leaving you uncertain on how to react. Sukuna had told you Yuki was safe - he’d lied. To leave someone to their fate at the hands of a psychopath was despicable behaviour, and exactly the type of thing that Yuki warned you about when it came to him.
But at the same time you couldn’t help but believe he’d lied for a good reason. His first priority had always been you, and if he’d felt that intervening with Yuki’s situation would leave you to a dire fate, it didn’t surprise you to hear he’d make a harsh decision.
It didn’t make you feel okay about it, but you could understand his thinking. The couple of minutes he’d have taken to save Yuki might’ve been minutes in which you’d be raped or killed, and he was unwilling to risk that.
He’d made a hard decision out of love for you. He’d known Choso was coming for Yuki, but no one else was coming for you except him.
Besides, a nasty part of you questioned Yuki’s statement regardless. It had been a stressful night for all involved, and who was to say that she truly saw what she thought she saw. For this to be the first time she’d mentioned it felt odd, and she’d admitted to wanting to sabotage your relationship once already. You were deeply sorry for what had happened to her, but you couldn’t understand why Sukuna needed to take the blame.
The person deserving of blame was rotting in a prison cell. There was no more to be discussed.
Your thought process must’ve reflected into your eyes, because Yuki’s face contorted into an expression of sheer horror. “Oh my god, you don’t believe me. Why the fuck would I lie? He looked at me and walked away. Your sweet boyfriend left me to be raped.”
“Yuki, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that happened to you. But I’m not going to disparage Sukuna without at least talking to him first. We were all in a stressful situation and everyone made mistakes - you yourself said you made mistakes - it's not fair to assume something that hasn’t even been discussed.”
She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. What will it take to convince you that he’s rotten?”
You scoffed. “‘To convince me’,” you echoed flatly, “and you wonder why I didn’t instantly believe you. All you ever do is try to drive a wedge between us. If Sukuna had stepped in and saved you - if I’d been raped because of that, you would’ve used that as an excuse to prove he was rotten.”
Yuki parted her lips to protest, but the words died on her tongue. She knew that to be true - no matter the situation she would always use it as an opportunity to twist it around on him. She knew it.
“Please, Yuki, I’ll speak to him about it. I feel terrible about what happened to you but you have to stop attacking my boyfriend at every turn. I already lost Shoko, I don’t want to lose you too.”
She shook her head, shoulders dropping in defeat, a look of sheer disbelief marring her face. “God, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? It's embarrassing. I feel like I’m watching you get chipped away and I can’t stop it no matter what I do.”
“Perhaps you could’ve tried being kind to me,” you said, voice trembling a little. “For the last few months you’ve done nothing but treat me like I’m stupid, so I’m sorry if I seem difficult, or distant. I don’t want to fight with you, I haven’t even said that I don’t believe you, but you only ever see what you want.”
Yuki bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for that. I just couldn’t see another way, and now it's too late, isn’t it? His claws are in you. I suppose his kid is too, huh?” She asked, gesturing to your bag, where a pregnancy test sat within.
You said nothing, tears prickling at your eyes. You didn’t want to deal with any of this, you simply wanted to go home and curl up in a cocoon and forget everything you’d heard from Yuki that morning. You wanted Sukuna to wrap himself around you and play with your hair, and you wanted to stay there for all of time, until everything disappeared but you and him.
“Are you just gonna keep it?” She asked quietly, the plea in her tone not going amiss.
“I don’t know,” you answered coolly, getting to your feet and pulling your bag over your shoulder. You’d gain nothing from staying there longer beyond Yuki taking more shots at your lover, and it would do little to sway your opinion. You’d speak to him about it once he was home later that evening.
But you knew it would change little.
If Yuki and Sukuna were the only witnesses to the situation, they would exchange barbs and differing views until the end of time.
And ultimately you’d have to side with the person you were in love with.
Heading towards the door, you paused at the threshold, casting a look back at your friend. She was staring at you, sadness and anger blending together in her chestnut eyes.
“For the record, Yuki, if the situation was reversed and Choso saw me in peril and walked away knowing that you weren’t safe either and wanted to get to you first, I would forgive him. People prioritise those they love, and you can call that fucked up all you want, but its human nature. I mean, you chose me for Mahito to cut open. We’re all ugly in an ugly situation.”
You didn’t let her speak again, slamming the door behind you and exiting onto the street beyond.
—
The rest of your day had been spent obsessively cleaning Sukuna’s apartment. It was an activity that was long overdue, because things had been piling up over the past few weeks with you in a lethargic state. It would be nice for Sukuna to come home to a clean place, as a thank you for looking after you so well while you’d been incapable of anything.
Besides, cleaning was an activity that allowed you to take your mind off things.
Between the unpleasantness of the conversation you’d had with Yuki, and the positive pregnancy test sitting in the bathroom trash, you could really do with letting your mind go blank at least until Sukuna came home.
Once he was there to share your problems and concerns with, things would be better. Issues always seemed smaller when voiced, and Sukuna always knew the right thing to say or do. Spending the afternoon laying in bed fretting would do you no good.
Starting in the kitchen, you’d been thorough in working your way through Sukuna’s apartment - scrubbing the floors, dusting the bookshelves, wiping the insides of the windows. By the time you made it into the bathroom, your final obstacle for the day, it was growing dark outside.
Sukuna had said he’d be back late that evening. It was the birthday of one of the guys on the construction crew, and he’d been invited out for drinks after work. You were certain it wouldn’t be long until he made it home, never eager on spending too much time with his coworkers, so you picked up your pace as you set to making the bathroom sparkle.
It had been easy, mindless work much like everything else that afternoon until you ran a mop across the floor and knocked a tile loose.
Initially, you’d thought nothing of it, putting the mop aside for a moment and moving to put the tile back in its place below the sink. Your hand faltered at the realisation that there was a hollowed out space beneath the misplaced tile, with a small plastic bag hidden within.
If you were wise, perhaps you would’ve left it alone. Maybe you would’ve assumed that it had been left there by a previous occupant of the apartment, or maybe by the tilers who had originally fitted the bathroom. But curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself reaching into the hole and withdrawing the plastic bag from its position.
What you held was a neatly packed thing, containing a mobile phone, car keys and a wallet. None of the items looked recognisable to you - Sukuna’s phone was black and, as of recently, had a Hello Kitty charm you’d given him dangling from it, meanwhile this phone was silver and bare. Not to mention, the blue wallet looked nothing like Sukuna’s usual leather one.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting as you pulled the items from their bag, wondering if Sukuna even knew of their existence. Perhaps some criminal had lived here before him and had stowed away a spare phone and ID to use for illegal dealings. You placed the phone and keys on the counter, turning your attention immediately to the wallet.
For some reason it felt familiar to you, with the insignia of some heavy metal band printed across the front.
There was no time for you to ponder on where you’d seen it before - no need for you to connect the dots on your own, not when your fingers were already prying open the wallet, gaze falling upon a gut-wrenchingly familiar face staring at you from the ID hidden within.
Hajime Kashimo.
All the air in your lungs disappeared, and you found yourself frozen. No thoughts came to your mind, all you could do was stare blankly at the item in your hand, unwilling to draw any conclusions about what its presence in your boyfriend’s floor meant. Slowly, your eyes moved to the phone, suddenly realising how familiar it was to you - as was the lightning bolt keychain hanging from the set of keys.
Why would anything of Kashimo’s be in Sukuna’s apartment?
They hadn’t known each other.
Your body moved on its own, reaching for the phone and flipping it open, dismayed to find that it was dead, offering no further explanation as to what was going on. Slowly you put it down, sinking to your knees, gaze still fixed on that image of Kashimo staring up at you.
There had to be an explanation for this - some reason for Sukuna to possess these items, something that would make everything make sense. There had to be. And yet, there was some part of you that told you to exert caution, to think lucidly about what you’d just found, to consider the facts of the last time you’d seen Kashimo.
Satoru had told you about the man’s infidelity, and Sukuna had comforted you afterwards. You’d largely considered that moment to be the catalyst for your relationship to bloom. Kashimo had been normal with you for the rest of the reunion, only showing his true colours via text after he’d left.
From a phone that was now in possession of your boyfriend.
Since then, you had heard nothing from Kashimo, aware only of a snippet of a rumor from a university acquaintance that he had moved out of the city and left his band in the lurch. Gone off to Hollywood, apparently, not unlike Yorozu.
Anxiety pushed its way into your chest as your brain connected the last few dots. Sukuna had seemed so comfortable in his execution of Mahito, so controlled in the way he guided your hand, like he’d done it many times before.
Maybe he had done it before.
Perhaps he’d framed Kashimo of something despicable and disposed of him before you could ever verify the truth.
No, no, no.
You wouldn’t believe it. You couldn’t. Sukuna had been nothing but loving towards you, always looking out for your best interests, offering you comfort and protection in your darkest times. He couldn’t have killed him, or if he did there would’ve been a good reason for it.
That you were certain of.
Earlier that day you’d told Yuki that you wouldn’t condemn Sukuna without hearing him out first, and in that moment you were jumping to all kinds of conclusions. There was an explanation - of course there was an explanation, you just needed to ask for it.
Trying to contain the tremor in your hands, you packed the items back into the bag and returned them to their position, sliding the tile back to where it had been before. Letting out a shuddering breath, you tried your best to calm yourself at the click of the front door, your heart rate spiking at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out for you.
It was okay. There would be a reasonable explanation for everything. You didn’t need to act strange with the man you loved and you certainly didn’t need to be fearful of him.
You knew that.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you put on a gentle smile of greeting, your worries easing ever so slightly beneath his crimson gaze. He stared at you with such love and reverence, his expression holding a softness which pushed your anxieties straight to the back of your head.
“Rough day, baby?” He asked, crossing the gap between you. A hand came up to stroke your face before pulling you close, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. The contact had your gut tightening with pleasure, and you wondered how you could ever doubt someone you adored so much.
There was an explanation. There had to be an explanation.
A mix of nausea and exhaustion washed over you at the thought of confronting him about it that evening. Between your talk with Yuki and the knowledge that a child was growing within you, you were limited on mental bandwidth, and couldn’t face another shock that evening.
You wanted to get your thoughts in order first about everything - the kid, Yuki’s claim, Kashimo’s belongings - wanted to pretend that everything was okay for the evening before you did anything rash.
All your questions would still be there in the morning, and maybe answers would be more obvious in the light of day. You couldn’t deny that you were exhausted, not thinking straight in the way that usually would. You just needed time to think. Perhaps the next day you’d awaken and realise your findings had been nothing more than a nightmare. You’d had no shortage of those after all.
“Just tired,” you lied as you pulled back from his kiss. The words came out shaky, and Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He knew you well enough to sniff out a lie with little effort.
“Did something happen?” He asked, his voice dropping low. “You look like you’ve been crying.” You weren’t really aware that you had been. A few tears had dripped down your cheeks at the sight of the positive pregnancy test, still unsure what to think of the outcome, but that was hours ago. You supposed the day had worn on your face more than you’d realised.
“No, just struggling with the usual stuff,” you confessed.
“Right.” His thumb brushed your face tenderly, red eyes darting around the room. “You cleaned up.” It was embarrassing to admit how deeply you read into that observation, scanning for any hint of concern in his voice, but you found none. On the contrary, he seemed pleased with you.
“I just thought it would be nice.”
“Thank you, baby.” He planted a kiss on top of your head, giving you a tight squeeze. You were reminded just how strong he was, suddenly aware of how impossible it would be to overpower him if he ever decided to use that strength against you. A shiver passed through you at the thought.
It didn’t matter. Because there was an explanation for everything. He’d never hurt you. Never.
“What do you want for dinner? We can order from that pizza place you like? Watch an episode of The Sopranos?” He pulled back to look at you, the charming smile you loved so much plastered on his handsome face.
You wanted to say yes, but the thought of sitting with him quietly while all your thoughts were swirling around in your head was far from ideal. You needed to go to sleep, fearful that prolonged time at his side would give away what you knew and put you in a position of having to deal with things before you were ready.
Besides, the idea of watching Tony Soprano kill so ruthlessly on screen while you grappled with the question of whether your boyfriend had done the same didn’t sound like your idea of a good time.
“I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ve got a really bad headache and I don’t want to make it any worse.” Sukuna’s face fell, and your own chest ached at the disappointment in his eyes. He’d been waiting all day to come home and spend time with you - he’d confessed that was what kept him going at work.
Just like he’d been your shining light through all the trauma, you were his shining light too - the one thing that really mattered to him. And here you were pushing him away over something you were certain could be explained.
That wasn’t fair.
But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it either to clear the confusion up, hairs standing on the back of your neck when you considered broaching the topic.
It was just a result of your exhaustion. That was all.
“Okay, baby. Have you taken anything for the pain?.” His hand brushed soothingly against your forehead, and guilt knotted itself together in your stomach. How could you believe this man guilty of any wrongdoing when he was always so tender to you?
Did it even matter if he was guilty? He was all you really had, the singular thing keeping you sane after everything that had happened. It was likely your overactive imagination jumping to conclusions anyway, that was the issue here, not Sukuna. Not the man who loved you so much he’d do absolutely anything for your sake.
“I haven’t.”
“I’ll get you some painkillers, you go and lie down.” Another dizzy spell overcame you as you made your way to the bedroom, leaning heavily against the doorframe as all the thoughts of the day rushed at you. You didn’t want to be at odds with Sukuna over anything. You wanted to curl up against his side and drift off knowing you were safe.
Because you were safe with him. He’d saved you from Mahito. And now your brain was trying to convince you that something was wrong? You were always sabotaging yourself - how could you be sure that Kashimo’s belongings had even been under those floorboards? You hadn’t exactly been able to trust your mind lately.
What if you’d hallucinated up an issue? What then?
The pregnancy had come as a massive shock to you, perhaps your brain was trying to come up with excuses as to why it wouldn’t work.
Somewhere within you, there was an awareness that line of thinking was delusional. Likewise, there was an awareness that there was no mistake in the meaning behind Sukuna owning things that had belonged to Kashimo. You knew, somewhere in the distant recesses of your mind, that Kashimo was dead.
That Sukuna had done it.
And with that flickered a question about what else he had done, a thought promptly swept away by the currents of your mind before you could cling to it. Because acceptance didn’t come easy, not when you loved the person responsible.
You couldn’t let yourself believe it, forcing a smile and accepting your own poor mental state as an explanation for what you’d seen.
Sukuna stepped into the bedroom, painkillers in hand along with a glass of water which he handed over to you. There was something odd in his expression, like he had a question to ask you. Slowly he sat down on the bed, reaching out for your hand and holding it tightly within his.
“Have you got something to tell me?”
For all the delusion you’d fed yourself, your blood still ran cold. Had you put the tile back incorrectly? Did he know what you knew? Sweat gathered on your brow, tongue frozen in your mouth when you tried to speak, unsure how to best formulate a question or an explanation.
He wouldn’t hurt you, would he? No, you doubted it. He was too possessive of you.
Before you could put any words together, he spoke once more. “I saw the test in the trash.”
Oh. You’d been so frazzled upon knocking the tile aside that you hadn’t finished your full clean of the bathroom, and had forgotten to empty the wastebin, leaving your positive test there for anyone to see. You hadn’t formulated a plan on how you were going to share the news with him, but you hadn’t wanted him to find out like this.
Before you could stop them, tears sprung to your eyes, all the emotion of the day overwhelming you. There was too much going on for you to process it. With the Kashimo discovery and Yuki’s harsh words you’d had no time to think about your opinion on the pregnancy, and now you were being directly confronted on it.
Why couldn’t you just catch a break for once?
Sukuna’s eyes widened in panic, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “Hey, don’t cry. It's okay baby, come here.”
It wasn’t okay, nothing was okay.
But you leant into his embrace all the same, wetting his hoodie with your tears in a display which had become all too common between the two of you. He didn’t push you for anything more, expecting no explanation, simply stroking your hair affectionately. You could feel his heart thudding excitedly beneath his ribs and once again a strange guilt prickled at you.
“Do you…” He trailed off. “Do you not want this? The baby?”
A pang of hurt went straight through your heart at the dejected nature of his tone. It was clear that he was thrilled, that seeing the test lying in the trash had been something positive for him.
And there you were moping and doubting.
“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I feel like I’m just being overwhelmed lately. I don’t have time to even consider what I really think about the baby.” You pulled back from him slightly, letting him dab your tears with his fingers.
“What else is on your mind? Maybe I can help?”
“Nothing.” The statement came out too quickly, and in a higher pitch than you would’ve liked. Sukuna seemed suspicious of the response for a moment, before letting it go with a sigh. You’d been fairly odd lately anyway, and considering what he’d just discovered, who could blame you for being a bit off? “I’m just- I don’t know, depressed from everything.”
He nodded, biting on his lower lip. “Well, it's not like you have to make a decision now, you can’t be far along. If you don’t want it we’ll deal with that.” There was a sadness in his voice that told you that wasn’t what he wanted to do, and pity began to gnaw away at your stomach. “To be clear, I’d like you to keep it, but it's your choice baby. I know how hard these months have been. I’ll love you no matter what.”
A soft kiss was pressed into your hair, sending a flush across your cheeks. Of course he’d love you no matter what, he’d made that clear on more than one occasion. Could you love him no matter what? If your suspicions about Kashimo bore fruit? If Yuki’s claim was true?
How would you implode if you walked away from him? What would you have then, in a life where you’d steadily been falling apart at the seams with nothing but him to hold you together?
The anxiety built up within you again, and despite wanting to lay the matter to rest for a while, you simply couldn’t. You had to ask him.
“Sukuna.”
“Yeah?”
“Would you kill for me?”
“Yeah.” He said it without hesitation. There was no dramatic flair to his response, nothing to suggest that what he said was false bravado like most boyfriends might display to their partners. It was a simple confirmation, one that you knew to be true as his red eyes met yours. “You know I would. You’ve seen it.”
He was right. Even if your hand had been on the trigger that evening with Mahito, it had been Sukuna who was in control - his hand caressing your carefully, guiding you into an action you never would’ve managed on your own.
It wasn’t a first kill. You should’ve been more aware of that the moment it happened. Sukuna had been painfully calm.
“Right,” your voice went quiet.
Sukuna’s fingers came to graze your chin, holding you to meet his gaze properly. There was no hate or anger in those red eyes - you never encountered anything but love there, a love that made your stomach flip with desire whenever you saw it, a love that you weren't sure could be displaced by anything even if you wanted it to be.
“Why do you ask, baby?” His nose brushed against yours, and again you found yourself tongue-tied beneath the intensity of your presence. You knew you should've come out and said what you saw, but fear stopped you. Because the moment those words spilt from your mouth, everything was going to change, you knew that.
And you weren’t sure it was a change you wanted.
“I- um- I don’t know. Just wondering.” You squeaked, cursing yourself as you backed down.
There was something amused in his expression, watching you carefully, not unlike a cat observing a mouse caught beneath its paws. “I’d kill anyone who caused you harm, anyone who tried to steal away your happiness. I killed Mahito to protect you, and I’d do it again. You’re the only person who matters to me. Is that a problem?”
It was a problem, but his words tugged on your heartstrings all the same. There was something romantic about a man who would do anything for you. If you hadn't been with a man like Sukuna, who knows where you’d be. Perhaps your brains would’ve been splattered across the floor at Mahito’s feet.
“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know if it's a problem. It depends.”
“On?”
“How far you would go.” Sukuna’s eyes glimmered with interest. He brought his lips to your neck, kissing away at the exposed skin, almost as if he was testing whether you’d push him away. You didn’t, you weren’t sure that you could, your heart fluttering desperately beneath his touch, telling you to forget the conversation and move on.
You were having such a good time, why open a can of worms when things had been fine?
“I would go as far as necessary to keep you safe. That’s all,” he murmured against your skin. “Now, is there something specific you want to ask? Or is this nothing more than a thought experiment?”
Again you tried to build your courage, but found you had none to give. In your frazzled condition you weren’t certain you were capable of providing objectivity on anything. You needed to regroup - to think carefully about what Sukuna had said and re-examine the evidence you’d found. You needed to look at Kashimo's phone. You needed to consider whether Sukuna’s presence at your side trumped morality.
After all, you were a killer too. What if Sukuna had his reasons for the situation with Kashimo, like you’d had your reasons with Mahito? There was always an angle to consider, and in the midst of a panic on the day you’d found out you were pregnant, was neither the time nor the place.
“It was just a thought,” you spoke softly, leaning into the fluttering kisses spreading down against your shoulder, his fingers pushing your shirt down to give him better access to his soft skin, sucking marks on top of the purple bruises that already existed there.
He hummed, but you weren’t confident he believed you, a shock of something strange in his deep red eyes. “Of course, baby.” His hands slid beneath your shirt, sliding up the bare skin of your sides, earning a shiver from you. His touch was still as pleasant as ever, still something you yearned desperately for.
And despite him being the cause of much of your anxiety that evening, he also seemed like the only solution - the one person who could allay all your worries with his mere presence, touching you with an affection that you could receive from nobody but him. The very reason that you would jump to no conclusions or decisions.
You loved him.
You needed him.
It was as simple as that.
“Want me to leave you alone for a bit?” He whispered huskily against your ear. “You said you wanted to sleep.”
It probably would’ve been best for you to agree - to nod along and leave him to have his dinner alone while you drifted off beneath his soft sheets. But you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away any more than you could bring yourself to condemn him for evidence that lay plain before your eyes.
“I want you here, if that’s okay?”
The look on his face could only be described as pure euphoria, like you’d just handed him an award you weren’t aware you were giving out. He was always thrilled to be with you, but this was something else, like a balance of power had just shifted and you weren’t sharp enough to understand how.
“Of course. I’d do anything for you, baby.”
That night, you spent hours tangled in his sheets just as usual. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping you pinned beneath him, his lips set to work on every inch of your tired body while he filled you up over and over again with long, intimate strokes. This was Sukuna at his very sweetest, making love to you in a manner that proved his devotion.
There was no roughness about it, nothing kinky like you’d grown accustomed to with him.
This was deeply loving, and it was all about you. There was something in his movements that was sending you a message, as if he was thanking you or perhaps opening up to you on a whole different level of trust that you’d never held with each other before.
“You’re mine, you’ll always be mine, won’t you baby? I’ll never let anyone else have you.” He’d mumbled in your ear, just one of many possessive statements breathed out between desperate moans of pleasure. And you’d agreed, lost in the throes of passion, consumed by him just like you always were.
Because you really were his.
You didn’t want anything to change that.
It would be nice to be able to slip back into the ignorance you’d held that morning, before you’d spoken to Yuki or cleaned the damn apartment. It really was bliss, to not have concern and anxiety eating away at your chest, leading you to question everything you held sacred in your life.
If only you could banish it all away.
Because in your soul, deep in there, you knew now that Sukuna was rotten.
On some level you’d known it for a while. Yuki and your parents had made no mistake in their assessments, and you’d brushed it aside all the same. You were drawn inexplicably to the man even through all his failings. If you’d had any sense you would’ve run far from him the moment he’d broken in through your window. But you didn’t, and there you were, tangled up so intimately with a man who had likely murdered your ex-boyfriend.
Tangled with him and whispering words of love and affection against his shoulder, tangled with him and letting his hands run over your stomach where your baby grew, tangled with him and letting him do whatever he liked with you - just as you always had.
Because even as the rot he carried with him festered, visible to your eyes in a way it never had been before, you still weren’t sure you could bear to part with him.
a/n: sukuna actually crazy for the impact he's had on reader's mental over several years (since ryu) to the point where she's even hesitating after finding that stuff in his bathroom :(
stay with the murderous boyfriend and pretend everything's fine vs confront him and lose everything you love (and possibly your life) our girl is going THROUGH it :(
hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
ryomen sukuna who is smitten with sweet, slightly clueless reader
ryomen sukuna was off limits.
all the cheerleaders knew it. all his fellow jocks knew it. hell even the younger female professors, who couldn't help but stare at him , knew it.
he is built like a greek god and acts like a retired sergeant. no one can tear their gaze off him when he is on the field , and yet no one truly dares to approach him when he is off the field either.
he has a nasty personality that doesn't shy away from saying "fuck off " right on the face of even the prettiest cheerleader—hence shattering her confidence completely. rumours even suggested that said girl never dared confess to anyone ever again.
you were just a happy go lucky.
sweet dresses, pretty jewellery, neat hair. you were just a girl with a sweet, slightly clueless personality. everyone's friend and enemy of none and so on and so forth.
you had your own circle of close people—even though one could count them on the phalanges of a single digit.
a different world from the one in which the formidable campus king ruled.
hell, no one could have ever suspected in a million years that ryomen sukuna would cross paths with you. or that he would , quite literally, trip over himself while he watched you feed a stray kitten.
who would have known that his eyes would track your easy smiles and register your presence in every room you entered.
and that he would carry you out of a frat party, drunken and smiling and giggling into his chest, all the while safely nestled in his arms, as if you had him wrapped around your little fingers.
in all honesty, you did.
the ryomen sukuna was in love
with you .
you, who wished on airplanes and made it a regular habit of quizzing him about the various shapes he could decipher from the clouds above.
you , to whom laughs came easily. you who was happy with giving away your meals to stray animals.
no one expected the formidable captain would be so besotted with a girl .
ryomen who never gave any woman the time of his day , would become so enamored by you that he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze off of you.
the students would gape openly when they saw him waiting for you outside your class, walking with you to your next class.
or the bomb—gently tucking your hair behind your ear.
ryomen sukuna did not do soft or sweet.
but he did... apparently. for you. with you.
ryomen sukuna didn't let random girls kiss his cheek. but you weren't a random girl. you were his girl.
so his teammates stared slack jawed at the light lipstick stained kiss on his cheek—averting their gazes before they could be faced with his wrath for staring too long.
ryomen sukuna didn't carry other girls baggage for them. so why were his arms full of art supplies and projects even though his major had absolutely nothing to do with it?
it was called being smitten, ofcourse .
with you.
who , for ryomen, hung the stars and moon in his sky.
getting back shots in someone else's bed post-breakup is fun - until you have a bump to show for it a few months later
pairing: baby daddy!Sukuna x f!Reader
content: mdni, pregnancy, friends to strangers to co-parents, messy relationship history, ex-bf!Gojo, leaving a toxic relationship, one night stand, oral (f! receiving), face sitting, reverse cowgirl, multiple positions + povs, condom breaking, sukuna is obsessed, pining
art by @winterrbluess + divider by @bronzewasp <3
Getting dumped and knocked up in two hours was probably a new world record.
Clingy, your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend called you. Too fucking busy to text you back half the time and too tired to pay you an ounce of attention when he did make the time for you. You guessed you weren't even worth the effort it took to show up to the stupid date you'd been looking forward to all week - just getting his can't make it message when you were already all dressed up and parked outside his favorite restaurant.
Gojo didn't even pick up your call.
Just coldly suggested you needed to take a break if you couldn't handle his schedule. Like his hours were what bothered you instead of his attitude.
So why should you fight for something he clearly had no interest in saving?
Even if cancelling the reservation felt like nailing the coffin shut on years of your relationship, you blocked his number, but instead of going home to box up his stuff, you pulled up directions to the nearest bar.
You noticed him on drink number three.
But he'd been watching you since you stepped inside.
If he recognized you (he absolutely did), you couldn't tell, his piercing gaze looking straight through you before going back to scanning the crowded room. It's not like he'd have any interest in you outside of your now non-existent connection to Gojo. So what if once-upon-a-time you'd all went to college together? If you shared lunches and test answers with him before everything went to shit?
Those two had issues.
The sort that usually got settled in bar fights rather than social media comment sections. You didn't know how it started and Satoru Gojo refused to ever share, but the competition between him and your former friend hadn't died years after you all graduated, it seemed. They went into the same industry post-college, worked at competing companies, a rivalry both refused to put an end to long after they stopped playing the same sport.
Gojo kept you out of it though, but you guessed he'd been keeping you out of everything lately too.
You were painfully aware of how not-drunk you were, the buzz not even there, the warmth in your chest feeling more like a fever than a pleasant fuzz. You nudged your still unfinished drink forward, starting to consider this as just another terrible idea to wrap up a terrible day, about to push up off the counter to stand when you felt the pressure shift, the weight of someone's presence lingering behind you suddenly choking the air out of your lungs when you glanced back over your shoulder just for him to practically tower over you.
"Your boyfriend know you're out here drinking alone?" Sukuna scoffed, his disgust dripping down at you. His muscled arms were folded across his chest, veins bulging against his smooth skin, a tight scowl on his lips.
"He's not my boyfriend anymore, so if you want to be an asshole, go bother someone else," You returned his glare, shrugging your purse higher up over your shoulder.
"Yeah? You finally dumped that loser?" He actually laughed. "Or is he even dumber than I thought?"
You weren't about to answer and throw the last scraps of your dignity in the trash to explain to Sukuna that you just got your heart crushed via text.
But your silence was enough to clue him in anyway.
"No fucking way," He chuckled again, low and gruff, the warm overhead lights of the bar casting an amused glint in his eyes as his lips curled up in an almost cruel smirk.
"Shut up," You grumbled, sliding off your barstool to stand up, wobbling a little in your too-high heels just for one of his annoyingly strong arms to steady you.
"Poor princess," He teased, mocking your pout, a hand planted on your waist to pull you in. But there was a low vibration to his voice, almost a purr, like he was flirting with you.
Which was absurd.
Ever since you started dating Gojo, he'd been nothing but nasty. Snide comments about your awful taste and remarks about how long it'd take before you realized what an idiot you were. Each jab only fracturing your friendship more, the distance digging itself deeper in the years after school. It'd gotten annoying enough that you'd stopped talking to him entirely a couple years ago after Gojo kept pestering you about answering his texts. Although, you couldn't exactly say Sukuna missed the mark now.
"So you're finally done with him?" He murmured, leaning in enough for his warm breath to send a shudder down your spine.
You could feel the blush burning under your cheeks, but the real warmth was pooling elsewhere. You shifted on instinct, pressing your thighs a little tighter together.
And okay, it had been a while since the last time you had sex. Your bed was probably as cold as the rest of your relationship. But the more you tried to convince yourself that was why he was having such an effect on you, the less you were sure.
"Guess I'm just too clingy for him to handle," You shrugged, feeling a little pathetic even as you excused it. Too needy just for needing him to act like your stupid fucking boyfriend and put you first for once.
"And what'd I tell you years ago?" Sukuna hummed, and you didn't need to look over your shoulder to know he was rolling his eyes.
"Don't be a dick," You scolded, stepping away and towards the exit.
"Don't act like you didn't miss me," He scoffed back, his shadow sticking to you like a second skin, his thumb dragging over the outline of your panties barely visible under your dress.
"I didn't," You bluffed.
"Liar."
"If you try to say I told you so again, I swear to God-" You started to threaten, scowling at him before his lips landed on yours to interrupt.
He was a few years too late.
His possessive grip shifting around to your ass, cupping and squeezing like no one else was around - although, no one was even looking, and you were pulling away with your mouth still hanging open.
"You're just as bad as him," You mumbled, wiping the corner of your mouth and slipping out of his grasp to hurry out the front door.
So what if he was right?
You had missed him. But he wasn't any different than Gojo. Both self-absorbed and self-obsessed. And maybe you had feelings for him way back when, before he'd let someone else sweep you off your feet, but you knew this was just some petty ploy to get back at Gojo. Fucking you to fuck him over.
Your body was betraying you though - the taste of bourbon on his lips and the heat of his hands on your body tempting you to let him. An annoying little voice suggesting you should fuck him, take a photo splayed out in his sheets and unblock Gojo's number just to send it.
He followed you outside, grabbing your wrist almost gently before spinning you around.
"C'mere," Sukuna sighed, his scowl softening for a second when you paused.
"What do you want from me?" You huffed, trying to stand tall, not shrink back under his searing stare.
"Everything," He answered easily, broad shoulders shrugging up. You scoffed right when he started talking again. "But I'll start with you in my bed first."
"Why?" You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess, you just wanna rub it in his face that you fucked me too?"
Sukuna clenched his jaw, the thick tendons in his throat flexing as he swallowed.
"I want you," He echoed, stepping forward to cage you in, backed up to a car you still recognized as his. Your heart skipped a beat, the nerves in your stomach twisting and curling at how close he was. How many times has you dreamed of him being inches away from you like this? Or reminisced on the days where he'd drive you around with one of those veiny hands on your thigh? "And I think you always wanted me too."
"Yeah?" You sarcastically shot back, like your pulse wasn't pounding in your ears, eyes flicking back down to the lips you used to long for.
He hadn't been interested in you then, so you moved on with the pretty blue-eyed boy who was, even if you regretted all of it now.
But why should you let Gojo dictate what or who you did anymore?
"Yeah," He grunted.
This was wrong and he was unfortunately so right but you kissed him before you could keep lying to yourself. Pulling him down to your level by his shoulders and letting his tongue slip between your lips to explore your mouth.
"Admit it," He murmured before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, your back pressed against his car. The sharp edges of his canines nipping at the spot you'd already been chewing on all night, a massive hand sliding up under your dress to ghost over your thigh, the foreign feeling of his calloused palm making you shiver.
You didn't answer him though - couldn't formulate the words to fit the feeling sitting heavy on your chest, trailing messy kisses down across his jaw to his throat. You let your own teeth scrape the tendon there, press your tongue against the pulse as you sucked a little spot just to see how much he'd tolerate from you.
A lot, considering he let you leave a handful of hickies before his jaw tensed again.
His free hand grabbed your chin between his thumb and his fingers to stop you, tilting your head up to meet his intense stare. You could sense the demand waiting on his tongue, wanting to ask more of you than you could give.
So you interrupted him this time.
"Do you want me in your bed or not?"
He was bending you over the edge of it half an hour later, ripping your panties down your thighs and prying them apart with greedy hands. Thick fingers dimpling the pliant muscles and soft skin, skimming over every inch. Impatiently tugging the zipper down your dress and readjusting you to toss it to the floor until you were stripped bare in his sheets.
"He didn't deserve you," Sukuna murmured, pausing as he traced over the curve of your ass like he was actually admiring it. "This."
Deserved was a word that had never felt comfortable in your mouth. Not when you'd heard it directed your way a thousand times before, from people who thought you never deserved Gojo.
What difference did it make it was already over?
Who dumped who and how things ended didn't change the fact your heart was the one that'd gotten crushed in the aftermath.
"Can we not talk about him?" You huffed, glancing back over your shoulder and swallowing hard at what you saw there.
Sukuna's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes dark, pupils blown with lust (although the low moonlight streaming in from his window could've tricked you it was love) as he just stared at you.
You pushed your bottom lip out in a pout, flipping over onto your back and starting to sit up. But he didn't move a muscle, even if his eyes followed every minute movement.
Watching the bounce of your breasts and the way you tucked your hair out of your face while you grabbed his wrists and tugged him closer.
"You've got me where you want me," You reminded him, tilting your head to the side. "So what are you going to do about it?"
You'd forgotten how fast Sukuna could move - one second standing still in front of you, and the next he was on the bed, dragging you up with him until he was the one on his back and you were straddling his lap.
He was still clothed, but you could feel the hard bulge throbbing through his dark jeans, face flushing at the thought it was because of you.
Sukuna's hands squeezed your hips, dragging his stare over your body one more time before he pulled you up higher, a surprised little squeak escaping as he settled you over his mouth and held you down there. His breath was cool against your exposed entrance, your own mouth falling open and about to protest before he spoke up.
"Shoulda done this years ago," He murmured, his tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe over your slick slit, tracing up to wrap his mouth over your aching bundle of nerves, another strangled noise ripped from your mouth at the sudden contact.
"Wh-why didn't you?" You choked out, trembling as he sucked harshly at the bud, barely giving you time to adjust as he licked and lapped at your clit. Your hand shot out to tangle your fingers in his hair, roughly tugging at his roots right as his own hands yanked you even closer to the warmth of his mouth.
He laughed, but it was more like a small huff, his breath alone making you shudder.
"Guess I thought I had time," Sukuna drawled, the edge of his nails starting to dig into your hip, but there's was something intoxicating about the way the pain heightened the pleasure as his tongue returning to drawing messy circles and tantalizing patterns of someone who was clearly practiced at it.
You hated yourself for hating that.
As if you had any right to be jealous or insecure when before tonight it'd been what? Two years since you'd last seen him? Three?
While someone he hated had easy access to every inch of you?
His tongue pushed in, pressing flat and dragging his taste buds inside like he wanted to properly explore you. You whined as he swirled it around, savoring all of you.
He moaned, pulling you in impossibly closer while your thighs started to shake, biting down on your bottom lip to muffle the whimper that wanted to leave.
"O-oh," You murmured, barely catching your breath, the air getting stuck in your throat every time you tried to exhale as he prodded deeper.
He didn't reply, too busy planting open-mouthed kisses against your cunt, diving his tongue in-and-out, picking up the pace just to slow down once he felt you start to stiffen, your grip tighten on his hair as you grinded down on his face.
Forgetting to breathe, lips damp and glossy-eyed as he returned his skilled mouth to your sore and swollen clit, like he'd be content suffocating as long as it was under you.
You were so close it hurt.
Burning with the desperation, your muscles starting to tense in the build-up, the pressure stretching your already hazy mind too-thin. You wanted to focus on him, focus on the way his tongue rolled back over your clit, how one of his hands had snuck around to cup your ass, squeezing right as he sucked hard on your aching bud.
It was his teeth that did you in.
One careful nip. Just barely grazing over, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you snap, bent too far to do anything except break in his hands, crying his name out when you came for him.
"Kuna, fuck fuck fuck," You whimpered, lips staying parted while you tried to suck in enough air to fill your lungs while the pleasure crashed around you.
But he didn't stop, working you until you felt like putty, legs still trembling when he tossed you onto your back, the soft mattress sinking around you as he hurried to rip his shirt up over his head. Fumbling for his zipper and tugging it down before groaning as he stood up, struggling to get his jeans down past his erection.
Sliding his boxers down just for his cock to spring back up, red and leaking already, so hard it had to be painful. Palming it with a few desperate strokes as he glanced around looking for something.
"Fucking hell," He muttered, letting go to walk over to his nightstand and rummage through the drawer for a condom. "Sorry, shit, been a while for me."
"It's um, kinda been a while for me too," You admitted in a breathless stammer when you finally pulled yourself back together, watching him sheath his cock inside the condom and thinking he was putting a lot of fucking faith in its ability to stretch around him.
Sukuna glanced up, brows furrowed like he didn't quite believe what he heard.
"Seriously?"
"He's busy," You excused. Or was. You weren't used to thinking of him in the past-tense yet.
You knew what Sukuna was thinking.
That Gojo was probably busy fucking someone else if he didn't have time for you. You'd considered it a few times yourself. Despite how often he stayed over at yours, he'd never gotten rid of his old apartment, kept his own place bringing up rings and marriage without ever mentioning moving in. Had driven yourself the kind of crazy to the point of checking his phone while he showered, waited by the door for him to return home, sniffing his collar to see if it'd reek of perfume, if it'd have lipstick stains.
But you never found any proof.
Would never know either way now.
For all you knew, he could already have his tongue down some other woman's throat. Maybe he hadn't cheated on you. Maybe he was waiting for the excuse to break things off without feeling like the bad guy so he could move on.
Things hadn't been going well for a while.
You just couldn't convince yourself you were okay pretending everything was fine for an entire lifetime.
"You were wasted on him," Sukuna murmured, climbing back on the bed over you, sliding his hands over your body again, slower this time. Dragging his warm palms over your thighs, tracing the faint scratches he left on your hip and skimming over your waist until he cupped your breasts.
Tracing over your peaked nipples, rolling them between his fingers before leaning over to plant a kiss against one, dragging his tongue over it and testing how it felt to scrape his teeth across it too.
His kisses continued up your sternum to your collarbone, trailing a delicate line over the tendons of your throat to your jaw. Making his way along your body like it was a point he was proving.
"The least he could've done was worship you," Sukuna dryly muttered under his breath, a hardly disguised hint of anger lingering under the surface, the heat of his palms seeping though your skin as he finally cupped your cheeks.
"You think you could've done better?" You huffed, but your voice was too small, too nervous when his stare was so intense, his focus entirely on your face.
You didn't think so. Not really.
He might've remembered it differently.
You never forgot.
All the times he'd been cold or dismissive. All the moments he'd caught your stare and turned his head. All the seconds you spent in his arms just to be the girl he only ever claimed as a friend.
"I don't know," He confessed, a tiny glint of regret reflecting back at you in his somber stare. "But I could now."
You were so swept up in whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean to pay attention to him lining himself up with your entrance.
Then his mouth was back on yours, covering up your needy moan for more when he slipped the his swollen tip in, your tired thighs shifting to make space for him.
He tilted your chin back to deepen the kiss, like it'd distract you from the biiiig stretch of inch after inch of him, itching for all he had to give you. You were wrapping your arms around his back, holding onto his shoulder blades, tempted to leave long scratches just because you knew he'd let you.
So that he'd feel the sting in the shower and think of you in the morning after you left. Would feel it when he tossed and turned at night, when he pulled a shirt back on.
Possessive and petty and probably terrible, but you wanted to take a photo, frame it and post it to the apartment you guessed Gojo would be going home to tonight.
The tattoos alone would tell him whose place you ended up at.
You tested the skin, running the edges of your nail lightly over his shoulders, eliciting a shiver that had his head dipping down into the crook of your collarbone, groaning as he froze halfway in. Stuttering to a stop, sucking softly on your neck like you wouldn't notice he needed to compose himself so he wouldn't cum early.
"You okay?" You teased, tracing a star over his muscles as he grunted his reassurance.
"Jus' fine," He grumbled.
You weren't sure who he was trying to prove it to by bottoming out, your nails actually scratching him this time when you almost jolted, gasping as the force pushed you up on his bed. He yanked you back down, his cock forced deeper as you made a sound that was more like a mewl than anything else.
"Make that noise again," He hummed, although it seemed like a demand when his eyes were practically piercing through you, brows drawn together in concentration, spearing into you the same way and holding you in place like he could recreate it.
"It, fuck, wasn't on purpose," You murmured, eyes staring to glaze over, tears pricking at the corner, starting to get overwhelmed by the constant plunge of his cock. Muscles squeezing tighter and beginning to spasm around him, body begging for more despite how sensitive you still were.
His hips smacked harder into your skin, the bed starting to creak and whine under the weight and force of each thrust, but it was his stare that was making it hard for you to focus.
"K-Kuna," You protested, lip jutting out in a pout as you clawed at his back. "Stop staring."
"Can't," His voice was gravelly, rough as he barked out the single word.
"Why not?" You whined, loathing the soft plea it came out as when his cock was pretty much lodged in your throat.
"I like looking at you."
It wasn't the answer you expected. But that was how it went with him, you guessed.
He never said what you thought he would.
You could feel a few pricks of panic start to set in, that uncomfortable heavy weight returning to suffocate your heart at the apparent sincerity despite his gruff tone, his low pitch.
"I wanna be on top," You muttered, interrupting the moment.
He chuckled, pausing mid-thrust to raise an eyebrow.
"Now?" He asked.
"Flip over," You insisted, and he obliged.
Pulling out with a little shake of his head, laying his head back on the pillow and letting you sit up on your still unsteady legs, watching you like he didn't think you'd be able to manage it.
You flipped around so you didn't have to face him or his scrutiny, adjusting until you were slowly sinking back down, bracing yourself for the new angle.
His hands returned to your hips, letting you take the lead until you were almost halfway down, thighs shaking harder with every consecutive inch.
"Need some help?" He taunted, running his thumb over your skin in slow semi-circles.
"S-shut up," You gritted your teeth, steeling yourself to take the last few inches, already feeling too full to fit anymore from this position.
He started to laugh again, a soft sound that made the knots in your stomach pull and tug, and you dropped all the way down just to shut him up.
The deep groan you tore from him only fueled the flames of satisfaction, soothed the burn from the stretch. But his hands were suddenly no longer just accessories adorning your skin, roughly guiding you up-and-down to bounce on his lap, splitting you open until you were making noises just as loud as him.
Muscles aching for relief, thighs trembling and shaking with each thrust upwards, his cock pressing kisses to your cervix every time he speared it deeper.
"Kuna, I-" You started, shutting yourself up before you could stutter and stammer through half-incoherent nonsense.
You couldn't form sentences anymore. Eyes going glassy as you scrunched them shut, grabbing onto one of his sturdy thighs to hold yourself up.
"Nod if you need me to take over," He murmured, soft and serious, no hint of his usual condescension.
You shakily nodded, a small whimper escaping as he suddenly picked you up and placed you on your stomach, lining himself back up and slipping back inside with ease as he left another path of kisses over your back.
"That's it," His low purr was filled with gravel, his tone rough but relaxing all the same.
One of his massive hands slipping underneath your front to feel for your clit while his cock throbbing inside you. He was close, probably only holding off to make sure you finished a second time before his first.
Rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers this time right as he angled himself to find the soft spot had you almost drooling onto his bed, thankful the comforter muffled your needy moans when he pinched and pushed you over the edge.
Snapping as your body betrayed you by making a strangled sound that barely even resembled his name, melting into the mattress when he finished too. Letting his teeth sink into your skin and mark you as his while he groaned your name back.
You hadn't even realized a few stray tears had started to leave makeup streaked trails down your cheeks until you went to lift your head and noticed the dark smears on his white bedspread.
Sukuna started to pull out, the weight lifting from off your back before he froze.
"Shit." His tone was off. Crossed between concern and surprise.
"What?" You huffed, straining to force your exhausted body to shift as you twisted from his hold to glance over your shoulder.
"The condom broke."
"The fuck are you doing here?"
Really, what the fuck was Gojo doing here?
"Don't think it's your business," Sukuna snarled. He dragged his attention down from the stuck-up pout and icy blue eyes down to the big bouquet of flowers in one hand to the bag of takeout in the other, a key pinched between his fingers like he was getting ready to unlock your front door.
You had scribbled your address down on a receipt you'd found in his room the morning after when you left, throwing on your dress before he insisted you throw on one of his sweaters too. Saying you should get a plan b since the condom breaking hadn't exactly stopped you from having a second round.
Told him he should come over sometime. If he was interested.
So he did.
A week later than he planned, stuck wrapping up work issues so he'd be able to devote his free time entirely to you.
But he hadn't expected you to have company.
Or maybe intruder was a better word for the white-haired idiot in front of him.
"Of course it is," Gojo huffed.
It was easy to piss him off when it came to you. To reduce him into the sort of blind seething rage that usually ended in shoves or punches.
"Last time I checked, you lost boyfriend privileges," Sukuna smugly reminded him, a cruel smirk on his lips.
"Last time I checked, she wasn't speaking to you," Gojo snarled back, a few stray petals falling off the flowers as his hands clenched tighter around the plastic-wrapped stems.
"Yeah? I mean, would you consider moaning my name speaking?" Sukuna sarcastically replied, watching his rival's already pasty face grow whiter the moment his taunt set in.
"You're lying," Gojo breathed.
He could pull down the collar of his shirt, rub in the bite marks and hickies still staining his skin. But he settled on slipping his phone out of his pocket, showing off the photo of your pretty face asleep on his pillow instead.
"Can see why you tried to keep her all to yourself," He dryly mocked, wondering if Gojo recalled the time he once said the same words to Sukuna. His arm had been slung around yours at some stupid party, hoping to provoke Sukuna into hitting him again, like he was dumb enough to risk getting his scholarship revoked after he almost got suspended from their first real fight.
Gojo steeled his face, his usually expressive eyes freezing over to something icy and cold. Skin stretched thin over the bones of his knuckles as his hands instinctively formed fists.
"The face she makes when she cums is just so cute, right?" Sukuna hm-ed, drawing it out and watching Gojo's mouth twitch into a deeper frown.
"Hope you enjoyed it," Gojo scoffed. "Not like you'll get to see it again."
Sukuna wondered what it was like. To be so stupid and so overconfident. And yet, Gojo always somehow weaseled his way into getting whatever he wanted. Even you.
"That's up to her," Sukuna grunted back.
You wouldn't go back to Gojo. Couldn't.
Sukuna had waited years for you.
One night couldn't be all he had to show for it.
"I'm her boyfriend, so-"
"Ex," Sukuna corrected him.
"We're back together," Gojo almost spat at him, shoulders stiff as he took a step closer. To block Sukuna from the door rather than a sheer intimidation tactic. The latter wouldn't have worked anyway. "We were just on a break."
Sukuna briefly considered breaking his nose.
An assault charge was nothing he couldn't get bailed out of. Although, he'd rather not give Gojo another excuse to play the victim and run crying to you so you could kiss his fucking boo boos better.
"Does she know that?"
"Why else would I be here?" Gojo scoffed.
Sukuna didn't want to believe him. Didn't want to think you'd ever be the type to accept the bullshit he threw at you.
But he'd heard the hurt in your voice before. Seen it in your eyes, the way you shied away sometimes, self-conscious.
It wasn't that inconceivable.
You had belonged to Gojo longer than you'd ever been his in any capacity. It wasn't like Sukuna ever held your heart.
You'd offered it once, held it out and hinted at wanting him to have it, but he'd let Gojo steal it instead. Convinced that you'd see Sukuna was the better option, that you'd dump that prick and show up at his door one day.
He was a fool then. Probably now too for thinking you'd choose him this time.
What was that stupid saying from Jurassic Park?
Life finds a way?
Apparently a broken condom and a failed plan b was still proving that point years later.
You still hadn't believed the four positive tests on the bathroom counter, the swollen breasts and morning sickness you'd been doing your best to ignore until you finally forced yourself to make an actual appointment, choking out the reason over the phone.
It wasn't until you saw the blob on ultrasound that it set in.
Wasn't until they told you how far along you were that you realized whose it was.
It would be one thing if it was Gojo's. He was an asshole, but you knew what you were getting with him at least. He'd been trying to get back together anyway. Leaving gifts at your door after you changed the locks and slipping apology letters through the crack when he noticed you blocked his number. He'd probably propose, make promises about being a real family that he might even attempt to keep. But it wasn't his.
It was Sukuna's.
You had no idea how he would take it when you told him.
If you could even tell him.
The number you used to have for him didn't work. You waited for him outside his apartment one night, but he didn't come home. The longer you stood there, tapping your foot like an idiot for someone who had no idea you were even there, the worse you felt about your whole, uh, situation.
Still, it was what lead you to standing in front of his work on your lunch break, studying the tall building front, shielding your eyes from the almost blinding glare of the sun reflected in the windows.
The last time you were here had been one of the last times you spoke to him. Well, before he put a fucking baby in you.
But that had been back when he had just quit his job to start his own company up, getting a grand tour of the then empty office building. Gojo had insisted on tagging along, so of course, it ended with the two of them bickering so much you practically had to drag your then-boyfriend out of the building.
It was bustling now, people cramming in the elevators probably in a rush to clock in from their own lunch breaks. You had to wait for another one to come down, barely avoiding getting elbowed by employees bumping into you while you pressed the button for the top floor.
By the time you actually reached it though, the rest of the elevator was empty. The hallway it opened up into was quiet, big windows letting in light as your heels clicked on the linoleum.
All the nerves you'd been shutting down were back, sucking in a sharp breath as you forced yourself forward with every step.
"Do you have an appointment?" She glanced over her computer screen at you, offering a polite smile like she already knew the answer.
"No, but I need to speak with him," You tried to return her smile, to force yourself to not sound nearly as stressed as you felt.
"Sorry, but you need an appointment," She insisted, head cocked to the side.
"I'm sorry, but I know him, and-"
"You could set it up over email, or put in a request-"
"Listen, considering I'm carrying his child, I would really appreciate it if you told him I was here," You gritted your teeth, unable to keep the sharp edge from your voice as you snapped at her interruption.
It was bad enough you felt like a fucking stalker showing up like this, but what the hell were you supposed to do?
Wait outside the building like a creep for him to get off?
"I wasn't aware he had a partner," His assistant cooly said, eyes flitting down to your stomach. Even if you were showing, you doubted she'd believe you.
A more rational part of you understood.
There probably wasn't a page in the employee handbook for what to do when someone shows up saying your boss knocked them up.
"Could you please just call and give him my name and save us both the time and trouble?" You forced a tight-lipped smile, nails digging into the inside of your palms as sweat pricked on the back of your neck.
All you wanted was to get this over with and get the hell home.
You doubted he'd even fucking want it, but you figured you'd do your due diligence so you could at least say you tried.
She sighed, reluctantly picking up the phone and tapping buttons with manicured nails.
"Hi sir," She greeted, frowning as she hesitated over how to inform him. "Someone's here to see you."
It was funny how fast her expression flickered at his response once she finally spit your name out.
And how quickly the door behind her swung open.
You wanted to blame it on the baby hormones when your first thought was Sukuna looked cute.
Brows scrunched together, his usually intimidating squint traded in for something well, stunned, pink lips pushed together as he readjusted the collar of his button-up.
"Come in," He practically barked, his voice scratchy as the door creaked open wider.
You swallowed hard, shrugging your purse up higher on your shoulder and walking around his assistant's desk to follow him inside, feeling his stare studying you the entire time. He shut the door behind you with a soft thud, one of his palms pressing against the small of your back once you were close enough.
"Have you ate already?" He asked, a little awkward if anything. "I could order lunch."
This wasn't a bar or his bed. No drinks in his system and nothing to hide behind.
"I don't plan on staying that long," You muttered, glancing around his rather pristine office. His nearly kept desk and the diploma on the wall, no framed photos or personal touches scattered around.
"Yeah?"
If you weren't completely delusional, he sounded disappointed.
You couldn't tell him that if you ate, you'd probably just throw it back up.
"You changed your number," You said, smoothing out the ends of your dress. Uncomfortable was an understatement. Where to stand, what to say, none of it came naturally.
"Didn't think you still had it," He replied, amusement taking over when his hand drifted around to your side. An arm wrapped around your back to lead you to his side of the desk, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd pull you in his lap or try to bend you over it.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Figured your boyfriend made you delete it," He scowled, his frown returning as he sat in his chair, trying to tug you on top of him. "How's he doing?"
"I wouldn't know," You shrugged, keeping your feet planted in place. "Haven't spoken to him."
His expression shifted to confused, his shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders when he let go of you to fold his arms over his chest.
"I heard you got back together," He clenched his jaw when he spoke, irritation bleeding through his voice.
"From who?" A laugh slipped out.
As if Gojo's pride would be able to handle the fact you fucked his rival less than a few hours post-breakup if he actually found out. As if he'd be happy to play stepdad to the offspring of it either.
"Him."
"And you believed him?" You giggled.
There were plenty of words you'd pick to describe Sukuna. You never would've guessed gullible would be one of them.
Sukuna's face went slack, his palm going to cover his mouth before he buried his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment.
"God," He hissed. "Fuckin' moron."
You couldn't decide if he was referring to himself or Gojo.
"Uh-huh," You stifled another laugh, looking around his office one more time before you felt your stomach flip, a sharp wave of nausea striking you as you forced yourself to swallow the spit pooling in the back of your mouth.
Reminding you why you were really here.
"Look-"
"So you're single?" Sukuna started talking again at the same time, and you could practically feel the atoms hanging in the air between you buzzing.
Tension pulling you in, a hand sneaking it's way up your thigh underneath your skirt. Your breath hitched. Your body wanted to just melt, to give in and sit down and just sleep at the first hint of safety.
But Sukuna wasn't your boyfriend or even your friend anymore, just a stranger whose condom broke while he was buried inside you.
"I mean, yeah," You nodded, not sure how exactly to break the news that you felt like you were bursting with. The ultrasound was sitting heavy in your purse, the proof of a baby he probably wouldn't even want.
The phone rang on his desk.
He let it get to the third ring before he even glanced at it, his eyes narrowing before they shot back up to your face. You recognized the look, the one he used to have when he'd chew on the ends of his pens when he was solving a problem.
"Shit."
He sighed, one of those big ones where he forced all the air out of his chest before he begrudgingly let go of you and answered the phone.
"Yes?" He gritted his teeth, obviously disgruntled at the interruption as he grinded his back molars together. Whatever he heard irritated him more, nodding to himself before he reluctantly opened his mouth to speak again. "Fine. I'll be there."
The clatter of plastic hitting plastic echoed in the empty office as he hung it back up, the coiled cord tangling together in his hurry. You just watched him gather the stuff on his desk, studying his long fingers and flexing tendons on the back of his hands.
"Listen, I have to attend this stupid meeting, but it won't take long. Stay here, or if you have to go, my assistant can give you my new number," Sukuna was already picking up his laptop, tucking it under his arm and starting towards the door, only stopping to squeeze your wrist like he was tempted to take you with him.
His intense eyes flickering away, sucking in a harsh breath. Your chest hurt. Ached with the anticipation that the second you spilled the secret all the softness in his face would harden again.
"Actually, I'll come over ton-"
"I'm pregnant."
reblogs/comments are super appreciated <3 ily guys
mini a/n: check out this amazing fanart for the prequel part of this here eeeek !!
Satoru Gojo is fucking gorgeous, which is so deeply unfair that you’re still kind of processing it as he pays for your movie ticket with trembling fingers. His white hair is slightly tousled, soft against his ears, and his glasses are tilted just a bit on the bridge of his nose. He keeps pushing them up like he’s stalling, trying not to meet your eyes too long because every time he does, he gets flustered. His face goes pink and he laughs too loud. You bite your lip every time he does that.
You’re no better. Your hands are clammy inside the sleeves of your hoodie, because you thought this was going to be a safe little date. Nerdy. Harmless. You met at a fucking Doraemon expo for god’s sake, where he gave you a Doraemon-shaped candy and then looked like he wanted to die from shyness.
And now you’re sitting in a too-dark movie theatre with his knee brushing yours.
You think you’re gonna die too. Because there’s heat pooling between your legs, and you're pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties, and this was supposed to be your first normal date. Not a panty-ruining, thigh-clenching disaster where you keep imagining his stupid hot fingers pulling your hoodie up and touching you like you're not both trembling virgins about to combust from one misplaced touch.
Satoru’s voice cracks in the dark.
“You, uh— are you okay?”
You look at him, wide-eyed. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”
He fidgets. “You’re breathing kinda fast.”
You are. Shit.
“I’m just…” you squirm, thighs pressed tight together. “The seats are uncomfortable.”
He makes a strangled little laugh, eyes darting to the screen and then back to your mouth. You don’t know who moves first, but a second later, your hands are brushing in the popcorn bag and boom— your bodies are pressed together like magnets.
The movie is completely forgotten. You’re both leaning toward each other, breathing the same hot air, and it’s dizzying how close he is. His scent is soft and clean, like soap and sugar and some light cologne that makes your thighs ache. Your lips almost brush before he pulls back, cheeks pink.
“I-I gotta pee,” he blurts. Then winces. “Fuck. Not like— fuck, I didn’t mean it like—”
You stare at him, lips parted.
“…Me too,” you whisper. “Bathroom. I mean.”
So of course, of course, ten minutes later, you’re both in the tiny single-stall bathroom behind the snack bar, the door locked, and you’re pressed against the wall with Satoru’s hands hovering an inch from your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you.
You’re panting.
So is he.
And there’s the faintest bulge pressing against his pants.
“You’re hard,” you whisper, stunned.
Satoru turns bright red. “I didn’t mean to be! I swear I wasn’t thinking anything— well I was thinking but not like— well yes like that but I didn’t expect you to—”
“I’m wet.”
That shuts him up.
He blinks. “Wha— You, wait really?”
You nod furiously. “Soaked. I thought I was dying. You’re, l-like— you’re so hot and tall and your hands are big and I thought—”
He sways toward you like he’s being pulled by gravity.
“You think I’m hot?” he breathes, shocked.
Your voice is barely a whisper. “You’re like—the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“…But I’m a virgin.”
You blink. “You’re a virgin?”
He freezes. “You didn’t know?”
You shake your head. “You’re too confident. And tall. And your voice, like— you talk like you’ve seen shit.”
“I haven’t! I’ve literally never seen anything. I still sleep with a body pillow.”
“Oh my god.”
You both start laughing, but it’s too breathy, too nervous. You’re looking at his lips again.
“I thought you weren’t a virgin,” he admits, voice low now, almost in awe. “You look like— like—”
He waves helplessly at your body. “You’re so pretty. So hot. You look like you’d ruin me.”
“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” you whisper.
“Me either,” he says.
There’s a beat of silent realization.
Then— tentatively— his hands touch your waist. He’s shaking.
“Can I…”
You nod. “Yeah. Please.”
The kiss is terrible. Teeth clashing, noses bumping, your mouths slipping messily before you both pull away with startled laughter. But his face is flushed, and his eyes are glassy, and your thighs are pressed tight together because the way he’s looking at you is not innocent anymore.
“We’re so bad at this,” you whisper.
“I’m gonna die,” he mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m so wet I think my panties are ruined,” you say, like a confession.
He groans. “That’s so hot, please don’t say things like that unless you want me to cum in my pants.”
You both snort, but neither of you moves away.
“Can I… touch you?” he whispers, barely audible.
Your eyes widen, breath catching.
“…Yes. But I don’t— I don’t really know how.”
“Me either,” he whispers. “Let’s be awkward together.”
You reach for his belt, and he lifts your hoodie just enough to see the swell of your tits in your bra. And then you both freeze, panting, staring— because holy fuck this is actually happening.
Two very horny, very confused virgins. In a bathroom. At the movies.
Grinding desperately like you’re learning each other’s bodies in braille.
His hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your fingers tremble at his zipper. And you swear— you swear— when your pussy brushes against his bulge through your panties and tights, he nearly whimpers.
You're both gonna combust.
You’re still half-laughing, half-gasping into his neck, your panties damp and sticking to you like sin, and Satoru’s hard dick is pressed against your inner thigh through his jeans like it hurts. He keeps doing these little shaky inhales, fingers digging into your hoodie at the waist like he needs something to hold onto or he’ll float off the planet.
His glasses are fogged. His cheeks are pink. And when you drag your nose along his jaw just to feel him shiver, he makes the softest noise you’ve ever heard. A tiny, broken sigh— like the kind of sound you might make when someone pets your hair just right.
You feel like you’re on fire.
“You’re really… hard,” you whisper, a little dreamy, dragging your hand down the front of his jeans like you’re curious more than anything else. Because you are. You can feel the length of him, thick and hot under the denim, twitching at just the barest touch of your fingers. “Like… all the way.”
“I know,” he whines, quietly. “It’s been like that since the popcorn scene.”
You giggle. “We didn’t have a popcorn scene.”
“You were licking butter off your fingers.”
“…Oh. Yeah okay, fair.”
You’re still staring at the bulge in his jeans. It’s insane. It’s… kind of intimidating, honestly. But you’re so curious, and he looks like he might actually die from the idea of you wanting to see him like this.
“Can I see it?” you whisper.
His breath catches. His whole body freezes.
“You— my… dick?”
You nod shyly, face burning. “Just once. I just— I wanna know what it looks like.”
He stares at you like you’re a mythical creature. “You really want to see it?”
“…Yeah.”
His fingers are shaking as he fumbles with his zipper.
You don’t look away— not even when he shoves his boxers down and his cock bounces free, flushed and heavy and dripping. You make a noise, something halfway between shock and awe, because holy shit he’s big. Not just big— long, curved a little toward his stomach, thick enough that your mouth goes dry. The tip is glossy and wet, a pretty pink color— a clear bead clinging to the slit like he’s leaking from just grinding on you.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, stunned.
Satoru makes a noise that’s not human. “D-don’t look at it like that.”
“I can’t help it,” you breathe. “It’s pretty.”
His brain shuts down.
“Pretty?” he croaks.
You nod dumbly, staring. “It’s like… glossy. And pink. And it’s twitching.”
He groans. “Don’t say twitching—”
“But it is! It’s like it’s waving at me or something. It looks so needy.”
He grabs the wall behind your head like he might collapse.
“You’re so cute,” you whisper. “You’re really hard just from kissing me.”
“You’re soaking,” he counters, voice hoarse. “You’ve been wet for an hour.”
You whimper a little. “I didn’t even know I could get this wet.”
Satoru groans again and cups himself like it’ll stop him from cumming just from talking to you.
You reach out— slowly— and wrap your fingers around the base.
He jolts, hips stuttering forward into your hand like it’s instinct. His eyes flutter shut and his whole body shudders, like he’s never felt anything like this.
“…You’re so warm,” you whisper. “And thick.”
“I’m gonna cum,” he blurts.
You pause. “Wait, already?”
“I told you,” he gasps, pressing his face into your neck. “It’s your voice— fuck, the way you’re touching me—”
You slide your hand up and watch his cock twitch, leaking over your fingers.
He sobs a little. “Angel, please—”
That makes you freeze.
“…Angel?”
He peeks up at you, embarrassed. “It slipped out.”
You bite your lip, then smile, stroking him again. “I like it.”
“You’re so soft,” he moans. “And your hand’s so small, it doesn’t even fit—”
You squeeze a little tighter. He gasps.
“Tell me when,” you whisper, eyes wide. “I don’t wanna waste it. You’ve been hard for so long.”
“‘When’?” he pants.
“Yeah,” you say, breath catching. “I want to see what your cum looks like too.”
He shatters.
Just like that— hot, thick ropes spill out across your fingers, your hoodie, his shirt. You watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his whole body curls toward yours, hips stuttering, voice cracked and pleading into your shoulder. His cock throbs in your hand like it’s losing its mind. He sounds so helpless, so high and soft when he whimpers your name.
You stare at the mess.
“…Whoa.”
He’s panting against your cheek, totally limp. “That was so embarrassing.”
“It was awesome,” you breathe. “I made you cum.”
“I exploded in ten seconds.”
You stroke his hair. “I think you’re perfect.”
He melts a little into your chest.
“…You wanna see me next?” you whisper.
His head jerks up like a prairie dog.
Satoru’s still shaking.
You can feel it— his breath hot and unsteady on your neck, his heartbeat punching against your ribs where your bodies press together. Satoru Gojo just came all over your hand like some desperate teenager, having a wet dream, and you’re still standing in a movie theater bathroom, soaked to the skin and so turned on it’s getting hard to breathe.
His cum is sticky on your fingers. Warm, it smells faintly like salt and sugar, and he’s still leaning against you like he’s not sure how to stand on his own.
And then—
Your voice, soft and daring, nearly a whisper:
“…You wanna see me next?”
Satoru blinks. Eyes blown wide. Mouth parted, in disbelief.
“…Are you serious?”
You nod.
He looks stunned. “Like… your pussy?”
Your whole face burns.
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, suddenly nervous. “If you want. I mean— I know it’s— kind of a lot, and maybe messy, but I just… I’ve never… shown anyone." You're looking down at the floor before you finish the rest of that sentence... then your eyes are darting back up to his face, blue eyes stargazed in disbelief. “And I want you to see.”
He’s speechless, Satoru is utterly speechless.
You fidget, heart thudding, tugging your hoodie down like it can hide the way your thighs are trembling, how wet you still are under your panties.
“I just thought… since I saw yours…”
His hand flies up, quick. Cupping your face, both of you look into each other's eyes.
“I want to,” he blurts. “I want to so bad I think I’m gonna die.”
You smile, shy and giddy. “Okay. Then… can you take my panties off?”
He gasps.
Like, actually gasps. Clutches his chest. Staggers backward like you hit him with a spell.
“Say that again,” he whispers.
You reach under your hoodie, slowly rolling your leggings down to your thighs, revealing just a sliver of your pale pink cotton panties, soaked straight through. There’s a wet patch over your pussy— obvious, shiny, and dark.
“Take them off,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Please?”
He looks like he might cry.
“Oh my god,” he chokes. “You’re so wet you soaked through. That’s from me? From just— grinding on me?”
You nod, cheeks flushed. “You made me so wet I couldn’t focus on the movie.”
His hands are on your thighs now, huge and hot, trembling a little as he sinks to his knees in front of you like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. His glasses slide down his nose. He pushes them up, eyes fixed on your panties like they’re the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers, “but I wanna learn so bad.”
You’re breathing so fast your legs are shaking.
His fingers slide under the sides of your panties. He hesitates.
“Ready?” he asks, voice so soft.
You nod, in eager anticipation, like when you know you're about to rip a band-aid off. But... in this case, it's your soaked sticky ruined panties.
And he pulls them down.
Slow, slow, slow
The cotton clings to your cunt, like they're almost glued to you, but he gets them off with a firmer tug.
Your cunt glosses in the light.
Dripping. Swollen. Slick as fuck and twitching under his gaze. You clench a little just from the air, the tension, the way he’s looking at you like he just saw an angel squirt holy water.
He moans. Moans.
“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. “Holy shit, you’re soaked. I didn’t know it could do that.”
You giggle nervously. “It doesn’t usually. I think it’s a you thing.”
He gulps, audibly.
His eyes don’t leave your pussy, even as he leans forward, nose almost brushing your thigh.
“Can I… touch you?”
You feel your knees threaten to buckle.
“Yes.” You say with too much enthusiasm than you meant.
His fingers twitch. “I don’t know how.”
You grab his wrist and guide it...
His middle finger barely grazes your folds and you gasp, clenching, hips jumping forward.
“Oh fuck,” he moans. “That was barely anything. You’re shaking.”
“You touched my clit,” you pant. “It’s sensitive.”
His eyes sparkle.
“Oh my god. I love that you know what it’s called.”
You’re breathless, laughing a little. “I’ve read fanfiction. Have you not?”
“I have, but in those they just say ‘your little pearl’ and shit.”
You groan. “That’s not even close.”
He’s looking again, hand hovering like he’s terrified to mess it up.
“Okay, so… this is your clit,” he murmurs, grazing it again, watching how your whole body twitches. “It’s so tiny. But you sound like I electrocuted you when I touched it.”
You whimper, cause he's teasing... He's curious as well and doesn't fucking know how much him petting your clit actually affects you.
“You like that?” he whispers, a bit entranced. Crystalline blue eyes focusing on the sticky strands of your slick connected to his fingertips as they stretch when he rubs and pulls them off your glued pussylips.
“Y-yeah.”
He touches again, a little firmer... slower, really working your clit, the soft squelches audible, he really wants to taste it, the creamy thing webbing his fingers, the thought pounding in his head.. Would you be grossed out if he just shoved his fingers in his mouth right now and got a taste of that sappy cream?
You whimper louder, snapping his attention back from his lewd thoughts.
His voice is shaking. “Can you c-cum like this? Just from me touching you?”
You nod furiously. “If you keep going, Fuck. Please keep going.”
His thumb brushes you now, a bit more confidently.
“You’re dripping,” he mumbles. “It’s getting on my wrist, angel”
Your thighs snap shut, embarrassed.
But you’re so close and he’s still rubbing in slow, shaky circles and whispering your name and watching you like he’s studying for a test he’s gonna fail with honors. Your clit feels like it’s throbbing. You can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop whining.
And then—
“Cum for me,” he whispers, awed. “Please, please pretty girl, I wanna see.”
That makes your cunt clench, his voice the thing that makes you break instantly.
You clam up around nothing, crying out as your pussy gushes over his hand, wet and twitchy, making a fucking mess on his hoodie sleeve. Your knees give out. He catches you instantly, still on his knees, arms full of shaking, panting girl.
You’re sobbing in relief, thighs sticky, pussy still fluttering, and his hands are holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“You’re so amazing,” he breathes. “I can’t believe I made you cum.”
You whimper. “You’re so good. I didn’t think it would feel like that.”
He kisses your thigh.
Then your stomach, and makes his way up and then your lips, just to feel you.
Soft and careful, with utmost devotion and care.
And you melt against him, fucked out and flushed, pressed to his chest.
“…We should do this again,” he mumbles.
“Next time,” you pant, smiling, “I wanna see if you can make me squirt.”
He chokes, on what little air he's breathing.
But you’re still trembling.
Your panties are hanging off one ankle, his cum is drying on your sleeve, and your pussy is throbbing— still fluttering every now and then like your body can’t believe you actually came. You’re slumped against Satoru’s chest, half-limp, while he rubs soft little circles on your lower back like he’s trying to soothe an overstimulated kitten.
Time is passing and neither of you has said anything in the last full minute.
Except him whispering “holy fuck” under his breath every ten seconds like a mantra.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he finally says, voice all hushed reverence. “You came.”
You nod, agreeing lazily. Dazed, and still reeling in the high. “Like… a lot.”
“You squirted.”
“I did not.”
“There was liquid. Splash zone level.”
You slap his chest, giggling, but your thighs twitch. You’re so sensitive you could cry, your clit aches in that perfect, pulsing way that means it wants no more and yet… you’re still soaking wet.
And you feel it. That ache deeper inside you now. Heavy and throbbing. Unused.
Unsatisfied.
You shift against him, face buried in the soft cotton of his shirt, and whisper:
“…Satoru?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to put your fingers in me.”
You feel him freeze. Every muscle goes stiff. His hands still on your back. You feel his dick— hard again— press against your thigh like it heard you first.
“Wha— what.”
You look up at him, breath shaky. “You made me cum from the outside. But I’ve never been touched inside.”
His ears go red.
“I— I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“You won’t.” You take his wrist, place his hand gently against your mound. “I trust you.”
He swallows hard. You begin to guide his fingers between your thighs again, letting him feel how wet you still are. You gasp a little just from the contact— still sensitive, still twitchy.
His voice comes out hoarse. “You’re soaked.”
“Just go slow,” you whisper. “I wanna know what it feels like.”
He moves down again and actually takes his jacket off and spreads it over the tiles beneath you. He's kneeling like it’s instinct now, reverent and worshipful. Like he belongs on the floor for you. He kisses your inner thigh once, sweet and shaky, then stares between your legs like he’s seeing magic.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says.
You nod, open for him by parting your thighs, trembling ever so slightly.
His fingers sliding along your sappy folds, middle finger inching closer to your hole's opening, more slick gathers and pools as it tries to worm its way in.
You gasp at the feeling.. a bit in fear and uncertainty, but he's so gentle, holding you tighter against him.
His finger begins to push in, your tiny hole fighting him, the intrusion. It's nothing like you've ever felt.
Satoru’s breathing stops entirely.
“You’re tight,” he whispers, stunned. “You’re— fuck, you’re so warm, I can feel your pulse.”
You whimper. “Go slow. Just the tip.”
He pushes a little, and you clench involuntarily, sucking him in just a bit.
He moans. Actually moans. Like you’re the one touching him.
“Angel, you’re gripping me.”
You bury your face in your sleeve, whining. “It’s not fair. Your fingers are big.”
He curls his finger just slightly— experimenting— and your entire body jolts.
“Oh— oh fuck!” you cry out.
His eyes go wide. “Was that— was that good?”
“D-do it again,” you pant.
He does. Gentler, carefully pressing just right, and your walls flutter around him so tightly it’s like your body doesn’t know how to handle it.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbles. “You’re sucking me in.”
You grab his wrist. “Try two.”
He stares. “Are you sure?”
“Please, Satoru.”
You’re breathless, begging.
He shivers like it physically affects him.
He slides another finger in— and your pussy stretches around him, tighter than he expected. Your mouth drops open. Your thighs twitch.
“Oh my god,” you gasp.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me— I can’t move,” he moans.
You rock your hips, helping him, whining through your teeth.
It’s deep. It’s thick. He curls again— and you sob, eyes fluttering back.
“There— oh my god there, right there—”
His fingers are hooked now, rubbing that spongey spot deep inside that makes your eyes cross. His thumb finds your clit on instinct, and suddenly you’re wailing, your whole body shaking, your pussy clenching so hard around his fingers he can barely move.
You cum again, messier and needy. Your velvet walls constricting his fingers in waves.
And he watches, awed, wrecked. His other hand supporting you as your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
He doesn’t even pull out.
He just whispers, “You’re so beautiful when you cum.”
And you start crying.
Happy tears. Dumb overwhelmed tears. Because no one’s ever touched you like this, seen you like this, loved your body with nothing but his hands and awe.
He kisses your forehead.
You sniffle. “I want you inside me someday.”
He nods. “Me too.”
“…But I might have to train for it.”
He laughs, breathless. “Me too. My heart can’t take this.”
You null away on his chest for a minute. Exhausted by everything your body's endured tonight, your panties still on the floor, his arms still secured tight around you and he press soft kisses to the top of your head.
Eventually when he slowly eases his fingers out of you, you're relaxed, no longer holding them hostage, it slides out with a flurry of slick gushing out, all what's been welling up and stuffed inside your cunt for the entire time.
He rubs it up and down your pussylips then into your clit one last time before he's bringing his fingers to his lips, and moaning as your flavour hits his tongue. Finally, getting a taste of you and he couldn't be more pleased at the tangy-sweetness of it.
Satoru licks his fingers clean, savouring it and after he's the one reaching for your panties, tugging them back up along with your leggings as he tells you softly to, "Raise your hips for me please, angel. Good girl, just like that." You do, and he secures them back in place, cunt still pulsing. Fresh slick soaking your panties again.
Satoru stands first, all long limbs and easy grace and he reaches down for you next. His hands are warm as he pulls you up from the bathroom floor. His jacket lies there still, a dark wet patch blooming where your cunt had soaked through.
Heat floods your cheeks, you're quick to mumble an apology, eyes glassy with leftover pleasure and sudden shyness.
He just chuckles softly. Bends to snatch the jacket up like it’s nothing. He balls it in one hand and tucks it under his arm.
“Shh, angel. It’s fine.”
He cups your face, thumbs brushing your flushed skin. Then he kisses you slow and deep, tasting like sin and sweetness. “One wash and it’ll be brand new. Don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t tell you he plans to keep it exactly like this. A filthy little souvenir, from tonight.
His fingers lace with yours as he leads you out of the stall. The movie is long forgotten. He keeps you tucked close against his side the whole way through the emptying theater. The night air hits cool when you step outside.
In the car he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. Possessive and gentle.
Later that night you lie in bed, sheets tangled around your legs. Your phone glows in the dark. Heart hammering, you type the silly questions anyway.
you 🩷
so… are we...
dating?
omg omg
am i your girlfriend now?!
His reply comes instantly.
toru 🩵
i knew we were soulmates when you asked to see my dick
aaaand called it "pretty"
ilysm angel omg
You giggle into your pillow, face burning. Your chest feels too full. Tonight was crazy. Wild and messy and perfect.
But now one, no two orgasms later and Satoru Gojo is yours. Officially. The nerd from the Doraemon expo.
You fall asleep smiling stupidly into your pillow, already wondering when you’ll feel his hands on you again.
when he walks, it demands attention. every step filling up the sound, the area, the density around you so you know that he’s coming.
it’s even in the slight shake of the little trinkets adorning your coffee table as he drops in the couch, his heavy arms on either side of the long couch back.
or how small everything looked in his hands, how loud it was when he set something down even if it was meant to be light.
how harsh a slap to your ass felt every time you walked past him.
or when his big hands engulfed your waist no matter what you did.
how his body covered yours if you were even washing the dishes, grabbing your keys, beneath, over, under him and even in the shower.
even his fucking shadow dominated yours.
he was just big. and you loved it.
you loved every aspect of it, when he would be fucking so deep, the low drag of his dick pulling out from inside you till just his tip remained and he slammed back inside of you.
it was mesmerizing how heavy he was everywhere. how he didn’t need to do much barely lifting a finger or flexing a muscle to move you in any position he wanted.
but it was perfect watching him in missionary his long, bulky figure sweaty above you, his arms anchored at the sides of your head.
steady for him and a reminder for you of how fucking strong he was. how he could hold you in a armlock and fuck you how he wanted.
or he could bend you over anywhere, anyhow and take you cause you were his.
you’d imagine that’s your favorite position anything that demonstrated his otherworldly strength. the slight cut off of your airflow turning your moans get lighter and breathy while he fucked you on his lap.
or maybe a full nelson, feeling the stretch of your legs as sukuna forced you past what you thought your limit was, feeling the burn as he huffed only focusing on cumming and not the desperate squirm of your body with the new found angle.
but no.
your favorite position was missionary, missionary since you can wrap your legs around the sturdy expanse of his waist as he pressed back inside of you.
your arms could wrap, and scratch around his back and pull his large frame over to give you another kiss.
but your favorite part was when you’d press your hand firmly in the middle of his large back, catching him off guard and pressing all 280 pounds of muscle in top of you until you felt your chest constrict.
some might assume you’re a masochist, torturing yourself like this, feeling your body fight underneath your boyfriends as you chased your orgasm.
or maybe feeling the dark tingle in your lower abdomen as he nipped at your neck, eyes slightly wider than usual watching you heave below him but not wanting to stop.
and how hard it was you came when he finally accepted his fate and lessened the weight in his arms to lie fully on you, hearing the breathless gasp escape out your mouth while you scratch and cum helplessly under him.
but even regular life wasn’t much better.
sukuna could chalk it up to a kink, a sick desire you had or a underlying urge to be close to him.
but he couldn’t understand this.
on the train you’d always push to get on the crowded one, even with another a few minutes begin.
insisting that you stood at the door and he covered you, and every single time without fail he crushes you.
his hard body swinging from the influx of people or the harsh curve of the train, pressing you further and further to the door. and it’s not like you would move away, or that you could.
but he would observe your gleaming eyes, the tight hold you’d have on his dress shirt and the bite of your lips as you finally took a deep shaky breath when he would finally get to back an inch away.
though he was also concerned when it was time to sleep.
“c’monnnn kuna” you’d whine spread like a starfish out on your bed while he you watched your shirtless boyfriend at the end of the bed.
whose arms were folded, his eyebrows scrunched as he watched you almost scared.
“this is concerning even for you.”
“please baby, i’m always on top of you anyways.”
“no.”
“no?”
“no.”
yet and still he found himself, not even ten minutes later, laid out on top of you his heavy chest crushing yours again as you hummed underneath him pleased.
“there is no way you’re comfortable under there”, his muffled voice answered as you basically purred, rubbing his back.
“very.”
“and no way you can breathe.”
“gotten used to it.”
you’re unreal. but still he couldn’t be too bothered watching your light breathes when he turned with his bed head and see the small smile splayed out in your face.
and you?
this wouldn’t the last time you’d want sukuna’s full weight.
you’re well aware that your relationship with satoru isn’t exactly normal. people seem to think you have no clue, but you’ve never been ignorant. for all the casual jokes and whining clinginess, you can tell your boyfriend is deeply, possessively in love with you.
it shows in everything he does. satoru likes to hide it behind a veneer of playfulness. you don’t mind. in all reality, you find it pretty cute—the doting, the teasing, the silly jokes that all veil that intense want that lurks in him. he wants you so bad it’s impossible to ignore. no, more than that: he needs you so much it bleeds into everything he does.
he’s teasing when he winds an arm around your waist, joking when he drops his chin on your head and pulls you away from whoever you were talking to. there’s a casual, unspoken jealousy to the action, but he’s so good at pretending it’s just gojo being clingy. it’s just what everyone expects of him. you’re the only one that knows better. you can see the angry glint in his eye, hear the way satoru’s heart picks up in his chest every time you reciprocate. you’re the only one he lets past infinity, the reason he’s been working to make it cover you as well. he just can’t bear to see other people touching you—you don’t blame him, do you?
best of all, you’re the only one that sees him desperate, that gets to watch him unwind. he worships you. you don’t have sex as much as you make love, his hands roving your body and plucking sweet moans from between your lips. satoru will murmur as he takes you, voice unbearably vulnerable and unspeakably intimate. “no one else can make you feel like this, baby,” he says on a moan. on the next, quiet and sure, “even better, i’m the only one that gets to see you like this. they don’t even know what they’re missing out on. i won’t let them ever find out.” he holds you tightly, kisses you ardently, and if you let him, he’ll fuck you until his legs give out. until he has no more love left to give.
so maybe you’re a little too encouraging. so what? who cares if you let your gaze linger on another man just to watch satoru’s eyes sharpen? what does it matter if you’ll play ignorant to another man’s advances, just to revel in the way satoru steps in and stakes his territory?
sex like that is even better. satoru gets mad, possessive—not at you, never at you. but your entire body becomes a canvas for him to stake his claim on, and it makes him rough. he’ll grip you until you bruise, kiss you until your lip splits, fuck you deep and hard so that you wake up the next morning sore, just so he can dote on you all over again.
“he’s so needy,” utahime complains to you one day, after he’d dragged you home from an event. he’d claimed he just wanted you all to himself for a moment, to get away from such boring company. it’s more honest than everyone suspects. he really does hate to see you talking to other people. “he wants to leave, and you leave. he hates when you talk to other guys. i swear, whenever you’re not paying attention to him, it’s like the sun’s frozen over. and then he has to act up until you’re looking at him again. how can you handle a guy that clingy?”
“i think it’s cute,” you reply. “i like how much he likes me. makes me feel like i’m the only girl in the world, you know?”
utahime snorts. “he sure seems to think so. remember last week? it’s like he didn’t even realise that girl was flirting with him.”
he hadn’t. or maybe he had, and satoru simply revels in your jealousy as much as you do his. you’d attached yourself to him like a limpet, fingers curling around his bicep as your head leant against his shoulder. you were polite to a fault until you chased her off, so clingy that satoru couldn’t tear his eyes away. in the end, he’d barely said three words to the girl before you monopolised all of his attention. he’d grinned wide and proud, and been twice as clingy as you were thereafter.
(when you got home, well. you’d been on top, riding him to a slow climax while he stared up at you worshipfully. his thumbs rub circles into your thighs, and with every rock of your hips, he lets loose an unabashed groan. he’s so free in his pleasure, so open about how good you make him feel. satoru never lets you doubt how perfect you are for him.
he comes first, for once. heaves and whines into your mouth even as he tells you to keep going, tells you that i’m sorry i want you so bad, baby. that doesn’t mean you need to stop—take me for all i’ve got, kay? he whispers those promises until you follow him over the edge, curled on top of him and breathing deep against his collarbone.
“you’ll never leave me, will you?” he asks, except he doesn’t say it like a question. he says it like a vow.
“never,” you promise. “you’d be dead before i let you get rid of me.”)
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else ✦ frat!kuna fwb ✦ ongoing series
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ only. nsfw. angst. FAMILY DRAMA. a wholeeeeeee lot of plot. fwb. slight degradation. dumbification. sukuna’s thick happy trail. SEXTING. phone sex. dacryphilia. toxic frat culture. sukuna has ANGER issues. crying. toxic co-dependency. TRAUMA. domestic abuse. child abuse. depression. anxiety. wc: 22.6k
series masterlist ✮ previous chp ✮ next chp (coming soon)
the buzzing in sukuna’s ear was deafening.
all the blood in his body felt like it was burning through his skin. anger pounding behind his eyes as they stare at the red hand print on his little brother’s cheek.
the band on stage continues playing, a backdrop of chaos and cheering, all while sukuna stands completely still backstage. his heart pounds against his chest, cracking his ribs with boiling rage. the sweat builds on his face, and he slowly drags a finger towards kaori.
“…did you fucking touch my brother?”
choso, eyes rimmed red and glossy, glances up quickly at the familiar voice. his pupils grow wide at the sight of sukuna, shaking with rage. and already fallen off the edge…actively losing it.
kaori’s eyes widen in shock, her gaze drops to her hand then to her step-son. she swallows thickly. her short black bob lays flat on her head, a black skirt hugs her waist, as the rest flows, reaching her boney ankles. her formal attire stands out in the sea of casually under dressed teenagers and young adults. and none of it can hide the slight wrinkles around her neck, or the unnerving sensation that shoots through sukuna when she meets his gaze.
“choso said you weren’t here—“
she doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence when sukuna’s suddenly slamming the frail woman into the wall. choso’s eyes widen as sukuna’s frame towers over her with little effort. he ignores how his hand shakes, gripping the collar of her blouse, squeezing. every muscle in his body shifts, tightening his hold on her.
“I asked you a fucking question!” he shouts in her face. unbothered by the sudden looks of people backstage, including ino, who ran into the crowd to call for sukuna when the woman came in.
a few moments earlier….
ino’s standing beside mechamaru, the two watching over choso as he adjusts his guitar for the fourth time that night.
“dude it sounded fine before, now you’re just messing with it,” mechamaru exhales in exasperation.
choso’s brows pinch, “no, this chord is loose.”
“because you keep playing with it.”
“just give me a sec!” choso snaps.
the two boys glance at one another, looking down at their distraught friend. it’s obvious choso’s been on edge since they arrived. but the guy won’t give them a straight answer. instead he keeps fidgeting and messing with his guitar like there’s a fly constantly buzzing in his ear. to make matters worse, ino and mechamaru noticed sukuna coming in with a couple of his friends. last they heard, choso still hasn’t cleared the air with him. is that why he’s on edge?
“got it,” choso finally exhales.
unfortunately, the good news is immediately cut short when choso notices his bandmates looking like they’ve just been shot.
standing behind him is the uncanny woman that looks like a spitting image of their best friend. choso’s heart drops to his ass, and the blood drains from his face in seconds.
“choso.”
the unnerving sound of his name coming from this woman’s lips has a chill running down his spine. his sweat turns cold as he looks up from his seat on the ground, quickly moving to stand up. choso stands at nearly the same height as the tall skinny woma, maybe an inch or so taller.
“mom, how’d you—“
SLAP!
the sound rings so sharp it cuts through the muffled bass bleeding from the stage outside. choso freezes. completely still. his head jerked with the impact, black hair falling into his face as the sting blooms hot across his cheek. for a second, he doesn’t even process what happened. his body locks up as his brain tries to catch up. his eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares somewhere past her shoulder.
ino and mechamaru go dead silent. the two boys stand there like statues, shock written all over their faces as kaori lowers her hand with terrifying calmness. there’s no guilt at all, just that same unreadable expression.
“you lied to me,” she says coldly. the authority in her voice settles instantly, suffocating the space around them.
choso slowly lifts a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she actually hit him. it’s been years— his throat feels tight.
“choso,” she says again, sharper this time. “i’m speaking to you.”
his eyes flick up properly now, confusion and disbelief behind his eyes as he finally looks at her. then instinctively, his gaze darts toward ino and mechamaru.
his jaw clenches.
“can we talk after?” he mutters quickly, voice rougher than normal. “i’m about to go up—”
“no. we’re talking now.”
her fingers wrap around his wrist immediately. it tightens, making choso stiffen as she pulls him toward the farther corner backstage, away from the noise and people passing through, heels clicking.
the second they’re out of earshot, mechamaru’s neck nearly snaps as he whirls toward ino. “why is she here?!” he whisper-shouts.
ino throws his arms up, drumsticks still clutched in one hand. “i don’t know! that was a hard fucking slap too—”
both boys suddenly glance back toward the corner kaori dragged choso to, he’s sitting on a stool as she stands in front of him. and the reality settles ugly in their stomachs. maybe this is exactly why sukuna didn’t want choso around her alone. and neither of them have to voice that realization.
“should we—”
“i don’t want him killing us though—”
“he’ll kill us for sure, but if we call him he probably won’t!” ino cuts in frantically, already moving. “c’mon!”
the two practically trip over themselves rushing out backstage. the second they hit the main crowd, the noise slams into them full force. music shaking the grass, colored lights flashing violently overhead from the strobes attached to the makeshift stage, and bodies shove shoulder-to-shoulder near the elevated stage as another band screams through their set on stage. the battle of the bands was the first huge event kicking off summer break, and the turnout at the rented park is insane and only getting bigger as more people flood in.
finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.
“i honestly don’t know which way he went!” mechamaru yells over the music, shoving past a group near the bar trucks.
“split up!” ino shouts back immediately. “call me if you find him!”
they separate without another word, because somewhere in this packed park is a six-foot-four soccer captain with face tattoos, a terrifying temper, and enough presence to make grown men shut up when he walks into a room, and right now they need him.
eventually, ino spots a familiar head of pink hair through the sea of people. well….two heads.
an almost identical, much smaller version of the man he’s looking for sits perched on sukuna’s shoulders, glow sticks hanging around yuuji’s neck as the eleven-year-old screams along to the music like he’s completely lost his mind. sukuna isn’t much better, one tattooed arm is hooked around yuuji’s leg while he shouts something toward the stage, feral under the flashing lights.
ino nearly cries in relief, “sukuna!”
he starts shoving through people immediately, bumping shoulders and muttering rushed apologies until he finally reaches the college student. his hand grabs the back of sukuna’s plain black tee.
sukuna whips around instantly, ready to shove whoever grabbed him, then stops. “ino—”
“there’s a small problem!” the drummer’s panting, sweat dripping down his temple from sprinting around the park venue. sukuna’s expression shifts immediately. brows pinching sharply as his stomach drops before ino even finishes speaking. he can see it all over the kid’s face.
“choso’s mom is here.”
everything happens at once. yuuji yelps as sukuna grabs him off his shoulders without warning, shoving the younger boy toward gojo’s side. the white-haired man barely catches him properly before sukuna’s already gripping ino hard by the arm.
“where?”
“backstage—she took him—”
“watch him,” sukuna snaps toward gojo and geto, voice suddenly low cutting through the music.
gojo’s grin vanishes instantly. geto’s brows pinch instantly, that tone isn’t new to them. “for sure,” gojo says immediately.
ino doesn’t hesitate. he spins around and starts forcing his way back through the crowd, sukuna right behind him. except “behind” isn’t even the right word, his shoulder slams into strangers hard enough to make them stumble, dark eyes fixed ahead as the noise around him dulls. his pulse pounds violently in his ears with every step, ino’s words looping over and over in his head.
choso’s mom is here. his jaw clenches so hard it hurts. and somewhere deep in his chest— something ugly starts waking up.
present….
“I asked you a fucking question!”
kaori raises a hand to her step-son’s forearm. lips parting as her eyes dart over his hardened expression, his eyes flashing red, every muscle on his body protruding as sweat beads down his forehead.
“are you deaf?—“ he snaps after she takes too long to respond. his head snaps to choso still sitting on the stool. “she hit you?”
choso stands, head dropping and hand covering his face. his heart pounds against his chest.
“choso—“
choso’s clenches his jaw, blood boiling.
“choso—“
“forget about it!” choso snaps.
sukuna suddenly lets go of kaori, taking the single step to uncover choso’s face. his other hand cups his chin, tilting his face up, and it all hits him at once. the tears building behind his brother’s brown eyes, looking away from the older as he bites down on his teeth, and the bright red hand print on his right cheek.
kaori smooths out the front of her wrinkled blouse, eyes cold as ice.
“choso lied to me,” she says flatly, but not to sukuna, she never talks to him, it’s always at him. “he told me the money was for cram school because he was falling behind in his classes and needed it for his finals.” her lip curls faintly as she gestures toward the backstage area and the unruly screaming crowd beyond the curtains. “then i find out it was for this.”
choso tries pulling away from sukuna’s grip, but sukuna’s frozen, completely still as he stares at the red handprint burning against his little brother’s cheek. the heat builds u see his skin, sweat collecting behind his neck.
“spending time with you has rubbed off on him, something I did not want to know.”
that finally makes sukuna’s eyes snap upward, sharp and furious as his gaze cuts to choso instead of her. “how would she know to give you that money?” he asks quietly, that tone is worse than yelling.
choso visibly shrinks, shoulders tightening as he avoids eye contact. “she asked to meet with me,” he mutters, uncomfortable. “and asked if i needed anything.”
sukuna’s jaw flexes hard enough to hurt. “so when I asked you, it was before that?” choso looks away. and that’s all he needs. sukuna’s head whips toward kaori so fast it nearly startles ino beside them. “I’m getting a fucking restraining order on your fucking ass.”
kaori scoffs immediately. “we both know that’s not an option.” she crosses her arms now, anger bleeding through her composed expression. “i’m more concerned about my son going around asking people for money over some ridiculous band competition while struggling in school—”
“choso isn’t struggling with shit!” sukuna barks. “he’s a fucking genius. that’s how he scammed your psycho ass in the first place.”
people nearby are definitely staring now. a few phones are raised before mechamaru immediately starts hissing at people to stop recording while ino frantically waves others back. choso looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.
“are you seriously praising him for lying?” kaori demands.
“to you? fuck yeah.” sukuna steps closer. towering. violent rage practically radiating off him. “actually, i’m disappointed he didn’t ask for more money.”
“ryo—” choso starts weakly, oozing with embarrassment.
“that’s what you get for going behind my back,” sukuna cuts over him, eyes locked onto kaori. “throw all the money you want at him. choso isn’t going anywhere near you.”
“choso,” kaori says again softly, completely ignoring sukuna, that sets him off. choso’s face twists, confusion and guilt and stress all mixing together as he looks between them. “you know i’m just disappointed in your actions,” kaori tells him, voice suddenly gentler in a terrifying way that makes sukuna see red. “you can tell me if you’re having trouble asking your grandfather for things.”
the faux sweetness hits choso like another slap. sukuna sees the hesitation and confusion immediately. choso’s chest tightens, and suddenly sukuna’s moving again.
“stop fucking talking to him like that,” he snarls, voice low and shaking with fury. “jus’ ‘cause he answered your texts doesn’t mean you can suddenly care about him.”
“ry—” choso tries, voice tight.
sukuna doesn’t even hear him.
“you’re outta your fucking mind if you think giving him money is gonna win him over.” sukuna spits at kaori.
“i was helping my son,” kaori fires back immediately.
“your son?” sukuna laughs harshly. “now he’s your son?”
“ryo,” choso says again, louder this time, but sukuna’s blood is roaring too loudly in his ears to listen.
“i didn’t forget the way you fucking treated them,” sukuna steps closer. “some mother leaving bruises on her fucking kid, making him all jumpy. not after the shit you did with me—“
“i said stop!”
the shout cuts through backstage so sharply that even the people shouting over the music nearby go quiet for half a second. sukuna freezes. choso’s chest heaves. his face is bright red now from humiliation and anger. his eyes are glossy with held back tears that only seem to piss him off more.
“I don’t give a shit!” he snaps, voice cracking despite how hard he’s trying to keep it steady.
kaori’s expression shifts quick. “choso—”
“no—” he jerks away before she can touch him again, stumbling closer to sukuna, instinctively. “don’t— don’t touch me.” his breathing is uneven. ino and mechamaru exchange nervous looks from a few feet away. “I don’t fucking care about anything other than playing tonight—that’s it!” choso gestures wildly.
sukuna’s jaw clenches.
“i can handle my own shit,” choso continues, breathing shakily now, attention now on his older brother. “ya don’t have to make a big deal outta something when I didn’t ask for it!”
sukuna’s eyes darken immediately. “the hell you mean by that?”
“i mean i’m not yuuji!” choso explodes. “you don’t have to hover over me every second like i’m two!” a thick ugly silence follows, even choso goes quiet after saying it, but he doesn’t take it back. instead he glances briefly at his older brother, than at his mother, his jaw tightens. “i’ll pay you back the money by the end of summer,” choso snaps, eyes burning now. “so you can be disappointed at me, somewhere else.”
the words hit hard, then choso walks away, angry. truly angry.
sukuna watches his younger brother shove past the backstage clutter, shoulders stiff and fists clenched at his sides and for a split second, the resemblance is almost nauseating. not in appearance — sukuna’s always known choso looked too much like her — but in their temperament. the rage settling ugly beneath his skin until it explodes. sukuna never really noticed how much of himself choso inherited. but kaori notices it immediately, especially when her expression flickers.
choso reaches ino and mechamaru, both immediately crowding him with questions.
“dude are you okay?”
“what the hell was that?”
“did she seriously—”
“i’m fine,” choso cuts sharply. the three fall quiet, choso’s fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar before he looks toward the stage entrance where the current band is finishing up.
“we’re up next,” he says, jaw locked. “and we’re gonna fucking win this.”
ino blinks, then quickly grins. “HELL YEAH,” he shouts, shaking choso’s shoulders.
mechamaru nods quickly beside him, still nervous, but determined all the same. and just like that, the three disappear further backstage toward the stage call area, leaving sukuna alone with kaori.
sukuna’s sharp eyes cut through her, there was no holding back now that choso was gone. his hand snaps back onto her blouse, fingers curling in the fabric until it bunches tight and strains under his grip. he yanks her forward, lifting her just enough that her heels barely touch the ground.
“i’m going to fucking kill you,” he spits. his voice is low, and shaking with controlled rage. it was worse than shouting. “I’ll rip your arm straight out of your body if you—” his grip tightens again, the words weren’t enough to contain what he meant. “—ever lay a finger on him.”
kaori’s breath catches. she’s on her tippy toes now, frozen, sweat gathering at her temple, and for the first time, something in her cracks. this wasn’t another intimidation tactic or performance. it was a real threat from sukuna.
he leans in closer, voice dropping even further, every word precise, already imagining how it would happen. “i won’t even give you a chance to breathe,” his eyes are deep crimson blood, “if you touch them again… i’ll rip you in half before you even know what’s happening.”
and with that, sukuna lets go of kaori, and she stumbles back a step, catching herself with a sharp inhale.
“keep threatening me,” kaori spits, chin lifting even as her voice wavers at the edges. “I don’t take childish boys seriously—“
something in sukuna snaps again. “i’m gonna fucking kill you, you cunt—”
he steps forward, already closing the distance with terrifying quickiness— and then an arm locks around his chest and yanks him backward.
“what the fuck?!” sukuna twists immediately, muscles tensing as he fights the grip, but it holds him steady, pulling him off his line like he weighs nothing. he doesn’t even need to see the face at first, he just knows from the strength alone.
toji.
sukuna digs his heels in, shoulders straining as he tries to wrench free. “get off me,” he snaps, still fighting forward, still locked on kaori like she’s the only thing in the room. but toji doesn’t budge. he just drags him back another step, grounding him with pure force, cutting through the athletes strength with some struggle.
“get a fucking grip!” toji snaps in his ear. he uses every muscle in his body to knock sukuna off his weight again and drag him further away.
sukuna digs his fingers into toji’s forearms, but it’s too late when he’s pushed back to the exit, joining the crowd cheering the current band.
“fuck!” sukuna shouts, receiving a hard shove from toji until he’s completely knocked back. the rage had boiled way over, that toji standing in front of him, just as pissed, then he’s gripping sukuna’s collar, bringing him to his face, fist raised.
“are you fucking seventeen again!” he shouts, the music and chaos around them made everything much calmer than what was actually happening. “I’ll knock your teeth out if you don’t calm down!”
sukuna still struggles—
PUNCH
the hit directly lands on sukuna’s eye, sending him back, but toji keeps him up. fist curling tighter. “you wanna fuck everything for your brothers? do you!”
“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits on toji, just to receive another punch directly in his solar plexes, almost knocking the wind straight out of him.
his breath catches, a few people nearby step away in surprise. the ocean crashes in the distance. toji still grips his shoulder. sukuna is hunched over, catching his breath, back rising and falling like a beast ready to attack. but instead, sukuna aggressively shrugs toji’s hand away.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he repeats under his breath.
toji rubs his face, chest heaving with his own rage.
“woah! what happened!” yuuji shouts over the music, eyes wide as sukuna finds them in the crowd again, toji not far behind.
gojo, geto, megumi, and now nanami, all glance up, all stunned at the bruise slowly forming around sukuna’s eye. sukuna looks furious still, not explosive like before, but still pissed. the anger settling deep. his chest still rises hard under each breath, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.
toji walks a few steps behind him, equally pissed, rubbing at his own face.
“jesus christ,” gojo says first, brows lifting. “did you get jumped?”
“shut the fuck up,” sukuna mutters instantly.
his voice comes rougher than usual, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand standing back beside his brother.
yuuji stares up at him wide-eyed. “did someone hit you?!”
sukuna finally looks at him then. his expression doesn’t soften much, but something in his eyes shifts slightly at the sight of his little brother hovering there, worried out of his mind.
“i’m fine,” sukuna says shortly.
yuuji clearly doesn’t buy it. “your eye’s all swollen.”
“and?” sukuna shoots back, dismissive, though the edge in his tone dulls just a little. “still standing.”
toji scoffs behind him. “barely.”
sukuna cuts him a glare sharp enough to kill. for a second, it looks like sukuna might start yelling again, but then he just exhales hard through his nose and leans his head back instead. the ocean crashes somewhere behind them. music shaking the ground beneath their feet.
geto studies the tension between the two men carefully. “what the hell happened?”
“nothing,” sukuna says immediately. yuuji still lingers beside him, nervous energy practically radiating off him, and sukuna notices immediately.“quit staring at me,” he mutters, finally shoving lightly at yuuji’s shoulder. “i said i’m fine.”
yuuji doesn’t even get the chance to respond before sukuna suddenly grabs him by the waist and lifts him back onto his shoulders like nothing happened. except everyone notices the slight wince that flashes across sukuna’s face. his hand brushes his stomach for half a second, fingers pressing there instinctively before he adjusts yuuji’s legs over his shoulders again.
toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.
“choso is up,” sukuna says instead, voice flat, already looking back toward the stage through the crowd.
yuuji steadies himself, hands gripping the top of sukuna’s head as he tries to lean down to see his brothers bruised eye. “are you sure you’re okay?”
“you ask too many questions,” sukuna mutters. but he keeps one hand locked around yuuji’s calf anyway, secure and steady despite the bruise forming around his eye and the ache spreading through his ribs.
gojo watches the whole thing with raised brows. “wow. tough guy for real.”
“say another word and i’ll knock your teeth out.”
“there he is,” geto sighs. nanami shakes his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitches for barely a second. behind them, toji exhales through his nose, still irritated, but at least sukuna has settled for the time being.
everyone’s attention shifts fully to the stage as choso’s band gets called up. megumi sits on toji’s shoulders, arms loosely resting over his dad’s head as the whole group drifts closer to the center front where the crowd thickens. lights flare across the stage, as the anticipation of the next band rolls through the audience. yuuji immediately lights up the second he spots choso stepping into place.
“CHOSOOOO!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs, bouncing on sukuna’s shoulders. sukuna tightens his grip instinctively, keeping him steady. the motion pulls at his bruised ribs again, but he doesn’t show it beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.
“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”
sukuna exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on the stage. choso stands under the lights now, adjusting his position at the mic, shoulders rolling back shaking off everything that happened earlier. the crowd noise builds around him, voices overlapping, everyone cheering.
gojo cups his hands around his mouth. “YOU GUYS GOT THIS!!”
on stage, choso finally looks up, and for a split second, his eyes find the group in the crowd.
yuuji waves wildly like his life depends on it. “you got this choooo!!!!”
sukuna doesn’t wave, but he holds eye contact with choso for a moment longer than anyone else, steady and sharp. the bruise on his face not visible under the shifting lights.
choso inhales sharply, shaking off the rest of his anxiety. sweat building from the nerves and heat. and then they start.
the first hit of ino’s drums sends the entire crowd shouting with excitement…
sukuna’s chest tightens. the uneasiness weighs on his shoulders as a dark pit quietly stirs awake inside him. though his focus remains ahead, eyes locked on his brother performing their first set, there’s that lingering anger that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
not since he was seventeen, standing by the intersection, red and blue lights flashing across his face, and his dad’s car jammed slightly beneath the truck, completely crushed.
“shit—that’s your dad’s car?” kashimo repeats, as if saying it again will snap sukuna back.
but he’s already moving. his feet stumble off the sidewalk before his mind catches up, shoving straight into the street. his skull is split open by the sirens screaming loudly. ambulances and police cars clogging the street. the headlights blur his vision, only seeing the wreck straight ahead.
“SUKUNA—!” kashimo pushes after him, nearly slipping as he forces his way through the growing crowd. officers notice immediately when the two teenagers duck beneath the tape.
“hey! kid—!” an officer grabs for sukuna’s arm.
sukuna violently shoves him off. “THAT’S MY DAD —!”
his voice sounds unfamiliar to him as it tears straight out of his throat, making the officer stumble back just enough for sukuna to break free and start running the second he sees paramedics dragging someone out from the passenger side.
his stomach drops.
the familiar body is pulled out, and all he sees is his father covered in deep red blood.
blood coats his face, runs down his neck, soaks through the front of his shirt. glass sticks to his skin. bruises already spread dark beneath the flashing lights while firefighters shout over each other around the wreck. controlling the truck from starting a fire. sukuna drops beside his dad so fast it scrapes the skin clean off his knees.
“shit—shit, shit, shit—” his hands shake violently as he looks at all the blood.
one of the paramedics tries pulling him back. “kid, you need to move—”
“dad?” sukuna grabs onto jin’s arm anyway, panic rising so violently inside him it feels like he’ll throw up. “dad, what the fuck—? WHAT THE FUCK?!”
his voice cracks at the end, eyes wide as jin tries to respond but only wheezing comes out. blood covers one of his eyes as he struggles to open them properly. every breath sounds wet and broken.
“r-ry—” his fingers twitch upward weakly, trying to reach him.
and suddenly sukuna can’t fucking breathe, the anger explodes through his chest making him dizzy. “YOU SHOULD’VE STAYED WITH ME!” sukuna shouts, tears burning hot behind his eyes. “WHY DID YOU GO AFTER HER?!”
jin barely seems aware of the wreck around him, or the paramedics putting a mask on him, or the blood soaking through his clothes. instead, his entire focus stays on his eldest son kneeling beside him with bloodshot eyes, and an anger he can’t seem to ease.
“ryo…” he wheezes painfully. “men…” his hand finally reaches sukuna’s hand, smearing blood across his skin.
behind them, paramedics pull another person from the opposite side of the car, alive and walking. kaori stumbles against the police cruiser, hysterical, mascara running down her face. her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused.
“ma’am,” an officer says sharply, catching her arm before she falls again. “have you been drinking tonight?”
another officer immediately steps in beside him after smelling it. kaori starts crying harder, words slurring together into panicked nonsense.
sukuna looks up. then something inside him twists… his father is laying in front of him and she’s standing.
“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits, shoving himself to his feet so fast his knees nearly give out beneath him. jin’s bloodied hand slips from his sleeve, still reaching after him weakly.
“ryomen…”
but sukuna already storms forward. an officer immediately moves between him and kaori. “hey—hey! back up!”
“get the fuck out of my way!” sukuna barks, trying to shove past him again, completely losing it.
kaori sits against the side of the ambulance now while a paramedic presses gauze against the cut on her forehead. another wraps a blanket around her shoulders despite the smell of alcohol practically soaking the air around her. she looks up just in time to see sukuna lunging toward her and for the first time that night, genuine fear crosses her face.
“you did this!” sukuna screams.
two officers grab him before he reaches her. sukuna fights violently in their grip, rage tearing through him he can barely see anything besides red.
“HE WENT AFTER YOU!” he shouts. “HE FUCKING WENT AFTER YOU!”
“kid, calm down—”
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”
behind him, paramedics suddenly start shouting near jin’s stretcher. one of them yells for another medic, and starts pushing sukuna’s father faster toward the ambulance.
what followed turned into a blur that sukuna’s mind never fully managed to piece together afterward. his body moved before his mind did. one second officers held him back, paramedics shouting around him, and the next he climbed into the ambulance beside his father while someone yelled that he couldn’t ride along unless he stayed seated.
sukuna didn’t even remember agreeing, he just remembered the inside of the ambulance feeling freezing cold, remembered the medic cutting jin’s shirt open, and remembered the blood. so much blood.
sukuna sat there with blood covering both hands, staring while they worked on his father right in front of him. jin barely stayed conscious the entire ride. every now and then his eyes opened halfway, searching weakly until they landed on sukuna again. like he needed to make sure he was still there. and every single time, sukuna felt something twist apart inside his chest.
then the hospital lights replaced the sirens. people moved around him constantly, nurses, doctors, officers asking questions—but sukuna stayed hunched over in the waiting room chair with his elbows on his knees and his father’s blood smeared across his hands. he stared at the floor so long he lost track of everything.
the automatic doors eventually opened again. heavy footsteps quickly coming towards him. toji. and then his gramps following close behind him.
“ryomen,” toji says immediately, breath uneven like he rushed there as fast as possible. “what happened?”
sukuna doesn’t answer. he just sits there, shoulders tense, brows pinched tight while his fingers curl harder against his palms. staring at the blood in the creases of his hands. then he mutters. quietly. low. “she killed him.”
toji’s expression shifts instantly. “what?”
“she killed him,” sukuna repeats, harsher this time, the words scraping out of his throat. “she killed him.”
sukuna barely notices the two men hovering around him. he keeps staring at the blood on his hands instead. his scraped knees. his football uniform still on.
sukuna genuinely can’t tell how many hours or minutes pass. the hospital waiting room grows quieter as the night drags on. his grandfather quietly rests his head back, while toji paces near the windows like he might punch straight through the glass. and then finally, the doors open again, a doctor walks out. everyone freezes immediately. and sukuna doesn’t need to hear the words, before the doctor even speaks.
he’s dead.
and it’s her fault.
the hard yank on his hair snaps sukuna straight back into the present. music crashes through the field while people scream their heads off around them. yuuji sitting on top of sukuna’s shoulders has one hand gripping sukuna’s phone while the other fully tugs on his brothers hair to keep balance.
“GRAMPS DO YOU SEE HIM?!” yuuji screams into the phone loud enough to blow out the speaker.
gramps voice crackles back immediately. “you keep shaking the damn phone!” the camera angle violently jerks around. all yuuji can see is the top half of the old man’s forehead shoved way too close to the screen. “stay still!”
“OHHHHHHHHH!!!!” yuuji completely loses his mind the second choso steps up to the mic again.
the entire field erupts with him.
ino’s drums shake through the speakers while the guitars kick in harder, the stage lights flashing over choso and his band as they absolutely light up the crowd. even nanami cups his hands around his mouth to yell, whatever dignity he usually carries cracking under the sheer energy of the performance. gojo screams something incomprehensible beside him. geto laughs while shoving him. megumi claps from toji’s shoulders with far more enthusiasm than he’d ever show on a regular day.
and somehow yuuji’s excitement finally drags sukuna with it. the tension in his chest loosens for the first time all night as yuuji bursts into louder cheering.
the two brothers start yelling toward the stage together, voices getting swallowed by the music and chaos around them while choso stands under the lights. and sukuna’s resolve hits him that very moment too.
he’s not letting these two out of his sight.
the celebrations, surprisingly, continued through the night until all the performers were done.
sukuna and the boys watched in the audience as all the bands crowded onto the stage and the promoters stood in the middle with a list and began announcing the six bands that will be proceeding to the semi-finals in two weeks.
“DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTING!” yuuji starts the cheers, sitting back on sukuna’s shoulders. the rest quickly join, and as the four bands are announced, the chanting grows louder. the crowd joining, a universal want for choso’s band, death paintings, to be one of the semi-finalists.
“and the final band to make it into the semi finals is….” the host waits for the anticipation to simmer, but it’s not realized with how unbelievably loud the chanting has gotten for different bands, but the loudest being for— “DEATH PAINTINGS!!”
—
the culmination of celebration among the group extends to choso. him and his two friends are on cloud nine after the announcement, riding the adrenaline. somehow, choso manages to push everything else aside that almost swallowed the entire night.
people keep stopping him before he can even take three steps, congratulating the band, asking questions, slapping him on the back. toji leaves before everyone else, megumi staying behind with the group as security pushes the crowd out of the venue field and toward the beach nearby. bonfires burn in the distance and music continues from portable speakers.
everyone was distracted, except sukuna. his decision settled during the performance and by the time they return home, well after midnight, the house felt exhausted. choso’s friends immediately crash his room. megumi sleeping in yuuji’s room without complaint. doors shut, voices fading until silence settles over the house.
sukuna sits alone at the kitchen table. the only light comes from his laptop screen.
the black envelope sits beside it. opened.
a thick paper rests beneath his hand as he reads the letter again for what must be the hundredth time. an invitation. the one he’s waited to receive again for the past five years.
a la liga club. three weeks training with one of the best clubs in the world. three weeks that could change his entire future. the letter might as well weigh a hundred pounds. for weeks, sukuna pushed away replying, even when everyone brought it up. he had more pressing things at the front of his mind….
his eyes drift toward the hallway where his brothers sleep. a few months ago the answer would’ve been simple. obvious, even…but since kaori, everything’s changed.
his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.
Dear Recruitment Team,
Thank you for extending the invitation. I am honored by the opportunity and would like to formally accept.
But before finalizing travel arrangements, I would like to discuss one logistical matter. I am the primary caretaker of my two younger brothers and am responsible for their supervision and wellbeing during the summer. As a result, I will not be able to travel without them and would like to ask whether accommodations can be made for my brothers to accompany me during the three-week training period. Their presence would not interfere with my participation in training or any club obligations.
his eyes narrow, reading over the email. he isn’t asking, he already knows what he’s doing. if the club says yes, yuuji and choso are coming. end of discussion. if they don’t…then. his fingers flex, veins straining.
both outcomes will result in consequences. the first is choso, but after today, he doesn’t care if choso throws a fit, or if he gets called controlling or insane. he isn’t leaving them behind after tonight and remembering exactly how fast everything can disappear.
his fingers resume moving.
I understand this is an unusual request, but I wanted to address it before confirming. If necessary, I would be happy to discuss the situation further and provide any information you may need.
Thank you again for this opportunity. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Ryomen Sukuna Itadori
sukuna leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. for a moment, the silent churning deep in his chest twists… the lingering feeling that’s been pushed returning. a familiar one that’s ruled his life for years. bad things happen whether you’re ready or not. people leave whether you hold onto them or not. life keeps moving whether you’re scared of it or not. and if that’s true—
his gaze drops back to the laptop. the cursor hovers over the send button. the house remains completely silent. inside their rooms, his brothers sleep peacefully, completely unaware that their summer plans are about to change.
SEND
the email vanishes.
for several seconds he simply stares at the screen. then he reaches over, grabs the black envelope, and crushes it in his fist. three weeks in spain. suck it up.
—
the following two weeks went by with a breeze. aside from two separate incidents in two completely different places. one unraveled in the itadori household a few days after the battle of the bands tournament, and the second was in a certain hospital staircase that same day.
your jaw tenses. shoko quietly stands beside you, your hands tucked behind your backs. a resident stands across from you while an attending stands front and center. the staircase feels too small and you already know this isn’t about a patient, glancing at shoko beside you.
the attending, your father, removes his glasses, folding them in his hand. “you know why we’re having this conversation?”
you shift your weight, shoko glances at you. heat crawls up from the back of your neck. you finally respond with a small shrug. the resident cringes, your father doesn’t. “you asked shoko to ask a resident physician to prescribe medication to you.”
you swallow thickly biting your cheek. shoko opens her mouth, but your dad holds a hand up.
“I’ll give you a chance. I’m asking her to answer first.” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. which you do.
“i asked a question,” you clear your throat. “I was asking shoko to ask for me.”
“you put them in an inappropriate position,” he cuts, silencing you in seconds.
your chest tightens, heat spreading to your face now. the embarrassment sits heavy on your chest now. you see shoko try to raise her hand beside you again.
“can I—“ the attending finally turns his head to shoko. “we were just talking.” she clears her throat, “we both didn’t know what the policy was on—“
“the policy is your supervisors can’t prescribe you medication,” he snaps.
shoko nods, glancing at the resident, who’s supervising this summer’s undergrad students, including her and you. “yeah, I was told.”
you scratch your wrist awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to put anyone in an…inappropriate position.” you wet your lip, pushing the coil crawling up your throat. “it won’t happen again.”
he processes your apology. his eyes flick to the resident and shoko, dismissing them. shoko glances at you as she follows the resident out, the staircase door shutting behind her. the silence grows louder with just the two of you. you inhale sharply, your head falling back, hands covering your face.
“dad—“
“do you need a new prescription?”
“no,” you cut, hands shielding you from his gaze.
“then why did you ask? have you spoken to your doctor about this?”
“I’m not—“ you stop, taking a deep breath. “I don’t need another prescription. and I told you already I’ve been talking to my doctor. I was just asking a question— I was just stressed.”
“why? you’ve done all this before,” he cuts, brows furrowed, and arms crossed in confusion.
“I’m stressed about other stuff,” you exhale, hands falling, face still burning from the humiliation earlier.
“what other stuff?” he pushes. genuinely confused about what you could be worrying about. “you don’t have classes or exams. you know everything. if you have any questions you can ask me—“
“yeah, I’m worried about other stuff, like generally,” you huff, rubbing your face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“you’re not taking any medication now?” he changes the subject back, brushing off your concerns to push his own out, “jennie told me you weren’t when she visited.”
your teeth clench, rubbing your eye, “yeah, I don’t need it anymore. I haven’t had them since finals.”
his eyes narrow, you can see the concern pinching his brows. “I don’t have a problem if you still need to take them. you know that—“
“yeah, but I don’t need them,” your stomach curls tighter, especially when he glances over you like…like you’re causing him more stress. it’s confusing, you know tjat. saying you don’t need any more medication, but then asking a resident a question about whether they can give you some for stress. it doesn’t make sense, and at this point you’re getting frustrated with yourself. “it’s not a big deal. next time I just won’t ask anyone anything,” you mutter.
“we’re having a conversation, so don’t do that,” he shakes his head in disappointment. the pit in your stomach growing at the sight. “I want to understand why you asked.”
you stomach churns, “it’s fine.”
the silence stretches between you, then you finally decide to leave.
“you should go home,” he steps to block the door.
you barely blink, the comment rolling off your back as you hum. “great.”
your father exhales through his nose. “i’m serious.”
“i know.”
“you don’t sound like you know.”
your jaw tightens, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. “can i go now?” you ask.
he stares at you for another second before stepping aside. the staircase door swings open and you leave. your shoes slap against the floor as you move through the hallway. nurses pass, residents pass, families pass, and it all irritates you. you don’t even realize how fast you’re walking until another set of footsteps catches up beside you.
“hey.” you don’t look over. shoko keeps a quick pace beside you anyway. “hey.”
“what?” you stop.
the word comes out harsher than intended. shoko is unfazed, “i’m sorry.”
you glance at her. the two of you standing by the lockerroom. “for what?”
“for telling the resident.”
“yeah well you didn’t tell on me.”
“still.”
you put the code in before entering the locker room, shoko follows. “still what? i asked a question and apparently that’s illegal.”
“that’s not what i mean,” shoko sits on the bench as you take your backpack out.
you sigh, “i know what you meant.” you start changing. “it’s just annoying that I was scolded like that and I didn’t even wanna do this stupid ass program in the first place. no offense,” you start rambling. “but seriously, how many times does this make it—like the fifth freaking time I get yelled at in front of these residents and I haven’t even done anything that crazy. asking a question?! god forbid!” you throw your hands up in sarcastic defense. you scoff at the situation rolling your eyes.
“this whole thing is just a humiliation ritual of being a fucking doormat, and having every single person around me be the biggest ops ever—not you,” you put your shirt on, pulling your jeans up right after. “let’s bet how much shit I’m gonna get if I just mention to jennie how annoyed I am,” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what she’ll say. “if yOU doN’t LiKe it sO mUCh jusT qUiT,” you mimic her voice.
shoko, who has been quietly listening, stifles her own laugh. “why do you let her get under your skin?”
you deadpan. “she is the only person that can ragebait me until i wanna tear my hair out,” you’re basically clawing at your skin. “can’t even complain about anything anymore,” you mutter more to yourself. “whatever.”
shoko gives you a sympathetic look.
“call me when you finish, I’ll come pick you up,” you conclude, waiting for shoko’s hum before leaving.
and just a few miles away, another incident was unfolding in the itadori garage.
“what?” choso’s voice cuts through the room. “you’re lying.”
“you don’t want a free vacation?”
“it’s not a free anything! i’m not going to spain! the tournament—”
“yeah, the finals are the day before our flight, still lying—”
“i’m not lying! when we win we’re gonna be meeting with producers and stuff—”
“and stuff,” sukuna laughs. “you can zoom in.”
“that’s not the same thing!”
“sounds the same.”
“it literally isn’t!”
the garage erupts. the old fan rattles uselessly in the corner, guitar cables snake across the floor and choso stands in the middle, face red with frustration while sukuna lounges against the workbench like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week.
“i’m not missing opportunities because you’re going to spain!” choso shouts.
sukuna shrugs, “good thing i’m not asking.”
“you can’t do that!”
“watch me.”
“ryomen!”
“choso!”
the younger teen looks seconds away from committing a felony, his jaw tightens, anger bubbling dangerously, “you’re possessively controlling.”
“shocker,” sukuna replies lowly, checking his phone after it buzzes.
“you can’t just drag people across the world!”
“sure i can.”
“i’m sixteen!”
“exactly.”
choso makes a strangled noise just as the garage door suddenly slides open.
“hey, i brought—” ino freezes, a pizza box hangs from one hand. his eyes dart between the brothers. “…oh.”
“tell him he’s insane!” choso shouts, voice cracking and pointing at the tattooed brother lounged in the corner on his phone.
“tell him i’m right,” sukuna says at the same time with less effort as his younger brother.
ino slowly starts backing out. “nope.”
choso’s jaw clenches, “ino.”
ino shakes his head more, “no.”
“ino,” choso’s words strain.
“naaahhhh man.” the teen points at both of them, pizza box fumbling. “last time i got involved in your family drama i got interrogated by psycho satan.” he means sukuna.
“that’s dramatic,” sukuna snorts.
“you threatened me,” ino huffs.
“that’s different,” sukuna casually scratches his large tatted bicep, with an added shrug.
ino frowns, “how is that different?!”
suluna shrugs, while the younger teen throws his hands in the air, choso’s black hair is messy and pushed out of his face from how much he’s run his hands through it. “he accepted the offer!”
“what offer?” ino asks.
“the spain one,” choso frowns, and sukuna eyes dart up, not realizing how many people knew about this offer. ino blinks, lips parting and eyes lighting up.
“…spain spain?”
“yes, spain spain,” choso snaps.
“like beaches?”
“yes.”
“europe?”
“yes!”
“yoooooo,” ino is smiling wide now, stepping further into the garage. “that’s so cool!”
“dude—“ choso snaps.
ino cringes, but the smile doesn’t go away, “sorry, but like DAAAAANG, remember a couple years ago, we talked about it—duuude,” ino’s attention shifts to sukuna, smiling wide. “congrats!!”
“what—stop glazing him!” choso interrupts, and ino holds back his tongue, conflicted.
“cool but like yeah, no, that’s actually insane, why does choso needa go with you? not cool,” ino falls in line.
choso relaxes just a bit, “thank you.”
“but also…” ino hesitates, and choso’s eyes narrows immediately.
“don’t.”
ino puts the pizza on the table, shrugging, “i’m just saying—”
“ino.”
“i mean…spain is kinda sick,” he plays devils advocate. and sukuna barks out a laugh.
“ino!” choso looks ready to throw his guitar right at his best friend. “you never help, shit friend.”
“he’ll get over it,” sukuna says to ino, who feels slightly guilty, opening the box to take out a slice while it’s hot.
“i won’t!” choso shouts, putting his guitar down.
sukuna ignores him, “he will.”
“i won’t!”
“you always do.” the words come out too casual, and for half a second, the garage falls quiet. choso’s jaw tightens, and sukuna’s grin fades slightly, watching his younger brother’s expression shift, the anger burning hotter. the same anger claws at sukuna’s own chest remebering why he has to force choso to come with him.
“I’m staying with gramps,” choso’s voice is lower. his own brain trying to wrap around the sudden information. he hadn’t even known that his brother accepted the offer when he wouldn’t even talk to anyone about it. and to find out he accepted it and was told it’s okay for him to bring his brothers without even asking him?!
“gramps is going to the lake with his war buds like he does every summers so yeah, you’re not staying here alone.” sukuna tsks, standing up. he glares at choso across the garage, waiting for choso to test him. the tension suddenly hits ino full force. the bickering had turned into something charged in a matter of seconds. his chewing slows, awkwardly.
“I’ll stay with ino,” choso pushes, eyes darting between sukuna’s.
“this lying shit?” sukuna scoffs pointing at ino without glancing at him.
ino chokes, coughing, “me?!!”
sukuna frowns, eyes narrowing sharply, “I fucking asked you if he saw that bitch of mom and you said no. that constitutes as lying.”
ino lowers his head.
“I told him not to say anything,” choso defends, “he’s my friend.”
“exactly why you’re not staying with him because he’ll lie and I won’t know if you see that woman again or not.” sukuna takes a step towards his brother.
“i took money from her,” choso tilts his head, clearly not afraid of the older as his eyes narrow. “I’m gonna give her that money back.”
“I don’t give a shit if you don’t or if you take more money from her. she owes you and yuuji a shit ton of money anyways,” sukuna stops in front of choso. an unknown look crossing the man’s face, and choso hesitates for a moment. “I have a problem that she laid her hands on you.”
choso’s jaw clenches, stepping away. “I stole money from her.”
“so you think you deserve to get hit?” sukuna snaps. choso rolls his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza, forcing himself to act casual. “she’s a toxic psycho.”
“whatever, man,” choso mutters, dismissing the conversation about his mother. an uncomfortable twist settling deep in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. “I don’t wanna talk about her with you.”
“why because I don’t sugarcoat how horrible she is?” sukuna scoffs. choso’s defensive attitude quietly triggers the older. choso rolls his eyes again, gaze locked at the pizza, but sukuna catches it and ino sinks further in the corner. “stupid ass teen,” sukuna grabs his keys from his pocket, walking towards the door, opening the garage. “fucking proving my damn point by acting stupid as fuck.”
sukuna scoffs, pissing himself off as the memories of this woman flood his mind. jaw tensing as he looks at choso turning away from him. “mothers don’t beat their kids, and she was more of dad’s fucking mental patient than a mom to you”
“how the fuck would you know!” choso finally snaps. “your mom left and my mom isn’t yours, I have my own memories!”
“the ones when you were two?” sukuna scoffs, walking towards the parked pick-up truck. “I doubt you remember shit before you were twelve,” sukuna says the comment without realizing the flame he lit.
“I remember you going to jail too and losing your first club offer,” choso spits. “great example compared to her. definitely my role model!”
sukuna stops dead in his tracks, jaw tightening, he glances over his shoulder and choso doesn’t back down. “you’re more like her than me or yuuji are, so it’s pretty hypocritical that I’m being forced to go to spain with another psycho.”
mechamaru had just parked his car and is exiting when he hears the yelling from his friend’s open driveway. ino has attempted to blend in with the couch, empty plate in his lap while choso’s chest heaves. the strings in his heart strain ignoring the unfamiliar look on his brothers face. especially when sukuna fiddles with his keys with one hand, the jangling fills the tense air, before sukuna licks his teeth.
“at least I’ve never hit you guys.”
the response is deeply honest that choso pauses, unable to respond. sukuna swings his keys between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck and walking down the driveway. he passes mechamaru silently, unlocking his truck.
the teens are left in defending silence minutes after sukuna’s already driven away. ino and mechamaru exchange looks, especially when choso disappears into the house to wash his face.
at some point the houses thin out and the ocean appears. the clouds hang low and heavy overhead, turning the late afternoon gray. rain threatening to fall any minute. sukuna parks in an empty lot overlooking the beach and kills the engine. his hands are locked around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
you’re more like her than me or yuuji are.
his jaw aches. choso hadn’t even sounded afraid when he said it, he was angry enough to mean it. sukuna drags both hands over his face, wishing he can claw at everything. “fuck.”
the word disappears, waves crashing against the shore, ahead as his phone vibrates inside. and miles away, parked beside an empty field, you do the same.
the hospital sits somewhere behind you, and your home is in the opposite direction, and neither destination sounds appealing. the engine is off. the windows are cracked. summer wind drifts through the car as you stare at absolutely nothing. your father’s voice rings around your skull making you rest your head against the window. you don’t want to go home or go back or do anything.
eventually your phone lights up.
after another few minutes of staring at the ocean, his hand finally reaches for his phone. notifications flood the screen, group chats, soccer shit, gojo being annoying, something from toji, and his thumb scrolls through the usual unopened messages until he sees a certain contact.
his thumb stops. three days ago.
crybaby: where’s the video of your brother’s band?
his gaze lingers. for some reason, that message irritates him less than everything else. he opens the chat and for a moment he considers not responding, his thumb mindlessly scrolls through your earlier conversation, until the photo you sent him fills his screen.
dumbass: they made it to the semifinals
a beat passes..
dumbass: i forgot to send the video
your phone vibrates against the passenger seat making you glance down and see his name, and despite the day you’ve had, despite everything, your chest loosens just a little.
crybaby: woww
crybaby: a whole 3 days later
crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me
sukuna snorts. his head tips back against the seat. outside, thunder rumbles somewhere over the water.
dumbass: good guesser
you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.
crybaby: haha u’re soo funny
sukuna scrolls through his camera roll. easily finding the video gojo had taken and sending it to you. you heart the message, and a few minutes later the texts flood in.
crybaby: WHAAAA
crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD
dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass
crybaby: ngl…I wasn’t expecting much
dumbass: rude
crybaby: ONLY BC I’ve gone to a few in the past and RARELY r they ever good
crybaby: NO OFFENSE
dumbass: I’m offended
you don’t realize the smile on your face as you watch another video sukuna sends. relaxing back in your seat, jaw agape.
crybaby: no like actually wth — ur brother’s voice is making me tear up
crybaby: it’s so angelic esp for a hard rock band
sukuna snorts.
dumbass: crybaby
crybaby: did I say CRY? I said TEAR UP smh smhh
a few beats pass, not long enough for you to fully exit your messages, but long enough to watch the little typing bubble appear then disappear, and then your face fills your screen.
….incoming FaceTime from dumbass….
your lips part, cheeks warming as you easily click accept, the call connecting. sukuna’s face fills your screen, the camera angle is terrible, but somehow he still looks unfairly attractive.
the lighting inside the truck is dim from the storm clouds outside, shadows cutting across the sharp lines of his face. his pink hair looks soft, a few strands hang loose across his forehead. his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black shirt, the dark markings curling up the side of his neck. his forearm rests against the driver’s side window, broad shoulders, strong jaw—you hate how hot he looks.
on the other side of the call, sukuna feels much the same.
he expected your voice, but there’s something about seeing your face. your hair is slightly messy from your long day. you’re leaning sideways against the drivers seat, cheek pressed against the headrest of your car seat. golden evening light spills through the window in front of you, softening everything. you look tired, but pretty…really pretty. something in his chest loosens.
your eyes blink slowly, then narrow, “what happened to your face?”
sukuna’s brow furrows, “what?”
you lean closer to the camera, “your eye.”
his hand immediately comes up, glancing at the mirror in front of him. forgetting about the faint bruise caused by toji a few days ago, and barely noticeable to anyone except apparently you.
his fingers brush beneath it. “nothing.”
you stare and sukuna stares looks back at his phone, “that’s not nothing.”
“it’s nothing.”
“yeah definitely,” you sarcastically quip.
“it’s literally nothing.” your expression flattens. his matches yours instantly. neither of you budge. the silence stretches then—
“did you get punched?”
the offended look that flashes across his face almost makes you laugh. “the fuck kind of question is that?” he snaps.
you shrug fast, “it’s a valid question.”
“no it isn’t.”
“it is, since that’s what people who get punched in the face look like,” you say, like you’re some expert.
“speaking from experience?” he tosses, irritation scratching at your questions.
“yeah,” you lie, and he probably knows that, but still he leans back in his seat again. “it definitely looks like you got a bruise.”
“yeah, because i play a contact sport,” he huffs. you squint suspiciously as he rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. “gojo elbowed me in the middle of a game.”
“see?” you point triumphantly. “that wasn’t hard.”
sukuna tsks, “you’re annoying.”
“i was curious,” you shrug.
“it’s a bruise.”
“on your face.”
“you sound like yuuji.” the corner of his mouth twitches, barely there, but enough for the tightness in both of your chests to ease just a little. your lips part, still looking at the bruise.
“does it hurt?” your voice is softer, allowing something warm to settle in sukuna’s chest.
a smirk tugs on the players lips. “yeah. you gonna come make me feel better?” the teasing has your thighs clenching. his voice is low, deep, watching your eyes dart off screen. “where are you right now?”
you shift in your seat, flipping the camera to do a 360 of your surroundings. sukuna notices your bag in the passenger seat, “you get off work?”
“yup left early,” you flip the camera back, your phone on your lap as you fix your necklace in the mirror.
“you ditched?”
you laugh, “no,” you pick your phone back up, “I was kicked out.”
sukuna whistles. “bad girl. what’d you do?”
you shrug, leaning back in your seat, “I punched a patient.”
sukuna’s eyes blow wide, “you’re lying.”
you snort, “obviously,” you smile, pretty lips glossy as you wet them. “just had a chat with my dad and he told me to go home.”
“are you home?”
you shake your head, tilting just a bit as you watch sukuna through the phone. the silence fills both your environments. “doesn’t look like you’re home.”
“got work soon,” he answers, eyeing the curve of your jaw as you look out the window as if you weren’t parked in a deserted lot. still he can’t help the churning in his stomach as you fiddle with your earrings, lips parting again.
“so you gotta go soon?”
sukuna can’t fully read your emotions through a shitty phone screen, but he can catch the slight sweetness in your tone. and that was enough to pull a subtle smirk from him. he’s fully resting his back against his seat, arm propped on the open window holding his phone, while the other rests on his lap.
“I have some time,” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing a tad when you hum. “you have something in mind?”
you wet your lip, eyes twinkling as you nod your head. “yeah, i wanted to ask you a question.” he smirks, letting you continue. “how fast did you cum when i sent you that picture on saturday?” sukuna’s smile falters. “because you sent me a pic like three minutes later.”
you really love to push his buttons. the scowl is written all over his face. “i was already on edge, so i was doing it for awhile before you even sent it.”
your smile grows, if possible, a devilish twinkle in your eyes. “so i really helped you cum, ryo, hmm?” you wet your lip, and the action, coupled up with your sultry tone, has sukuna’s pants growing tight, “you made a big mess. cumming all over yourself like that,” you tsk, teasingly. “do you always make a big mess when you play by yourself?”
sukuna’s jaw tightens, his crotch swelling from your teasing. the bulge pushing up against his jeans, just as his palm digs against the evidence. unable to hide the fact that you’re turning him on.
“don’t be embarrassed, ry,” you coo with faux sweetness. “big boys make messes too.”
a loud, strangled scoff, escapes the man’s mouth. cheeks hot, as you continue degrading him. “suddenly y’er all confident because I can’t pin you down from here?”
you shrug, little smirk still playing on those pretty lips of yours. fuck, he misses having those lips on him. kissing you deeply, swallowing your whines and strangled moans. “am I not allowed to make you feel better?”
“fucking teasing me,” he grunts, jaw tightening as he palms his bulge.
heat pools between your legs, face warm as you see his shifting. “did I make you hard?” the excitement was obvious in your tone.
“don’t act surprised,” he mutters, flipping the camera to see the big bulge he’s gripping over his jeans. sukuna see’s the dizzy like look you have, lips parting.
“take it out.”
he smirks. you’re a little perv. and not so surprisingly, you see the uncoordinated moving as he unbuckles his belt, the phone dropping then getting raised again to see the way he pushes the waistband of his black Calvin’s, dragging it down. his dark pubes not as well groomed as it usually is, and that has you biting back a whimper.
fuck fuck, you miss pressing your face there, licking the coarse hairs, kissing his base.
and finally his hand wraps around the chubby length, freeing his semi-hard cock in his car. thunder cracks in the distant, rain starting to pour.
“gonna keep telling me what to do, or do you want closeups?” he teases, stroking his base lazily, biting his lip.
you shift in your seat.
“spit on it—“
you already see his spit fly and hit his flushed cock, immediately making your cheeks sting.
“c’mon, gotta keep talkin’ to me like my personal slut,” he hasn’t done anything since spitting on his cock, waiting for you to continue your directions. if you’re gonna act all dominant, then he’ll give you all the control…at least when you’re separated by a phone screen.
“stroke your cock…slow,” you command, wetting your lip as you watch him, and he listens. a wave of quiet confidence floods your head at his submission. “rub your slit with your thumb…yeah…” your lips part watching him stroke his cock. “faster.”
his breath is heavy behind the phone, grip tightening when he reaches the base, before twisting his hand back up, thumb collecting his pre and spreading it to the rest of his cock.
“do you usually jerk off like this?” your lewd curiosity always makes him smirk.
“I’m taking your direction.”
“jerk off like you usually do then…I wanna see,” you interrupt.
he snorts, loosening his jaw, before his pace picks up, tugging on his impressive size, collecting more pre and doing his best to self lubricate. his grunts are slightly louder, sending heat to your pussy, you can already feel your drenched panties.
“let go.”
a strangled noise comes out of him as his hand lets go making his cock bob between his legs, his thighs flex, jaw tightening as more pre cum leaks out in humiliation. “fuck.” he runs his hand on his abs, lifting his shirt higher, watching his own cock throb and twitch mid-air. the weight angling his cock down.
“ow!”
he doesn’t fully realize what you’re doing, until you yelp. his brows pinch, eyes narrowing because your phone is no longer on your face, but on the ceiling of your car.
“what’re you doing?” his words fall on deaf ears, when you’re suddenly lifting the camera back up, and revealing the state you’re in. you’re completely naked from the waist down, shirt pushed above those beautiful tits, and your lips all wet from how much your biting them. “fuck, baby.”
you smile, pushing the drivers seat further back to give yourself space, cheeks hot as you spread your legs. “lemme see your face, ryomen.”
he easily flips the camera back. you blush seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. “you like risky stuff,” he points.
“I’m alone.”
“still public.”
your lips part, rubbing your nipple, slowly teasing yourself. his eyes darken, gaze darting between your face and those beautiful perky nipples he wishes he could suck this very second. fuck, when you’d run your nails through his hair when he’d bite your perky buds and you’d moan so sweetly.
“you’re not even twisting them hard enough,” he tsks, watching you play with yourself…incorrectly. “how often do you touch yourself.”
“not as often as you touch me.”
sukuna chokes. you’re way too fast for him, and it catches him off guard every once in a awhile. he quickly recovers, “show me how wet you are.”
you listen, managing to face the passenger seat and have the phone propped on your bag.
“aw, you’re dripping,” he coos, biting his lip, as you run your fingers through the mess, spreading your pretty folds for him. “dirty girl,” he groans, hand sneaking down to his twitching hard cock—
“don’t touch yourself,” you cut possessively. “it’s my turn.”
“I didn’t even cum,” he tsks, but still eases back, thick legs spreading wider as he watches you shrug. “fine, lemme see how many fingers you can put in that little pussy.”
“one.”
“I said: let me see,” his voice drops an octave and that has you clenching and blushing all over. “lick your finger.”
you lean close to the camera, making a show of caressing your plump bottom lip, then easing your middle finger in. your suck the digit, eyes heavy as they look directly at sukuna. he silently watches, jaw loosening as he tries his best to keep his hand away, especially when you pull your middle finger out, flipping him off.
“cute,” he smirks, screenshotting. “put it in.” he tilts his head, humming as you sit back just a little. he eyes the way you open your legs, running your finger down your body, before circling your clit. your lips part and sukuna notices the way your back arches just a bit, finally pushing in, “theere we go.”
you hum along, jaw agape as you curl your finger in slowly pumping your finger. it’s not the same though. you hate having to do this shit yourself, it would kill the mood if sukuna wasn’t praising you on the other line.
“fuck, your pussy looks so pretty,” he groans, “so hot.”
you bite back a moan, lashes fluttering as you move your finger back to your clit. unaware of the disappointment until you hear a loud tsk.
“why’d you take your finger out?” sukuna barks.
you frown, still rubbing your clit, “It doesn’t feel as good.”
“bullshit,” he huffs, “put two fingers in.” your cheeks flush hot, collecting your arousal on your finger and teasing your hole again. “fuck your pussy like I told ya too.”
you wet your lips with attitude he can clearly read, especially when you add a sarcastic, “yes, sir.”
pre oozes from the brute’s twitching cock.
still, his eyes narrow with lust as he watches you dip your pretty little fingers in that tight hole. it’s always the initial stretch that has your lips parting. “keep moving your fingers. curl ‘em,” he husks, voice much lower and sexier, unbelievably turned on. “dirty girl fingerin’ herself in her car.”
you whine, back pressed against the door, as you angle your hips up, back arching as you continue fingering yourself, especially when you curl them and finally feel that spot. “got it?”
your glossy lips part, nodding, “y-yeah haah—ry-touch y’rself to me.“
fuck.
he doesn’t waste a second grabbing his cock and working himself up to the pace you’ve set. his own jaw clenches, watching your legs tremble as you pump your pretty fingers in and out, watching the way your fingers glisten every time you pull out, pretty nipples all hard and exposed, and lips glossy.
his thigh trembles, jaw tensing as he squeezes his base, holding himself back as you pull your fingers out to stimulate your neglected clit.
“good girl,” he husks under his breath, unaware of how much he enjoys watching you and getting jealous from nothing. you respond with a heavy sigh, tongue poking out as you feel yourself getting closer.
“gun- cum with me…ry-haah?”
he starts working his chubby cock, wishing to death he can feel the heat of your pussy against his swollen tip. “yeah, keep working those little fingers, make yourself cum.”
your whine pitches a little higher in the small car. thighs spreading wider as you stimulate your clit, oblivious to the low praises sukuna is muttering, feeling his heavy balls clench up. and just as your about to reach the edge, toes curling in your shoes, your phone tips over, hitting the ground just as sukuna hears you moan—
“anhh—“
“what the fuck!?”
you whine, back hitting the door as your legs close around your hand. lips parted as your chest rises with each heavy breath. you don’t even realize what happened until you hear your name being called, followed be another “where the fuck did you go?!”
your brows furrow, glancing at where your phone once was, then to its place on the floor of the passenger side. “oh.”
you move over the center, reaching down to lift your phone, and the moment your face comes to view, sukuna’s jaw tenses more.
“you came?”
your lips part sitting back in your seat. “yeah, I think i accidentally kicked my bag. did you cu—“
“no.” he cuts sharply. you suck your lips in to refrain from laughing. “cum again.”
your brows rise. “I can’t.”
sukuna barks out a humorless laugh. “I always make you cum more than once—“
“yeah, YOU—not ME. I don’t know how to overstimulate myself,” you reach for some tissues to clean yourself off camera. but sukuna groans loudly, cock throbbing as he works himself. “just imagine me cumming.”
his jaw locks, head tipping back so you can get a perfect shot of his sharp jaw. the silence stretches for a second before sukuna opens his mouth, refusing to look at his phone, missing the way your lips part, and face burns.
“talk into the phone then.”
your stomach flips with something you don’t want to name, especially when he tilts his head back clearly still working his monster of a cock that’s painfully red. “I’m close. speak.”
the command has you closing your thighs tighter, raising the phone to your lips, inhaling slowly, controlling the butterflies.
another beat passes before you finally begin.
“my fingers are so wet after cumming…” you dramatize a gentle sigh, “my pussy is so empty…I need your big fat cock filling my tight…little…pussy…ryo.”
“fuck,” sukuna’s jaw clenches harder, abs tightening as he aggressively twists his hand up his cock, thumb digging into his slit, much more aggressive than how you’d touch his cock, but he just needs to cum.
“can’t wait to see you, ryomen,” you exhale sweetly, adding a little pitched hum, “want you to use my pussy like it’s your pretty toy,” you blush at your own words, keeping it just a little over a whisper because if it was any louder than you might melt into the seat with embarrassment. but sukuna’s strained, low grunts, is reassuring. “fuck me until I can’t move, kiss me until I can’t breathe…you wanna kiss me right, pretty boy?” your cheeks sting viscously at the pet name that casually rolled off your tongue—
but then, a long deep groan comes from the back of the 6’4 footballer’s throat.
your entire body catches on fire, and a smile quietly tugs at the corners of your lips.
“you wanna kiss me that bad, baby?” you tease lightly, and even though sukuna refuses to reply, his strangled grunts, and sounds of his squelching cock being tugged, is enough reassurance to give you that final sentence that pushes him off the edge. “you also wanna stuff my pretty pussy right: wanna fill me with your thick…heavy cum, don’t you ryo?” you bite your lip the moment you hear the choke on the other end.
you quietly listen, pulling your phone to see that sukuna’s phone is forgotten in his lap. your finger playing at your lip, still smiling, waiting for sukuna to come down from his orgasm.
the man’s jaw is locked. head tipped back against the head rest. chest heaving. and face burning with a light shade of pink.
“you cum?” you break the silence, tone laced with something that twists in sukuna’s gut. the phone shifts, your face unable to stop your smile when you see his flushed face. your fingers still playing with your lips with faux innocence.
“yeah.” his clipped tone isn’t too harsh, but definitely shielding something else as he looks down at the mess. his jaw tenses seeing his cum covering his hand and splattered on the steering wheel. even if the phone is on his face, you can see the way his eyes are looking past it.
“you made a mess?”
he licks his teeth, eyes catching yours. “yeah.”
dang he’s cold. is he embarrassed? a warmth settles in your tummy at the thought. it’s hard to read him, but it’s even harder when it’s through the phone. either way, you shift around your car, putting your panties and pants back on and pulling your shirt down, fixing your bra. on the other end, sukuna is pulling his shirt off, and using it to clean the mess he made. jaw tensing every time your voice rings in his head again.
“who taught you how to talk like that?” he raises his hips pulling his pants back up, tucking his softening cock in.
your brow quirks lightly, “nobody lol,” you look back at your phone. “I was just going with the flow,” you smirk, head tilting just a bit that the man freezes, stomach flipping at the pretty sight on his phone and he instinctively just….*screenshot* “was I good?”
he makes a grumbling noise, then, “made me cum.”
“so, good?”
he rolls his eyes, “sure.” he ignores your smile as he finishes cleaning his mess. the buzzing of your phone interrupting. “you have to go?”
you hum, “yeah, gotta pick up shoko.” you text her that you’re on your way. sukuna looks back at his phone as he starts his car up, you do the same. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”
and the second sukuna gives an affirmative hum, you hang up.
as the days pass. neither one of you found your stress levels steady. instead, you were tested again and again, more rejection emails coming in for writing and producing programs you applied too for the summer. and as was sukuna with his brother’s attitude, especially with this weird phase that’s caught his attention with yuuji.
“I thought you were seeing megumi tomorrow?” sukuna glances up from his spot behind the bar, stopping mid-wipe down to see yuuji slinging his backpack on.
“we’re going to the beach today to see them set up before the festival tomorrow,” yuuji mutters, pushing his overgrown hair off his forehead in quiet annoyance.
sukuna’s brows pinch tight, “thought we were gonna do that?”
yuuji shrugs already walking to the back of the bar, large open windows lining the back that overlooks the beach. megumi and nobara wait outside, chatting. “s’fine,” yuuji stops by the door, “choso doesn’t talk to you, and you’re always busy—so whatever.”
sukuna tenses, grip curling around the dirty rag as his little brother turns and leaves. what the fuck?? since when has yuuji been cut and dry with him!?
just as sukuna stresses about his younger siblings, you’re wondering how much longer you have to hold yourself back until you tear your eyes out. another rejection email, that could’ve been the reason why your sudden stress skyrockets and then it immediately crashes after higuruma finally texts you after not hearing anything from him since you first got his number.
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: hey this is hiromi
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: sorry it’s been awhile but my uncle finally got back to me, he’s free thursday or friday around the afternoon to chat
[12:35PM] hiromi higuruma: lmk which day works so he can put it in his calendar before he gets booked
your lips part, standing outside a patient room staring at your phone. shit. your heart pounds rapidly against your ribs. you work until five everyday. your jaw tenses…just ask if he can do anything after—he can’t. unlike you, people can’t just move things around for you. your fingers quickly tap your screen.
[12:40PM] you: hii
[12:40PM] you: yea friday works for me, would this be a zoom call or phone call?
you see the bubbles appear, then disappear. you shift your weight, stomach churning.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit
your stomach drops.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: I forgot—you’re not based in the city?
[12:42PM] you: no, I’m back home for the summer
[12:43PM] you: would it be a problem doing it on zoom?
your back leans against the wall, stomach aching as you wait for his response. seriously, can one thing not work out in your favor?
[12:44PM] hiromi hirguruma: I’ll talk to him, but I think it’s better to wait until you’re back in the city and do it in person
[12:44PM] hiromi higuruma: only saying this bc he forgets everyone he talks too on zoom but he’ll be much more helpful if he meets you face to face, plus you’re a good conversationalist (js from my perspective) so you’d leave a good impression
a beat passes.
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: your call tho, i can still talk to him if u want
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: he's here all summer, so whenever you're back js Imk and I can set up a meeting
fuck!! your jaw aches, clenching down hard enough to break your teeth. hot tears sting behind your eyes, threatening to spill. you inhale sharply. grinding down harder on your teeth as you squeeze your phone.
what’s the fucking point in meeting with him now if he’ll just forget about you?
[12:47PM] you: oh okay, yeah I think it’s better in person then
[12:47PM] you: I’ll be in the city in august, is that okay?
your heart twists unbelievably tight, nails digging into your palm.
[12:48PM] hiromi higuruma: yeah for sure! and dw I’ll set a meeting up with u and him
almost like he can sense your disappointment through your hesitant texts. he sends another message.
[12:49PM] hiromi higuruma: how’s your summer?
wrong question…
[12:49PM] you: 😀 so good!
the bubbles appear then disappear, then:
[12:50PM] hiromi higuruma: that’s a sarcastic emoji right?
you can’t control the quiet chuckle that slips out.
[12:50PM] you: loll yeah
[12:50PM] you: its fine…working here…with my dad…yayy
higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: u losing ur mind?
[12:51PM] you: nope
[12:51PM] you: y would u say that (I wanna kms)
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: (rip) just a hunch, guess I was wrong
a smile threatens your face.
[12:52PM] hiromi higuruma: don’t stress tho, my uncle has some rlly good connects so he’ll help u out
you bite your cheek, pushing down the anxious twists that’s been eating at you for months. you’re still waiting on another possible opportunity for the second half of summer, but now you’re scared if that falls through, all you’ll have is nanami’s friend’s uncle as a connection..
[12:52PM] you: thanks🥹🙏
[12:53PM] hiromi higuruma: how long is ur program?
[12:53PM] you: till the last week of july so js two-ish more weeksss
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: u need a vacation after
[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT
[12:54PM] you: it is in the works🫡 my friends r planning it
[12:55PM] hiromi higuruma: where r u guys going?
you pause, lips parting.
[12:56PM] you: oh….i forgot
[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?
[12:56PM] you: no frrr shoko just told me to block off the dates but i actually forgot where we’re going bc they were planning it for awhile and i was too busy to pay attention
you cringe, trying to remember where shoko said satoru’s infamous mediterranean summer house is. either way higuruma responds with a cool message, unbothered by your lack of remembrance.
[12:57] hiromi higuruma: well it’s clear u need that vacation then
[12:57PM] you: 😪✊
you don’t realize you’ve basically been standing on your phone for awhile until a resident passes by, eyes flicking down.
“put the phone away before I tell your dad,” he mutters, and though the “joke” has been tossed around multiple times by the residents who know exactly what your relationship is with the chief of surgery, it doesn’t make it any funnier when you heard it the first time or the hundredth time —
your jaw tenses, glancing at your phone to see higuruma’s text.
[12:58PM] hiromi higuruma: make sure to stop in the city after tho and text me ahead of time
[12:58PM] you: i willlll
you shut your phone off, exhaling sharply as your head tips back. at this point…the only thing you’re looking forward to now is this trip. considering the second half of your summer is delayed after pushing this meeting back. and from the looks of it…you highly doubt you’re getting accepted into those writing programs.
“great,” you mutter to yourself.
your feet finally drag you away from the wall, and down the hall. unfortunately the pressure on your chest doesn’t leave, instead your mind quietly moves in circles as you continue the day’s work. unable to remove yourself completely from the stress of your future.
you smile at patients when they greet you. you laugh when shoko mutters something inappropriate under her breath. you still finish your notes, answer questions, make coffee runs, and remember to ask people how their weekends were. nothing is wrong enough for anyone to pull you aside and ask if you’re okay because you’re not falling apart. you’re just…tired. there’s a heaviness that sits beneath your ribs and makes everything feel harder than it should.
even when you check your phone during lunch. your conversation with higuruma sitting near the top of your messages. another month of waiting. another month of this feeling. you lock your phone just as someone calls your name, answering immediately.
it all keeps moving, dragging you along. the routine sucking you in. driving home as shoko talks from the passenger seat about the residents. about a movie she wants to watch. about a patient that yelled at her. about her not fully confident about her mcat studying methods. you nod and laugh, chiming in.
that’s how it goes in the mornings. driving at six am, music playing softly through the speakers. your eyes randomly burning behind your sunglasses, making you blink, unable to stop the tears from gathering for no apparent reason other than you can shake this heaviness on your chest. but it’s easy to wipe beneath your eyes during the red light. shoko doesn’t notice.
even at home, your sister asks how your day is, if you ate, how dad is, and you answer shortly without much thought. jennie watches you for a moment longer. her eyes lingering, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something before deciding against it. especially when you quietly play with yazzy now. playing with her barbie’s clothes in silence, clearly not fully present, but still able to pull a smile for your niece.
“fix her hair now!” yazzy shoves another barbie in your hand, the gum stuck to the ends making you scowl.
“why is there candy all over them?” you lightly scold, making yazzy cover her face with a doll, bashful and guilty.
“it was an accident!” she giggles, making you tsk lightly, giving her a faux disappointed look which earns you another loud giggle from her.
jennie quietly watches from the living room, eyes softening. she’s been gone for some time, but her concerns are present, so when shoko walks into the kitchen, her attention shifts momentarily.
“question,” jennie glances at the brunette. shoko hums, looking over her shoulder from the fridge. “how upset is she? because she’s working with our dad?”
shoko glances at you in the living room, the tv playing masking the conversation in the kitchen. “she hates it.”
jennie hums, looking down at her nails. “she said that?”
shoko nods, “she takes it on the chin though, but yeah…she hates it. she usually complains then feels guilty for complaining.”
that seems to twist something inside jennie, her jaw clenching. “yeah…she’s an idiot.” she mutters, hand rubbing her face. “there’s only so much you can tell her and she still won’t listen.” jennie stands straight. “it’s her life.”
shoko doesn’t respond. instead watching as jennie calls her daughter to head back to the hotel, and once they leave the house quiets, and you’re left alone with yourself.
you brush your teeth while staring into the bathroom mirror, foam gathering at the corners of your mouth as your reflection stares back. the faucet runs as you tilt your head. you look the same…same face, eyes, person — there’s no visible proof that anything is changing beneath your skin. but…you wonder if everyone else feels this way. is everyone secretly mourning versions of themselves they haven’t even become yet. are they walking around pretending everything is okay too? do they also hate where the direction of their lives are heading? can they even see what path they’ve taken—
you spit into the sink, washing your face.
once you crawl into bed, your room finally settles, feeling the darkness press close. and once again, your chest tightens. you think about the mcats. about the future. about all the people your age collecting internships and recommendations and certainty. you think about your father’s anxieties of your future. your mother’s concern. jennie’s harsh words—
you turn onto your side…then your back…then your other side. then…your eyes sting.
the tears build on their own, as they always do. your throat drying as you feel the warm liquid slide onto the pillow. you’re not sobbing. you don’t even know what you’re crying over. nothings happened. but eventually, sleep takes you.
“are you excited for college?” “what are you majoring in?” “you’re going to be a doctor, right?” “isn’t your dad a really good surgeon? my dad wants me to go into med school, but i don’t think i have the patience.”
the high school girls are packed into the locker room before gym, voices bouncing off metal lockers and tiled floors. someone’s trying to braid their ponytail in the mirror. another girl is complaining about wanting to get out of this gym period.
“wait, did they release decisions yet?”
“can your dad help me out when i’m looking for an internship?”
“yeah, you always work for your dad, so it’s not fair.”
“i’m jealous.”
your seventeen year old brain can only laugh, “it’s not like that,” you say automatically. but your friends only seem to double down. marking all your “wins” on one person who isn’t you.
“must be nice having your whole life figured out.”
the pressure in your chest tightens. you blink. you’ve heard these conversations a hundred times, so you should be used to them by now. but something tight twists in your chest. your fingers fumble with the combination lock on your gym locker. the metal slipping beneath your hands.
“you okay?”
“yeah,” your voice comes out too fast. you try again. however, it becomes harder to breathe, your vision blurring around the edges.
“shit!” your friend moves back just as you hit the lockers, falling to your knees as you grab your chest. is this a heart attack? people have heart attacks. can a high schooler have one? your dad would know—
“i can’t breathe.” the words tear out of your throat. your heart pounds harder, your fingers feel tingly and your head lightheaded.
“i can’t breathe.” you try again. nothing is coming out. air won’t come in. your hands shake violently, chest twisting.
“someone get the nurse!”
“she’s crying—”
you don’t feel the tears spill down your face before you even realize you’re crying. your chest hurts, your head spins, and the girls crowd around you.
—
the week leading up to the trip moved strangely, it was slow. the days blurred together as each individual hour stretched.
sukuna picked up more shifts at the bar, the smell of beer and musk clinging to his clothes long after he got home. when he wasn’t working, he was on the field by the beach, shirt sticking to his back beneath the summer sun as he played against whoever was willing to challenge him. usually it was gojo and geto. sometimes yuuji joined him, always laughing, but sukuna could feel the subtle shift. the kid lingered less…asked fewer questions, and as close as he is with gramps, even he wasn’t telling wasuke the full answer. and that was starting to make sukuna a little on edge.
then there was choso. it was inevitable after their argument. choso went out of his way to avoid his older brother and buried himself in rehearsals for the upcoming semifinals, spending more nights at ino’s, then with yuuji or gramps.
meanwhile, you’ve settled deeper into a routine. the hospital shifts, and early mornings that made you want to claw your eyes out. the drives with shoko that always eased you a bit. but then there was the wedding that jennie came for. and every aunt and family friend had something to ask. was there anyone special? were you talking to someone? how is it going into your senior year of undergrad? had you started studying for the mcat? have you taken the mcat yet?
your mother brushed them off, while your sister laughed because dating felt like the last thing on your mind. you smiled through it all, even as your stomach twisted tighter with every question you couldn’t answer honestly.
and then there was your father. he’d become quieter after the incident in the staircase, polite but distant in a way that unsettled you more. is he disappointed you aren’t taking the mcat yet? did one of the residents say something about your performance? you don’t ask. you just keep the questions with you, swirling in your mind whenever you see him.
none of the stress eases. not even when you quietly see sukuna in gojo’s ig stories. not even when yazzy tries to teach you and shoko a new dance move she’s learning. not even when your sister finally heads to the airport. none of it seemed to scratch that itch that kept your mind loud and irritating.
“did you get any sleep?” shoko pulls her shirt off, slipping into her scrubs. you stifle a yawn, shaking your head as you pull your scrub pants up. shoko yawns along with you, but exhales loudly afterwards. shaking her hands as she gives you smile. “last day though!”
your lips part, eyes widening, “oh snap.” and maybe that was what you needed because you’re suddenly smiling with shoko, laughing as you look at your phone. “last day!”
shoko hums, smiling wider as you both start dancing. and that definitely could be considered the longest, and best day of your week. and before you can blink, you’ve packed your suitcases and kissed your mom goodbye as she drops you and shoko off at the airport.
and with full unbridled honesty, you knew the best part of this trip was the excuse of being away from everything and everyone, and that’s what you’ve convinced yourself is what you need.
even after hours trapped in a middle seat, struggling to fall asleep, awkwardly folding yourself away from the men occupying both armrests beside you, you endure it. by the time the plane lands, your eyes burn with exhaustion and dark circles sit beneath them. the warm air greets you outside carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen.
you and shoko collect your luggage in a daze, exchanging tired glances until your attention catches on a sharply dressed man near the exit, holding a sign with both your names.
and that’s when your oasis begins.
the drive stretches along the coastline, blue water glittering beneath the afternoon sun. the mediterranean houses blur past the windows. shoko rests her cheek against her fist while you stare outside, feeling something inside your chest tighten again. what’re you even taking a vacation for?
you turn the corner into the neighborhood and your jaw drops. a villa sits at the end of the hillside like something straight out of a movie, and beyond the property is the ocean stretching endlessly, waves crashing.
“…you’re kidding,” you breathe.
shoko lets out a low whistle, stepping out of the car, “i forgot how disgustingly rich he is.”
the front doors slide open before either of you can fully process the sight, grabbing your suitcases.
“well, well, well!”
of course, the first thing you see is satoru gojo. he stands at the entrance wearing nothing but black swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his white hair, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming royalty into his kingdom. his skin is slightly tanned, abs glistening, and veins crawling up his forearms.
“took you guys long enough,” he announces obnoxiously. “i’ve been suffering all alone.”
“you’ve been posting pool pictures for three days with everyone,” shoko deadpans.
“but we’re still missing people,” gojo rebuts.
shoko laughs despite herself, stepping forward to wrap him in a quick hug. gojo squeezes her dramatically before turning his full attention toward you, who’s still dragging your suitcase across the polished floors, gaze darting between the towering ceilings, the sweeping staircase, and the ocean visible through the open living room.
“…what the hell,” you murmur. “this is insane.”
gojo’s grin somehow widens, “i know.”
you finally look at him properly, “thanks for letting me join,” you say, sincerity slipping into your voice before you can stop it. “seriously.”
for a brief moment, he looks genuinely touched, then— “well, it’s the least i can do,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “i’ll just need significantly more praise from you and sho for being such a generous, handsome host—”
“sure,” you cut him off easily, making him pout. but you finally step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a greeting hug anyway. “thank you, satoru.”
the complaint dies in his throat. “you’re welcome,” he says quickly but sounding almost suspicious of your sincerity before recovering instantly. “see? this is why you’re my favorite guest.”
“sure,” you sarcastically hum. “I’m just guessing you say that to everyone.”
“i do not.”
“you literally called utahime your favorite yesterday on facetime,” shoko points out.
“that was an obvious lie,” gojo shrugs.
“you definitely told geto he was your favorite,” shoko adds quickly.
gojo points, “he’s my favorite best friend.”
you glance between them, exhausted laughter bubbling out of you despite the lingering ache behind your eyes. sunlight pouring through the windows.
your suitcase stands forgotten by the doorway. somewhere outside, waves crash against the shore. and as gojo continues arguing with shoko about favoritism while leading you deeper into the villa. more people start coming into view.
“ahhh!! finally!!” a familiar voice booms, suddenly seeing a blur before you’re being engulfed in a hug by utahime. “it’s been hell with just these guys!”
gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why don’t you go ogle yuno, you perv—“
the harsh slap to his bare arm shuts him up, utahime glaring at him as she looks over her shoulder. luckily, yuno was still chatting loudly with nanami and some other guy you weren’t familiar with.
geto takes the attention as he steps in from the front door, sunglasses on and hair tied in bun. a smile immediately comes to his face when he spots more people. “it’s finally starting to feel like a vacation.”
you and shoko are taken upstairs. your suitcases bump softly against the polished tile floors as gojo launches into an overly detailed tour that neither of you retain, and something shoko’s already heard before.
but what you do manage to take in is how the villa becomes even more breathtaking the more you see of it. the arched doorways connecting the rooms, the patterned tiles lining the hallways, and carved wooden accents softening the stone walls. the villa held about eight bedrooms, and you and shoko barely process the number before finding yourselves in your room—or rather, your suite.
utahime’s presence is immediately obvious. her clothes are draped over the armchair near the balcony doors, makeup bag open across one of the dressers, bikinis and dresses laying on two of the beds, and several pairs of shoes already claimed near the closet.
“she really made herself at home,” shoko mutters.
you hum softly, too distracted by the room itself. two queen-sized beds sit beneath the exposed wooden beams, white linen curtains swaying every time the wind passes through the open balcony doors. the adjoining layout gives the three of you more than enough space, and the balcony utahime had apparently secured for the girls stretches across the back of the villa.
you wander to the open balcony before you can stop yourself, curious as to what the view is. warm air brushes against your dampened skin from the journey, but you’re immediately welcomed by the scent of salt and blooming flowers. below, you see the large pool, and then past the trees that circle the property, are terracotta rooftops of other villas, then the coastline in the distance. you can see the ocean glittering invitingly.
eventually, you peel yourself away making your way to the shower, washing away the hours of sticky travel air. the warm water loosens the knots in your shoulders, the steam clouding the mirror. by the time you emerge in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, toweling your hair dry, your body feels impossibly heavy.
the room is empty. you can hear shoko and the rest of the group outside from the open balcony. but all you can manage to do is walk across the tiled floor, barely managing to crawl onto the bed to turn of your phone alarm. your eyes struggling to stay open as you uncap your bottled water and swallow your scheduled pill. and once it goes down your throat, you toss the birth control pills back in your bag, and hit the warm sheets. you sink into the mattress with a relieved sigh.
the balcony doors remain open. the breeze filtering through the curtains. setting sun painting soft patterns across the tiled floor. and somewhere between one blink and the next, lulled by the sound of the ocean just beyond the villa walls, the exhaustion from everything finally catches up to you.
your eyes eventually drift shut.
unaware of what’s taking you so long, shoko and utahime go upstairs after an hour, freezing once they see you passed out.
“what the—“ utahime frowns. “we’re gonna go out to eat, wake up—“
utahime’s words die feeling shoko tug her out of the room.
“just let her sleep,” shoko cuts. “she’s been stressed for weeks, and i feel bad.” shoko’s voice is much softer, eyes down as utahime glances at her expression, then at the closed door.
“did something happen?” utahime’s brows are pinched.
shoko steps away from the door, shrugging, “I dunno,” a beat passes. “her sister just told me she doesn’t sleep well when she’s stressed, so just to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t drink too much if she’s still, like,” shoko tries to find the right words. “funky, I guess. so like…this is a good chance for her to catch up on her sleep and relax a bit.”
utahime nods, immediately. “for sure. I’ll keep an eye on her too then— and we can help her destress in these next two weeks!—“ utahime suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth after she basically shouted.
shoko chuckles, but hums along.
the two had the right idea leaving you to sleep. you knocked out for the rest of the day, and by the time you wake up, the sun is only a few minutes from rising. you were slightly confused, having slept for so long. groggy, you sit up and blink around the unfamiliar room. the pale morning light filters through the open balcony doors, the curtains shifting softly with the breeze. and once you see the two other people sleeping in the room, you realize where you are.
utahime is asleep beside you, laying on her side hugging her pillow. shoko is sprawled across the other queen bed like a starfish, blanket tangled around her legs.
and you simply sit there, still waking up, until your stomach starts growling. you rub your eye, reaching for your phone, happy someone had put it in the charger.
6:02 a.m.
“…damn” you mutter to yourself, you hadn’t eaten since the shitty airplane food. careful not to wake either of them, you slide out of bed and slip out of the room.
the villa is quiet in that way when everyone’s still asleep. it’s peaceful and calming. you notice a few abandoned glasses still sitting on the kitchen island from the night before. some half-finished bags of chips on the counter and couches. through the open doors, the warm morning air drifts inside carrying the scent of the ocean.
gojo’s pretty rich to not care that all the back doors are wide open, you think.
you rummage through the mediterranean style kitchen until you find bread, cold cuts, cheese, and enough ingredients to throw together a decent sandwich. then with a plate in hand, phone tucked beneath your arm, you wander outside. the backyard overlooking the hillside below, terracotta rooftops spilling toward the ocean in the distance. the pool reflects the pale pinks and oranges beginning to stretch across the sky. and you settle onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. your legs curl beneath you as you scroll mindlessly through your phone between bites of your sandwich.
it’s nice and quiet, and your shoulders sink further into the chair, slowly beginning to force yourself into a vacation mindset. and because of that, you don’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps crossing the brown tiled floors.
what you suddenly hear, mid-scroll, is a heavy unexpectedly loud thud of a duffle bag hitting the ground startling the living hell out of you. your heart hitting your ribs.
“…what the fuck?!”
you yelp entire body jerking, nearly tumbling off the chair as your heart launches straight into your throat. you’re still holding your sandwich, immediately whipping around to see the perpetrator.
and standing in the middle of the living room. black soccer shorts hanging low on his hips, a loose black t-shirt stretching across his shoulders. a cap resting in one hand, headphones around his neck. suitcase standing beside him, and a worn-in duffle bag abandoned at his feet….is sukuna.
he looks like he just got off a flight, slightly sweaty, slightly irritated, slightly exhausted, and unbelievably attractive. his scowl is already in place from being startled by the scream, but then he pauses once he sees you.
his eyes drag over your messy sleep-tangled hair, oversized shirt, bare legs tucked awkwardly beneath you on the lounge chair, and the bite of your sandwich still sitting in your mouth as you slowly chew. the edge of his expression shifts, not quite a smile, but something softer than his scowl.
“…the fuck are you screaming for?” he asks.
you stare at him, chewing the rest of your sandwich that flew out when your screamed. he stares back.
“…you look a mess,” you finally say through your bite.
his gaze flickers over you once more. “i think you’re looking in a mirror,” he replies flatly.
and just like that, sitting barefoot beside the pool at six in the morning with food in your mouth and your heart still hammering against your ribs, you can’t explain the way your shoulders ease a bit.
“asshole,” you reply with no bite. sukuna hums, sliding his backpack off and dropping his cap, headphones, and phone on top of his duffle before walking towards you. you swallow the bite you’d been chewing just for sukuna to kneel on the ground beside you, inspecting your sandwich.
“what is that?”
you glance at it, then down at him, your cheeks warming in seconds. he’s so close. “turkey, cheese, olives—“
“olives?” his large hand wraps around your hand, holding the sandwich.
you raise a brow, “yeah, it’s good—wha!” your eyes blow wide when he suddenly takes an obnoxiously large bite out of your sandwich. “what the hell!” you shove his shoulder back, making him loose his balance and catch himself on his annoyingly big arm, but it was too late. he’s chewing your sandwich, as you frown. “you didn’t even ask.”
“y’ didn’t look like you’d give me a bite if I asked,” sukuna speaks with his mouth full.
you scowl, “obviously, it’s mine. you can make your own, tch.”
sukuna continues chewing, still sitting back on his arm, eyes heavy as he stares up at you from your spot on the lounge chair.
you frown right back at him. even half-awake, with travel exhaustion weighing down your limbs, your expression pinches in annoyance. your brows pull together, nose wrinkling slightly, and your grip tightens around your sandwich.
his gaze lingers, “your eyes are bloodshot,” he finally says. you blink at him. “did y’ get any sleep?”
you take another pointed bite before answering, glaring at him over the edge of your sandwich, “yeah, actually. i slept the second i got here and missed dinner,” you narrow your eyes. “which means the first thing i’ve eaten since yesterday is the sandwich you freaking stole.”
sukuna scoffs, “dramatic.”
“you took half of it!” you screech lowly.
“that’s not half.”
“you have no idea what half means.”
his eyes drift downward before returning to your face. you’re sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair, turning slightly away from him now as you continue eating, subtly trying to finish it before he tries to take another bite. which he probably would do, just seeing the way he’s eyeing it.
sukuna feels a quiet tug beneath his ribs. the morning sun finally stretches over the horizon, painting gold across the pool water and catching against your soft skin. you’re still grumbling under your breath as you chew.
“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter.
he pushes himself up a little straighter beside your chair, his calloused palm rests on your bare thigh. “one more bite?” he asks.
you let out a humorless laugh, “yeah, as if.”
he lifts a brow, squeezing your thigh, “c’mon I’m starving. the plane’s breakfast was ass.”
“make your own then,” you say through another mouthful, keeping your free hand against his shoulder to keep him at arm’s length. he glances down at it, then back up at you.
annoyance flickering across his face. “seriously?”
you glance between his eyes, swallowing and taking another bite, “yeah.”
“one more bite.”
“there’s barely any left though,” you whine, keeping his shoulder back as he tries to get closer. but he clicks his tongue before wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist, pulling your palm away from his shoulder with little effort.
“selfish,” he mutters.
you nearly choke. “selfish?” you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. “you’re tryna steal my breakfast.”
“whatever,” he scowls, still holding your wrist. “I’m hungry.”
“ryomen.”
“what?”
“make your own sandwich.”
he stares at you. you stare back. then, without warning, he reaches for your wrist that holds your sandwich, making you gasp loudly, using your legs now to keep your bodies apart. “don’t—“
your free hand wiggles in his grip while he leans over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as your horrified complaints echo through the otherwise peaceful sunrise. your body struggles as he takes control, easily manuring himself onto the lounge chair, your knee keeping him away, as the other squirms to move between your body, but hanging loosely around his torso.
“ryo pleasee,” your whine rings so clearly, he can’t contain the flip in his stomach. he stops.
your chest is rising and falling from the struggle, anxiously glancing at him, brows pinched expecting him to pull your wrist to his mouth, but he remains still. staring down at you. then at your lips. then back at your eyes.
and suddenly, your legs are loosening, heart beating against your ribs, and letting sukuna fit himself comfortably between your legs. his hand holding your free hand, carefully brushes beneath your jaw before settling against the side of your neck. it’s warm and familiar. the morning breeze lifts strands of your hair across your face, and for a second, neither of you move.
waves crash in the distance. birds calling out in the pale sky. sunlight spilling over the terrace, painting soft lines across the sharp planes of sukuna’s face. his eyes don’t leave yours, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warming a deep spot in your tummy.
“you good?” you whisper eventually, voice smaller than you intend.
his gaze flickers down again. your mouth, then back to your eyes. then groggy, and voice much deeper then before, he mutters… “been a minute.”
your stomach flips. wetting your lips unconsciously, and sukuna’s eyes sharpen at the movement, barely blinking before you feel his firm lips against yours.
the breath leaves his lungs in a quiet rush. there’s a desperation hidden beneath the steadiness he tries so hard to maintain. but his hand tightens ever so slightly where it rests against you.
your lips move in sync like muscle memory. it’s familiar and instinctive. your fingers drift upward, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck before settling against his scalp. he releases a gentle exhale against your mouth at the contact, making your pulse stumble. sukuna leans closer without realizing it, his broad shoulders block out the morning sun as he deepens the kiss. your lips part on instinct, welcoming his tongue.
you can’t explain the urge that grows inside you the longer you kiss. the make out feels unbelievably calming, his grip tight around the lounge chair above your head, his knees digging into the seat, and his tongue swallowing your moans that have his pulse stuttering. your nails scratch at his scalp, threading through the pink locks digging gently.
“you taste like my sandwich,” you murmur with a clipped tone, tongue kissing his as he hums.
“yeah, fuck if I care,” he so easily brushes off the attitude to kiss you again. there were only two bites of your sandwich left, but you still held on to it, even as sukuna skillfully traced your bottom lip with his tongue. his hips lowering just to press his semi-bulge right against your clothed cunt, and that was enough to note the way your breath catches.
he can’t put into words how much his body needed you. just seeing you when he first walked in after his shit flight had his chest twisting, and now, kissing you…he feels every second relieving the weight on his shoulders.
your nails scratch at his scalp, tugging gently just to have him pull away, his eyes watching the way you catch your breath. lips all pretty and wet from him. eyes slightly dazed as you stare up at him, face lit softly with a healthy glow that has him leaning down again. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your bottom lip, caressing your tongue as it meets again.
“you didn’t send me any more pics,” he mutters.
your cheeks flush, nails caressing his nape. “you didn’t ask for more.”
“it should be unspoken.”
you snort, leaning closer when he pulls away, “it’s not now.”
sukuna grumbles, jaw ticking for a moment until your lips find each other again, your legs wrap around his torso, letting him put his weight on top of you, unbothered by the plane’s air that still clings to him. “give me a bite of the sandwich,” he mutters, trailing his lips down to your neck. and even if it’s been weeks, he still finds your sweet spot in seconds, nipping at it. your breath catches in your pretty throat, whining shyly when he licks the spot again with his warm tongue.
“no,” you say, managing to take another bite, doing your best to chew it as fast as you can, even with the bread being so thick, sukuna catches your wrist again. your eyes widen, watching him move your hand to his open mouth, taking the last bite.
you groan with a mouth full, eyes harsh as they glare up at him. the two of you chewing all the while his hand finds its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin.
“is it too hard for you to make a sandwich?” you speak with your mouth full, swallowing bites but still chewing.
“yeah, it is,” he replies coolly.
your brow twitches in irritation. but you still can’t help the way your gaze lingers. it’s been almost two months, and somehow he looks exactly the same. however, his salmon hair has grown out just enough to brush against the nape of his neck, it’s slightly damp from the warm weather. his shoulders seem broader than you remember, his t-shirt stretching across his frame. his veins stand out beneath his sun-bronzed forearms, hands rough and familiar where they rest against the lounge chair and your bare waist.
even sitting there, lazy and half-awake from travel, there is something unfairly imposing about him. it’s all familiar, but it could be the distance apart that has you pointing out the sharp tattoos again, the intimidating size difference, and the quiet confidence of him, painfully aware of what his body does to you.
your eyes drift over the dark tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his beefy thighs crowding the edge of the chair when he shifts, solid beneath his worn soccer shorts. he’s inconveniently attractive, stealing your sandwich like a jerk, familiar arrogance seeping with each glance your way, and his typical scowl…but still, your fingers almost ache with the remembered habit of tracing his inked skin beneath your fingertips, wanting to hear the low huff he’d give you in response.
you don’t miss him…but you do miss this pull of wanting someone who always feels just out of reach, but still appears right in front of you when you need him most.
“good-fuckin’-sandwich,” he finally swallows, licking his lips. he leans down with little effort, and high confidence, pressing his lips to yours again. body moving on top of you, rolling his hips down just to hear your little hiccup, your hand suddenly presses against his shoulder, pushing. he barely moves, but he does pause, pulling away enough to keep his face hovering close. “what? you mad I took the last bite?”
you roll your eyes, ready to respond when your stomach suddenly pierces the air with a loud grumble.
the sound has the frat boy freezing, glancing down. your lips part, cheeks flaring, glancing away as sukuna sits up just a little. “you seriously didn’t eat anything?”
“I told you I haven’t eaten,” you tsk, cheeks inflamed from the sound, desperately trying to ignore the caresses of sukuna’s hand under your shirt, thumb brushing your torso, suddenly pushing the material of t-shirt higher revealing more of your torso.
the air grows awkwardly uncomfortable, neither of you saying a word, and him not responding has you growing slightly more aware of the position he has you in. you don’t want to address it, you seriously, strongly, want to ignore how he’d just made himself comfortable with touching you after being apart for weeks. but that sudden thought as you pushing yourself up.
your hand climbs up his chest, curling your fist around his collar. and with little resistance, you tug him towards you.
“I’ll make another sandwich,” you mutter, your pretty chest rising with each breath. “you can keep kissing me…” his eyes flick between yours, they’re heavy with either exhaustion, lust, or both, but then you whisper the precious words he’s been dreaming of hearing this close, with your warmth wrapping around him, and your scent making his head spin… “please, ryo.”
his lips twitch up, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close from under your shirt. then your heart skips a beat. his head tucks down to your shoulder, burying his face there, pulling you to his chest.
your lips part, cheeks burning hot as he hugs you closer. his fingers dig possessively around your waist, bicep flexing around.
the summer breeze wraps around you. heart beating aggressively against your chest. fingers twitching trapped between your bodies, his hot breath fans against your neck. seagulls fly above you, the sky clear as day. but none of it can be fully processed, not when sukuna is hugging you like it’s been years since you’ve seen each other.
“r—“ you stop yourself when a warm kiss is pressed against your neck. then another. his hand brushes up and down your warm torso, making you always aware of his presence. slowly trailing kisses up your neck, subtly inhaling more of your flowery scent.
his cheeks sting, and he feels the heat crawl up his neck as his bulge grows harder. but he doesn’t stop peppering your burning skin with wet kisses. he pays a certain spot with more attention, sucking just a bit harder, smiling subtly when he hears your cute hiccup-like-moan.
“y’know,” he mutters against your skin, sucking another light hickey on your pretty neck, barely noticeable. he doesn’t wait for you to respond, your fingers twitching at his waist, holding his shirt. “I’ve been thinking’ bout how you got naked in your car,” your cheeks sting as the memory resurfaces quickly. “and how you fingered this pussy ‘cause I asked ya too,” you don’t have to look at him to hear the devilish smile he’s sporting. “then you fucking knocked over the phone when you came.”
your lips part in a quiet gasp, “it was an accident—“
he tsks, “still.” you blush. “I wanted to see it.” his hand brushes higher, unbothered by how he’s pushing your shirt up, revealing your lower back to the warm air. your skin is just so soft under his rough palm, and you fit perfectly against him. “you’ve been teasing me.”
your eyes go wide, “me?!—haah—“
the moan has your face bursting into flames, his teeth sink into your neck. your hand finding its way to his bicep, nails digging in, as he licks the mark he leaves. his lips skim up your neck, warm breath fanning gently until your lips are parting to inhale the same air.
“yeah, you,” his eyes flick over your lips. “with that call, and the one before that, and your photo.” he wets his bottom lip, a sinister smirk exposing his sharp canines. and in that moment you feel like he’d swallow you whole any second. “and now you’re lounged out here waiting for me.”
that’s when a a loud scoff leaves your lips. cheeks aflame. “as if. I didn’t even know when you were coming. it’s a coincidence.”
a disbelieving hum resounds from his throat. “so you were camped out here in these little shorts,” he tugs the hem of your shorts. “and this shirt wearing nothing underneath, for who then?”
you raise a brow, amused by him, forearm casually resting on his shoulder as you look back at him. “would you believe me if I said it was for me?”
he clicks his tongue.
you hum, glancing away for entertainment, free hand coming up to your chin. sukuna sits still, surprisingly patient, almost like you both have all the time in the world. it was unnervingly attractive. but you still decide to tease him, amused by the thought so you say it.
“then it was for satoru.”
and the moment that name leaves your lips, the reaction is far from what you’ were expecting. sukuna’s once calm features shift into a sudden disgusted scowl. the expression catches you so off guard that you suddenly burst out laughing, right in his face.
“fuck outta my face,” he spits.
you laugh even louder, hand coming up to your mouth trying to control yourself. “what? you don’t believe me?”
your push has sukuna rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. “playin’ in my face.”
“pleaseeee,” you cackle, adjusting yourself higher, waving a hand in front of him. “I was—I meant to say it’s for suguru.”
you visibly see the twitch in his eye, and that has you laughing louder hitting his chest as your head falls back. “I’m DEAD, you’re actually killing me!!” your laughing is so loud it irks him how much you’re getting a kick out of his reaction. he also ignores how cute your stupid laugh is after not hearing for so long. “cmon, it’s no biggy, wearing this skimpy little thing for my suguru.”
“your suguru,” sukuna spits back, disgust laced in every word.
you nod, bitting your top lip as you hold in your laughter, even if your eyes are laughing. “it makes sense, since me and him are sharing a room.”
his body suddenly goes dead still. “you’re fucking with me.”
his tone has you laughing louder, unaware how much that bothered the footballer. “you don’t believe me?”
sukuna rolls his eyes, loosening his jaw as he exhales through his nose. “daamn, relax ryo.” you coo, hand coming up to squish his cheeks. “tough month? you can’t take my little jokes anymore?” your faux pout has him scowling immediately, but his cock jumps at the expression.
“ragebait,” he mutters. you softly snort, smile lighting up your face, then your pretty head tilts for him. so fucking pretty.
“aww, that wasn’t my intention,” you coo.
the lie has sukuna scoffing, eyes flickering between your insincere doe eyes, and it tickles an itch deep in his core. “I was just playing with you,” you playfully squish his cheeks again, watching the way his lips purse together. he’s so cute.
his hands rest on your waist, staring straight into your eyes, and he unknowingly allows you to mess with him. enough that a string tugs at his chest.
“you mad?” your lips part slightly when he doesn’t respond, your eyes still holding a playful spark in them.
“yeah.”
it was a detectable lie that has your pretty lips pulling into a smile you can’t control. “yeah?” you’ve seriously grown confident in your time apart, and it’s unbelievably attractive. “but I thought it was pretty funny. you can’t be mad about that, can you?”
your thumb brushes the morning shadow on his chin, the stubble beyond attractive. but sukuna is too busy clicking his tongue at you to notice the way you’re checking him out whilst pushing his buttons. “I can. do you see me laughing with ya?”
you purse your lips, smile spilling out wide. you shake your head, then you push yourself up. your pretty legs are loose around his hips, your fingers gently curling under his chin, wetting your bottom lip with a soft hum.
“I don’t,” your voice is low, sweet. his jaw tenses slightly, waiting for you to act, and surprisingly you catch it. and you start smiling again. “you’re so patient, ryo.”
his breath catches, covering it with a loud, offended scoff. “maybe finish your sentences,” he snaps. “y’ keep fucking trailing off.”
you smile, leaning close to his face. breath warm against his lips. “I just answered you though,” you trail off again, purposefully. your lips hover over his, slowing your breath, lashes fluttering like a subtle seductress. and it works. he leans closer, wanting your warmth to encompass him even more. his cheeks a stained dark pink as you exhale softly. “you just like listening to me…don’t you?”
your smile is unbelievably beautiful, but his remains still, glaring at you through his dark lashes. his thick brow quirks. “i don’t remember ya being this cocky,” he mutters and there isn’t much heat behind the insult.
your smile only widens, “I didn’t realize how easy you make it,” you coo softly.
his brow twitches, “don’t flatter yourself.”
“mm.” your fingers drift along the collar of his shirt, eyeing the tattoos that peak, then meeting his crimson gaze again. “too late.”
the morning breeze curls around the two of you, the scent of salt and sunscreen drifts through the quiet villa. the pool glitters behind him and still, neither of you moves away.
his eyes drag over your expression, lingering on the curve of your smile and the amusement brightening your face. he’d spent weeks listening to your voice through a phone speaker, catching glimpses of you through photos and stories, and now that you’re here, he finds himself unable to take his hands off you.
you tilt your head. “what?” you ask, trying and failing to sound innocent.
“you’re annoying,” he cuts.
“but…” you lean closer, your lips brushing his, and he barely reacts. “you haven’t asked me to stop.”
something shifts behind his eyes. the confidence in your expression flickers for half a second, replaced by something softer, and something he sure as shit brushes away. but the teasing quiets just enough for his stomach to twist.
“tell me ryo,” you murmur quietly, voice just above a whisper. the sweetness drips into his ear like honey. his cock straining in his shorts, unable to control his body’s reaction to you. “you like being teased…right?”
his mouth twitches. “you fucking with me again?”
you slowly shake your head, staring into his eyes, twirling his hair around your finger. “you can tell me,” you tug at his hair lightly. “I don’t judge.”
he’s leaking for sure. the clear outline of his cock would be embarrassing if he wasn’t packing. and even with how obviously turned on he is, how flushed his ears are, and how blown his pupils have gotten. he still manages to hold his composure, and bite back a shit eating grin.
“cute,” his arm tightens around your waist, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. his bulge is pressing directly onto your shorts, and his sharp canines almost make him look animalistic. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”
you hum, dragging the sound in faux innocence, lashes batting up at him, almost making him release a pathetic noise. “what am doing? I thought I was creating a safe space for you,” you coo.
“don’t play dumb.”
you shrug, face still close, and fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, the other squeezing his bicep. “I’m not.“
and once your eyes glance over the scowl that flickers across his face, your unable to control your reaction. you laugh softly against the small space separating you, and the sound seems to snap whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to.
you make a startled sound against him, one that quickly melts into something softer when he kisses you harder than before. his brows knit together, expression caught between irritation and want.
he completely steals the breath from your lungs. all the teasing from the last several minutes dissolves into something far less careful. the laughter lingering on your lips disappears beneath the press of his mouth, your fingers tangling tighter in the ends of his hair as he forces his tongue to meet yours. and the moment your tongues make contact, a guttural groan comes from the back of his throat. the sound is muffled against your lips, but the way you feel the warmth pool between your legs is immediate.
he doesn’t care anymore. his mind has wrapped itself around you, the familiarity of your lips, the warmth of your body, and the soft edges of your aura, it all has him melting. and it doesn’t take long for him to press his fully erect cock right against your shorts. rutting.
a squeak escapes your pretty lips at the first roll of his hips. jaw falling agape at the stimulation. the sunrise paints everything gold around you, warm light spilling across the pool deck while the rest of the villa remains asleep. and as exhausted as sukuna is from his flight, he physically can’t stop his body from rutting into you like a dog in heat.
his tongue is thick and hot, slowly stroking your lips passionately until you’re meeting the wet muscle with your own. your whine is muffled, arms latched around his shoulders, as he hooks your leg over his arm, humping your clothed pussy.
“we should fuck,” he mutters between kisses, grinding even harder, stimulating his cock. “yeah?” his hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, kissing your bottom lip with haste. “everyone’s sleeping, I got a condom in my bag—“
a choked groan slips out of his throat when you tug his hair, his pupils twice their normal size. cheeks flushed a dark red, and his body unable to pull away from you. he doesn’t want to address how quickly you turn him on, or how much he craved your touch after being away from you for so long—no, none of it crosses the front of his mind when you’re under him, hands caressing his nape, lips glossy and swollen from kissing, and dark lashes batting up at him like you know everything. “you haven’t showered.”
he kisses down your neck, grinding slower, reminding you what he’s asking for. “I don’t smell that bad.” he unintentionally presses his face against your nape, inhaling. “fuck, but you smell so fucking good.”
your lips part momentarily, cheeks flushed. you feel him kiss the warm skin of your neck. he trails back to your lips, hand wrapping gently around your neck, tilting your chin up with a thumb, kissing you deeper, if possible.
it was a scene. and it was one that gojo was waking up to. his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, white hair sticking in every direction, as he wanders down the staircase in nothing but a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. one hand disappears beneath the hem of his shirt as he scratches absentmindedly at his chest, the other reaching automatically for the carton of orange juice waiting in the fridge.
the villa is quiet. the open screens let the morning breeze drift through the house, sunlight spilling across the floors and stretched toward the living room, where a duffle bag and suitcase had been abandoned carelessly near the entrance. gojo blinks, his gaze moves from the luggage to the open patio doors, then stops. “…oh.”
outside, beneath the morning blue sky, was a certain someone hidden behind one of the lounge chairs overlooking the pool, and sukuna was right on top of her. the two of you were obviously making out, his head bent toward yours, your hand buried somewhere near the ends of his pink hair, his broad shoulders blocking part of your frame from view, and his lower body was rocking against yours.
gojo stared, lifting the orange juice to his mouth, then lowering it. “…they’re still not dating,” he murmured to absolutely no one.
“what are you doing?” nanami’s voice breaks through the silence making gojo glance over briefly. fresh out of bed himself, nanami is halfway through pulling a shirt over his head, pajama pants slung low against his waist, catching a brief sight of his dark blonde happy trail, as he walks into the kitchen, following gojo’s line of sight. his steps slowed. “oh.”
gojo points toward the patio, “they’re not dating.”
nanami yawns, moving toward the fridge anyway.“i went to bed early,” he said. “did he get here last night?”
gojo shakes his head immediately, finally twisting the cap off the orange juice. “nope. he literally just got here. i got the notification from the security.” nanami pauses, glancing over his shoulder again, then toward the abandoned bags in the living room, then back outside.
“…they’re that comfortable with each other?” the question slips out before he can stop it.
gojo snorts, “or they’re just ridiculously attracted to each other,” he shrugs. “but they’re definitely not dating.”
nanami raises a brow thoughtfully. “did they not have sex with anyone else if they’re jumping each other like that now?” gojo tilts his head in genuine surprise. nanami’s eyes linger on the scene outside.
maybe it’s instinct or it the unmistakable feeling of being watched, because outside, sukuna’s gaze lifts. his sharp crimson eyes slide toward the villa without warning and land directly on the blue and honey-colored pair staring back at him from the kitchen. the silence stretches, until gojo slowly raises his carton of orange juice in greeting.
your brows quirk seeing sukuna’s suddenly pulling away and scowling over your shoulder. that’s when you decide to stick your head out, brows quirking at gojo and nanami both standing in the kitchen.
“didn’t mean to interrupt the streamy sesh,” gojo calls out casually, nanami glancing at him in annoyance. “you guys can continue.”
you snort, pressing a hand to sukuna’s chest, just for the hot head to sit back on his knees, glaring at his friends. “damn, but you kinda made me loose my appetite though,” you say stepping away from sukuna to stand up. his eyes follow you, jaw tightening as gojo cackles loudly from the house.
“whaaaat—but don’t you guys miss each other? I didn’t wanna ruin the reunion,” gojo lightly teases, unknowingly hitting a nerve as sukuna tsks, and you surprisingly raise a brow.
“you’re not ruining anything,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at sukuna who’s still sat on the lounge chair, hand over his bulge. “we were jus’ talking.”
gojo smirks, nodding sarcastically, “yeah, for sure. must’ve been the wind then.”
you sarcastically cringe, shrugging. “ah, must’ve been.” you don’t break a sweat as you walk further into the house passing by the boys as you make your way up the stairs, leaving them behind. and even with your heart beating erratically, and your face sweltering. you keep your composure until you’re out of sight.
as for sukuna…he remains seated, quiet, and unbelievably pissed off. nanami finds it slightly amusing, while gojo is snorting loudly. “that’s how much you wanna get in her pants—I just got the notification that you walked in and you’re already tryna fuck her—jeez.”
sukuna scowls, standing up. the irritation dripping from his being as he slips a hand into his shorts, tucking his erection up. “since when do you fucking cockblock me?” he snaps, walking into the house.
gojo’s hands fly up in defense, “you’re the ones that stopped. I was just drinkin’ my juice here.”
“he was watching,” nanami casually corrects, earning another shrug from gojo. sukuna clicks his tongue, and it prompts nanami to follow up with the only question swimming in his head. “are you guys dat—“
“no.”
the room falls silent.
sukuna picks up his duffle bag. his sharp eyes find the two men, and he utters his next words, with little thought, only wanting to end any further discussion on a subject he has little care to address with outsiders.
“we fuck. and I’m gonna fuck her again. and that’s my deal with her.”
his harsh tone is followed by a low whistle from the white haired man. and though sukuna walks away from them fully believing he put an end to whatever assumptions they insisted on making. because whatever existed between you and him has always been simple, physical, and convenient. except…
later that week, the simplicity shakes just a bit. when your arms lock around his torso, fingers twisting desperately into the back of his soaked shirt, refusing to let go. face pressed against his chest, eyes rimmed raw, breaths breaking apart into uneven pieces as your entire body trembles against him. the rain coming down harshly, drenching the quiet street and soaking through your skin and fabric.
and sukuna can only stare over your head into the empty street. his arms tighten around you without fully realizing what he’s doing it. his veins straining beneath his skin because you won’t stop shaking. your nails digging into him.
“don’t…” your voice is strained, the softness still shining through even in the state you’re in. “don’t push me away yet.”
his jaw clenches.
“please.”
a/n: watch you guys burn me alive after this. no joke, this shit was gonna be longer but I reached the line count limit on tumblr so I had to cut the scene short and add a sneak peak into next chapter.
chp 9 will have more yummy smut and angst. and I don’t wanna spoil, but *wink *wink, reader has been taking those birth control pills for a little over a month now 😛
...or it was, until you accidentally flashed his friends!
pairing: teacher!Geto x gf!reader
content: MDNI, au where Geto never defected, unprotected piv sex, flashing, spitting, doggy style, obligatory reader gets stuck porn trope oneshot LMFAO, established relationships, soft dom Geto ig, he's a lil possessive, implied taking photos during sex, creampie, guys it's just filthy
prompt sixteen from @egglain dickcember !! the absolutely GORGEOUS art by @zuunary (who everyone should go follow seriously) and divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!
There wasn't much you wouldn't do for your boyfriend.
Apparently that included discarding your dignity at the door, considering the fact you were currently wearing nothing under your skirt, the cold draft creeping through the broken window of his office more unforgiving than usual considering how much of you was left bare under the short, thin fabric.
Suguru was supposed to show twenty minutes ago.
But you couldn't exactly ask him where he was considering he didn't know where you were right now. Which was sitting in his chair, riffling through all the papers and notes of his desk (most of which were silly ones you'd stuck to his lunch, ones you guessed he'd peeled off and saved somewhere he thought you wouldn't see). The long coat and scarf you'd worn over your clothes here was thrown across of the opposing armchairs, but you were starting to consider throwing it back on before you froze half to death, starting to shiver, nipples already hardening and starting to poke through the your almost see-through shirt.
He probably just was finishing picking up some paperwork from Nanami or maybe held up by one of the students with a question after training. You sighed, the drawer rattling as you shoved it closed again, turning your attention to his little collection of fancy pens tucked in a souvenir cup Gojo had gotten him a few years ago. You'd probably blame Suguru's tardiness on him if he wasn't out on a solo mission a plane ride away.
It was stupid. Or just stupider than what you were currently doing, trying to twirl one of them on the tip of your finger just to send it flying into the corner of the room, watching it hit the wall and roll behind one of the filing cabinets lined up underneath the windows.
Trying to pull your skirt down to cover more than your ass when you walked over, squatting down to squint in the shadows just to discover it had rolled all the way back behind the middle filing cabinets out of your reach. Huffing, you struggled to pull out one of heavy metal rectangles, heaving to move it backwards until you had enough space to fit behind the first one.
The floor was clean, at least.
Getting down on your hands and knees, painfully aware of how exposed you were when you had to crawl to reach it, palm outstretched and about to close around the sleek metal of the pen when the door creaked opened.
"And then, I swear it-" The all-too-familiar sound of Gojo's rambling was cut off by what sounded like Nanami clearing his throat.
You might actually ask your boyfriend's best friend to hollow purple you.
You knew you needed to move. Wiggle out and try to cover yourself up before finding a hole to curl up and die from embarrassment in since you apparently just accidently flashed two of your longtime friends and coworkers.
"Get out."
Suguru's voice wasn't a warning, but a command, low and firm as the door suddenly slammed shut, the clock of the lock clicking into place. You hadn't even begun to shuffle backwards before the filing cabinet was suddenly pressed against your hip, cold metal pinning you between it and the wall.
Stuck.
"S-Sugu, I can't move," You stammered, every breath getting caught in your throat when you tried to move, but it wouldn't budge, trying to glance back over your shoulder at your boyfriend when there was barely any room.
"Uh-huh," He wryly murmured, closer than you expected.
It struck you after another second that he was the reason you couldn't move, that he pushed it to keep you stuck like this was some cheap porno. Your mind was already trying to think of a tagline before his palm grazed against the curve of your ass, your thighs already damp from the weight of his presence, the energy rolling off him in heated waves that seemed to sink and simmer into your stomach. The realization sinking in that you really were trapped and at his mercy.
"Care to explain this?" He spoke slowly, his words deceptively soft as his fingertips skimmed down to the inside of your thighs, phantom touches sending shivers down your spine.
"Your pen fell," You muttered, weakly wigging back into his hand, not really trying to escape, but his other hand landed on your hip, pushing up your skirt the rest of the way like he hadn't been able to get a full view from the moment he stepped in.
"Uh-huh," He repeated, a slow drawl to match the creep of his finger curling down to cup your cunt.
"D-did Gojo get back early?" You shivered as he suddenly rolled your clit carefully between two sturdy fingers, tsk-ing his tongue in disapproval.
"Why? You wanted to surprise him too?" Suguru dryly mocked, collecting the slick now dripping down your thighs before his hand pulled back, waiting until you whined at the absence of his heat to bring his palm down for a smack! you hoped they didn't hear down the hall.
"Don't act like you wouldn't love cu-" You yelped when he spanked you the second time, your own taunt cut off by the sharp sting of his fingers connecting with your clit.
Before you could react, you felt something wet hit your bare skin, barely registering the fact he just spit on your cunt for lube before his fingers were messaging the sore and swollen bud again, softer this time to soothe the pain and overwrite the pleasure.
"Y-you, fuck," You muttered, biting down on your lip, lost in what you were trying to say when you heard the sound of his belt hitting the ground, the rustle of clothing before something warm was nudged at your entrance, teasingly rubbing the thick head of his cock to watch you mindlessly try to grind back against it.
"You wanna try saying that again?" He hm-ed, like he didn't just want to hear you whimper trying to catch the tip against your entrance and edge it inside.
"You're such an a-"
Suguru shoved the first inches in to shut you up, a moan they definitely heard escaping your mouth at how easily he slipped in, pushing past the first bit of resistance to start inching forward.
"I'm sorry, baby, what's that?" He murmured, his hips hitting your ass when he buried himself in to the hilt, his honeyed voice making you shiver just as much as his tip smashing against your cervix was. He held it there, only moving to angle himself deeper.
All you could do was throb, pinned between the cabinets and the wall while he filled you up, not giving you the space to think of anything but him.
"You're being mean," You desperately mewled, one of his huge hands pushing your shirt up to trace an appreciative line up your spine, refusing to pull out like it was some petty punishment.
"You want me to be nice?" He chuckled, knowing the condescension only made you squeeze around him tighter, cling to him more.
"N-no," You reluctantly admitted.
He leaned in so his chest was pressed against your back, slipping his hand around to grip your throat, lightly applying pressure before his fingers drifted up until his thumb grabbed your chin, forcing you to crane your neck to the side to look back at him over your shoulder. You expected him to kiss you.
But he clicked his tongue.
"Open up, pretty girl," He murmured, and your compliance came without thinking. When his cock was currently stuffing you so full you couldn't do anything other than obey him.
Your lips parted from their pout, the seconds stretching before he forced your chin down, opening it wider so he could spit into your mouth before guiding it shut again, his cock throbbing inside you at the bob in your throat, the sight of your automatic swallow.
"Fuck," He groaned, angling the head of it even deeper, your whine at the stretch only making the fingers on your throat, his hold on your jaw tighten, trying to keep you in place until every last fucking centimeter was inside. "Made for me, you know that?"
"Mhm," You whimpered, sucking in a gasp, your throat still somehow dry, trying to squirm away? against? him with every little movement of his hips. "J-just you."
You'd been his from the moment you met him.
He released his grip, but the fingers holding up your hips dug in, his clipped nails creating tiny divots into your skin while his other hand quickly found it's way around the front to your clit, painting practiced circles like he wanted to make you cum as fast as possible. Hurtling you closer to the edge with each swift motion, ripping out broken little gasps from your throat, shattered cries of his name when you dug your own nails into your palm and chewed on your lip trying to hold it in.
"S-Sugu, I c-can't," You whined, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes, ready to spill over at any second. "Gonna cum."
"You can," His voice was so soft, deceptively sweet. You knew him though. It was an unspoken promise you'd get what he really wanted to give you later, that this was just the warm up.
"I, fuck," You still snapped though, unable to hold the strands of your sanity together when he had the scissors, unravelling under the pressure of his fingertips and the steady slams of his cock pumping inside you, a stray tear falling as white splotches filled your vision.
Thick cum spurting inside of you, a low groan leaving his throat when his thrusts became sloppy, finishing only a few seconds after you. Waiting until the last drops fell out before stuffing it back in with his thick fingers and pausing to admire his handiwork.
But even after he finished, he didn't help you out or even clean you up.
"Suguru?" Your voice was weak, whiny, cheeks starting to flush with embarrassment at him leaving you in that position.
"Hold on a second, sweetheart," He murmured, rubbing your ass appreciatively, but he sounded well, distracted.
"Seriously, Suguru?" You repeated, nervousness creeping in.
Then you heard the soft click! and registered the faint flash of his phone behind you.
"Sorry baby, just had to remind them who you're made for too."
in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have asked a question you didn’t want the answer to.
"soo… how many women have you even slept with?" you ask, slipping it into conversation since you were on the topic. you’ve been with toji for over two years now, you know about his past, you know he’s no saint — especially when it comes to women.
but you find yourself wondering far too often how many women your boyfriend has satisfied, how many women he’s had moaning his name whilst he fucks them stupid. the past is the past, you know that.
you just didn’t want to wonder anymore.
“you ain’t gonna like the answer,” toji responds, one arm around you as you sit curled up together on the couch in front of the TV.
you feel your stomach drop, heart beating faster in your chest. the thought of him with another woman makes you sick to your stomach — never mind possibly hundreds of them.
you begin to understand the saying "curiosity killed the cat.”
"…can you just give me a number?" you ask gingerly, unknowingly holding your breath as you await his answer. “didn’t know it mattered to you," he responds gruffly, eyes glued to the TV like this was some casual conversation.
you remove his hand from your shoulder, shuffling away a few inches with a faint pout on your face. you knew this was slightly unfair to him. he can’t change his past, but why wouldn’t he just tell you the number?
you finally catch his attention, hearing him huff as he turns to look at you. "cmon, doll. y’just askin’ shit you don’t wanna know." he pulls you closer again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
you move away again, still frustrated, digging yourself into a deeper hole. "but why can’t you just tell me?"
your older boyfriend sighs again, not so much in irritation, mainly because he knew any answer he gave you would upset you in some way.
“i don’t have a number to give you. not like i counted," toji says, pausing the TV to give you his full attention. he pats his lap invitingly, "cmere."
you hesitantly climb into his lap. two large hands find your hips, securing you there like you might run away. “don’t work y’self up over it. you’re the one who matters to me. not them."
you nod, leaning in and burying your face in toji’s neck, melting into his lap. he rubs your back reassuringly, kissing your temple.
you stay like that for a moment, safe in his arms, reminding yourself that you are the woman he loves — his past was practically meaningless. "m’sorry for getting jealous," you say quietly, breaking the silence.
"you’re hot when you’re jealous," he purrs, threading his fingers through your soft hair. "s’okay. gonna remind my pretty girl how much i love her," he adds, cock hardening beneath you.
a needy whine escapes you, two hands fisting the collar of his shirt. "please…"
he’ll fuck you until your intrusive thoughts were long gone — until you had no coherent thoughts left at all.
