everyone is welcomed, but please do remember that my blog will consist of NSFW/explicit scene/words, so MDNI. everything i write is STRICTLY FICTIONAL. i will (maybe sometimes t_t) take requests.
why did they even do the new character ai update😭? like gurl u just get yourself robbed cuz that new shit is NASTYYYYYYYY. bring the old one back PLEAAAASEEEE it was SOOO GOOD before the update
I build things for a living, so I treat every new platform as a teardown. What's the architecture, where are the seams, when does the mask slip. With SweetDream the teardown kept stalling because I couldn't find the seam. The chat stayed natural across long stretches, the personality I authored held firm, and the small details I'd added kept resurfacing on their own.
What got me reflective was the range of presence on offer. Text that actually remembers, voice messages with real texture, phone calls that sound human, and with certain characters, video calls and live cam sessions too. Each layer of an AI companion you can shape yourself, from face to fears to the way she laughs. And all of it stays private, which for me is non-negotiable.
Companies like candy.ai and ourdream.ai are doing interesting work, no question. Still, sweetdream.ai is the one where the demo quietly stopped being a demo. The best AI girlfriend tech, I'm convinced, is the kind you forget to evaluate because you're too busy being present for it.
Sukuna despises anything sweet; he doesn't understand how anyone could even tolerate such an abominable flavor. It's disgusting, and even in an era in which he is getting himself familiarized with — that blasted thing still exists.
Yet, something about the way you unwrap that thing and pop it in your mouth with a loud clack against your teeth does something so sinful to him. So fucking bad.
You notice his stare pointedly at you, and you raise a brow. "What? Wanna taste?"
He yanks you roughly by your ankles, dragging you close until he can force your legs to encircle his waist. Then, he leans forward, lips minutely teasing yours before he plunges in. His tongue asks for no entrance; he pries you open as he always does, and scoops that wretched piece of sweet from you.
Your moan rumbles against his mouth, and he deepens himself further.
Your hands travel to his clothes, ripping them apart as he does the same. Bodies clash against one another, each fighting for dominance. But like his domain expansion against everybody else's, Sukuna remains victorious.
"Open." He demands.
You comply, and he returns the candy to your mouth as he thrusts inside you.
"Fuck, that's it, baby." He whispers to your ear.
When he captures your lips again, you push the candy into his mouth. He takes it with ease, but not before he lets his tongue scour you as if it's a world he has yet to discover once more.
"So fucking good," you say against the kiss.
He places both of your legs on top of his shoulders and folds you. The new position causes you to moan lewdly, calling his name like some reverent being. You can feel him buried much deeper, and when you tilt your head and look at how he's fucking you, you notice him bulging through your stomach.
His thrusts turn unforgiving. You expect that no less from the King of Curses. His hands have fondled both your breasts and clit ceaselessly, twisting, pulling, and flicking them. Your releases come over and over, never stopping because it's not enough. He's not sated just yet. Perhaps until you start crawling from just how fucking spent you are from him will he finally determine he's satisfied. But even then . . . you doubt that.
The way he moves his cock, ramming in and out of you, matches the rhythm of the way he pushes and takes the candy back and forth from your mouth and his.
"If this is your way of making me like sweets," he chuckles darkly before he bites your lip enough to draw blood, "consider it accomplished."
[ 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. underage drinking. TRAUMA. domestic abuse. child abuse. depression. anxiety. wc: 22.9k
series masterlist ✮ previous chapter ✮ next chapter
SLAP!
the sound cracks across the parking lot, sharp enough to startle a flock of birds.
thirteen-year-old sukuna barely flinches. his head turns with the force of it, cheek already burning, his soccer bag slips from his shoulder and thuds against the concrete.
late evening sun hangs low behind the bleachers, practice long over. most of the other kids have already been picked up. a few parents glance over, then quickly look away. koari stands in front of him, chest heaving, car door still open behind her.
inside, the engine is running. yuuji’s wailing from the backseat, loud and hiccuping cries that only get worse the longer she ignores him. choso, five years old and small for his age, is twisted around in his booster seat trying to shove a stuffed animal into the baby’s hands, whispering frantic little “it’s okay, it’s okay”s that don’t help.
sukuna is still in uniform. dark soccer jersey clinging damp to his back, the team crest stitched over his chest, grass stains streaked across his socks and shorts. sweat runs down the side of his tanned face, mixing with the heat blooming under her hand.
“so you think you’re funny?” she snaps, grabbing sukuna by the front of his practice jersey. “making me sit here while you show off?”
practice ended ten minutes ago.
sukuna doesn’t answer. he never does, not to her. his red eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking.
her grip tightens. “I have two kids in that car. two! and you think doing stupid little tricks with your friends matters more than my fucking time?”
yuuji’s crying spikes.
“look at what you’re doing!” she shrieks, gesturing wildly toward the car like the baby’s distress is his fault. “you stress him out! you’re selfish, just like your father. always needing attention. god!” she exhales like it’s hard to breathe just thinking about his dad, “zero fucking backbone as a man.”
choso is watching through the window now.
sukuna finally moves, just enough to shrug her fingers off his shirt, slow and controlled.
“It was practice,” he says flatly.
the second slap is louder. harder.
“don’t talk back to me.”
a car drives past the lot entrance and slows. sukuna notices it, makes eye contact with a teammate sitting in the backseat. then the car keeps going.
her eyes flick to the snake bite piercings in her step-son’s bottom lip. her lips pull tight in the same familiar disgust as if the two earrings he got a few months ago wasn’t bad enough. “you’re still putting more garbage like that on your face,” her insides twist, “looking like a degenerate.”
she leans in closer, nails biting into his arm. her voice drops, venomous and low. “you think you’re special because you can kick a ball? you’re not. you’re a burden. do you understand me? a burden I didn’t sign up for, but I’m still forced to take care of.”
yuuji is still crying. choso is getting anxious. sukuna stands there, cheek red from the slap, eyes dry, jaw locked so tight it aches. he doesn’t look at her. he does it on purpose, he’d rather get hit again than look at this woman.
the third slap draws the metallic taste of blood blooming where his teeth cut the inside of his mouth.
kaori pulls her hand up again for a fourth, eyes dark and filled with vicious malice towards this thirteen year old boy. her hand shakes as she watches the boy lick his bloody lip, cold. he never reacts…he acts like she’s beneath him. as if! kaori’s anger bubbles over, hot fury leaking from her pores as she heaves, fingers flexing ready to slap him once more. but she catches sukuna’s gaze flick up at the car, at his brothers.
choso is sticking his head out of the car, eyes rimmed red. “mommy! yuu wont stop crying!”
koari’s head whips around, “choso,” she snaps. “what did I tell you about interrupting me—“
“but he’s—“
“choso!”
choso flinches, eyes brimming with more tears. sukuna’s fist clenches, glare finally flicking up to this women. “he’s just a kid,” he grits.
koari turns back to the thirteen year old. her eyes wild and manic. she can see the disgusting bubbling behind his gaze, the scowl on his face.
“don’t you dare speak about my parenting,” she seethes. her face curls into a snarl. “you’re the parasite. sucking my soul, your brothers souls, your fathers—everyone would be better off without you.”
sukuna remains still. thick brow permanently sewn together, glare cutting through her. her teeth grind, hands trembling with more pent up anger. finally having enough of yuuji’s wailing and choso’s fidgeting, she curls her lip, turning on her heel.
“find your own way home.”
the engine roars as koari pulls out of the lot, leaving a quiet sukuna behind. and only when the car is out of sight does sukuna let his hand tremble and hot tears cascade down his cheeks.
“FUCKFUCKFUCK FUUUCK HERRR!!” sukuna screams at the top of his lungs, slamming his duffle bag on the concrete. again and again. and again. the strap rips, flying against the concrete just for sukuna to drop to his knees, fist rising high before slamming it into the duffle. all his pent up rage unleashes on his equipment, however, his shin guards, cleats, and water bottle are used to it by now. ultimately laying under him as he falls on the pavement, burying his face deep in his duffle, and screaming with all his might.
his throat tearing.
——
“you’re lying.”
sukuna sits across from choso. his jaw locked, eyes dead, and muscles tense.
the tv was turned off minutes ago after sukuna finally came home. the blanket lays on the floor after sukuna ripped it off the fifteen year old, who was passed out on the couch. choso frowns, brown hair a mess, and dark circles under his brown eyes.
“I answered you. you can choose to believe me or not—“
“I don’t,” the eldest cuts, arms crossed, biceps flexing with frustration, glaring at his idiot brother. “why’d she give you that money?”
choso frowns, sweat building on his forehead. “I don’t know. maybe go ask her, since you’re the only one that can talk to her.”
sukuna scowls, biting back his tongue. he runs his hands through his hair. choso watches, back slouched against the couch, sweats and tshirt wrinkled from sleep, and one leg tucked under him. he doesn’t say anything. just observes, and quietly prays that sukuna doesn’t know find anything out.
“yuu’s telling me you’re practicing with y’r friends?”
choso’s eyes widen momentarily, sukuna catches it. “yeah…”
“how often you guys practice? yuu’s makin’ it seem like it’s an everyday thing.”
choso shrugs, “we’re workin’ out a new song, and ino keeps fuckin’ up the drum solo.” sukuna leans back in the arm chair, eyes narrowing. choso frowns noticing the way his older brother is scrutinizing him. he looks away, eyeing the blanket sukuna snatched off him. “can I go back to sleep now?”
sukuna pokes his cheek with his tongue, shrugging.
the teen grumbles, pushing off the couch to head to his room. “whatever. can’t even sleep on the stupid couch without getting bothered—“
“so if I talk to your ino friend, he can tell me where you’ve been?”
choso halts. sukuna doesn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know that his brother stopped. choso’s hands ball into fists, heart thudding, as it always does when he starts fabricating a lie. “you don’t even know who ino is—“
“the kid with the beanie. we met when you told me to fuck off and ran away with em. I remember.”
“I never told you to ‘fuck off’ .” choso tsks, sweat slowly sliding down his back.
sukuna turns, arm over the chair, glaring straight at his brother, “you basically did when that’s the last time you fuckin’ talked t’me. giving me the goddamn silent treatment like I’m your girlfriend.”
choso feels his blood start to pump louder, his eyes narrowing like knives, letting go of all composure, “maybe I just don’t have shit to say to you — ever think of that?!”
sukuna turns even more, “yeah, I don’t miss being a stupid fucking teenager—jesus christ!” he aggressively points at his brother. “you really have no fucking clue the shit I’m keeping from you. that’s why you think you can get fucking angry at me!”
“I don’t give a shit! there’s other people besides you that can think for themselves—!”
sukuna’s hand trembles, eyes burning red.
“if I want to talk to her that’s my choice—“
“you’re fifteen, fuck do you think you are?” sukuna scoffs, cold, “we needa sit down and get ya fucking checked in the head. seriously cho, y’er getting under my fucking skin—“
“good,” he spits, chest heaving.
sukuna’s jaw locks. “give me y’er phone.”
choso’s eyes widen, immediately taking a step back, “no-why?”
“gonna call your friend,” sukuna reaches for choso’s pocket, but the teen is quickly dodging, deflecting his brother’s arm,
“I’m gonna tell gramps—!”
“tell him!”
as strong and intimidating as sukuna is to outsiders. he’s also the eldest of three boys, and will ultimately fall on the ground tackling his teenage brother. and unlike the frat, sukuna has never raised a fist or hand, to either of his little brothers. the most his soul can do, is physically overpower them.
which has led to choso’s arm getting pinned under his brothers knee. sukuna straddling the younger’s chest, letting the teen thrash beneath him as he keeps a hand pressed to choso’s cheek, other hand grabbing at the phone that has fallen to the ground.
“you started going to the gym, ya little shit?” sukuna grunts.
choso groans in frustration, arms flexing to grab his brothers shirt. “get off me!”
“fuck’s your password?” sukuna attempts, typing out choso’s birthday. incorrect. yuu’s birthday. incorrect. his birthday. incorrect. sukuna frowns.
“woahhh dudeee, what’s going on?”
the color drains from choso’s face. his eyes bulging as he tilts his head back.
standing tall and curious — his best friend — ino.
it takes, a little under, a second for sukuna to glance up, spotting the boy, then the beanie, then choso’s reaction.
“ino?”
ino freezes, eyes widening as he makes direct eye contact with choso’s very intimidating, very scary, older brother. “y-YES?”
choso’s eyes look like they’re going to burst from their sockets. he’s aggressively shaking his head, struggling underneath the two hundred pound athlete. “go home ino—“
“stay.”
ino freezes, sweat quickly building under his beanie.
“don’t—listen to him,” choso falls back, sukuna letting go, no longer fighting over the phone. choso turns on his knees, eyes wide when he sees sukuna already walking up to his friend.
“did you guys do anything other than practice with your band this week?” sukuna’s first question already had ino glancing at choso. “don’t look at him, look at me.” ino’s eyes snap to sukuna, sweating. “now answer.”
“hey dude—“
“I’m not ‘yr fuckin dude,” sukuna barks, patience paper thin.
choso tsks, fixing his torn shirt from the tackling earlier, staring directly at his friend, as if that’ll get them to communicate telepathically. forgetting that ino secretly admires his older brother.
“we got a couple burgers from the diner and uh we went again after the school’s soccer game yesterday—“
“choso went to a game?” sukuna’s brow hits the ceiling, whipping his head to see choso frowning.
“is that so surprising?” he says.
sukuna’s eyes narrow. “you wouldn’t go—“ he stops. an uncomfortable twist preventing him from finishing the sentence. he turns back to ino. “can you drive?”
ino shakes his head.
“who’s driving ya both around town then?”
“maru,” ino replies, quickly elaborating before sukuna snaps again. “he’s a friend and plays base, for our band and he was the one driving last time when you—“
“so choso didn’t go anywhere alone?”
ino hesitates.
choso takes a step forward, sweat trickling down his back as ino chokes. idiot! choso screams internally, eyes snapping to his brother. he definitely noticed that!
sukuna’s crossed arms flex in anger, pushing further, the room bending around him causing the teens to sweat buckets, “where’d he go—“
ino loses it—
“he just left to talk to a girl and got rejected—real bad— that was the only time he left—but also when we’re in school, since we have separate classes. but he just got rejected by a girl he has a crush on during the soccer game so we ditched during halftime.”
the house is dead silent.
sukuna blinks.
his brother’s friend really is a fucking character. his head drops forward, fingers rubbing his eyes, aware of the two boys holding their breaths as he realigns his thoughts, grinding down on his teeth.
ino shoots his friend a nervous look. the other frowns shrugging at him before lifting a finger to his lips, easily mimicking a don’t say anything else face.
the sharp inhale of the six foot so man has both teens looking back at him.
“you going out to practice now?”
the question hangs in the air. neither boy responding, they’re so shocked. but once sukuna looks back at choso, and the teen catches the anger slowly dissipating from his brother — he nods.
sukuna turns away, walking further into the house towards his yuuji’s room, the exhaustion hangs heavy on his taunt shoulders. ready to crash.
choso watches. silent, heart thudding against his ribs, until—
“so you believe me now?”
sukuna halts.
the sharp jab hangs in the air.
sukuna’s back is turned. ino hold his breath, eyes clenching shut in panicked anxiety, heart thudding agaisnt his chest. why does he have to be in the middle of this???
sukuna rolls his neck back. a crack. his glare pierces the air, holding choso in place.
“watch it,” he mutters, low.
choso averts his gaze, eyes flicking toward the kitchen like he’s suddenly interested in anything but sukuna. his face twists into a sharp, frustrated scowl, hair a mess from his older brother’s rough handling. yet…he stays quiet. for once.
the silence stretches, tense and unnatural, as sukuna rolls his neck back again, another crack slipping out as he finally turns away. his patience is gone. whatever energy he had left is gone. he doesn’t say anything else. just walks off.
his steps are heavier now as he disappears down the hall and into his old room. the door clicks shut behind him, finally ending the interrogation.
only then do choso and ino move. ino lets out a breath he’d been holding, glancing back at him. “dude, i—”
“not here,” choso cuts in sharply.
he’s already moving to his room, fast and clearly agitated. he grabs his guitar, shoving it into its case, he yanks his backpack off the chair. there’s no second thought or pause. he doesn’t even bother with a change of clothes, or the bathroom. he just wants out of the house.
ino watches for half a second before following, the two of them slipping out as quickly as they can.
meanwhile, sukuna’s body feels like it’s shutting down. his thighs ache from the week, his back tight from the studying stress and impromptu practice, his shoulders are heavy like they’re carrying something he still can’t fucking shake. and his head won’t stop pounding. all his thoughts stack onto one another, overlapping and refusing to quiet down. he doesn’t have the energy anymore.
so when he pushes open the door to what used to be his room—now yuuji’s—he barely registers anything. megumi’s curled up on the air mattress in the middle of the room, and yuuji’s splayed half over the covers of the full sized bed. sukuna simply crosses the small room, and drops onto the empty side of the bed. the mattress dips under his weight, drawing a small shuffle from yuuji, but sukuna’s already gone. his eyes shut, and his body gives out the second he hits the sheets.
———
your lips part into a small smile, eyes soft but distant, your mind is already drifting somewhere else as your stomach churns with something uneasy. utahime invited a few of her friends out with you and shoko, and the place is packed. the bar is crowded, loud, warm, and full of people clinging to the last bit of freedom before summer actually begins.
everyone’s talking about something. internships, trips, plans, and you find yourself wondering how many people in here would rather stay exactly where they are than go home. there’s definitely a few. it’s not just you. but utahime isn’t one of them.
she’s mid-conversation with the girls she brought, laughing lightly as she talks about still deciding whether to take that internship or not. you catch pieces of it, enough to make your chest tighten, and you hate yourself for it. you’re happy for her. of course you are. but god—you’d take anything over going back home in a few weeks to work at the hospital.
“are you sure?” shoko interrupts, her drink already half gone, eyes flicking over you like she knows you’ve been somewhere else this entire time.
you snort, nodding. “obviously. my sister isn’t gonna be in her room anyway.”
shoko sighs in relief, shoulders dropping. “thank yooou, i would’ve taken your floor too.”
you laugh, shaking your head, but it fades quickly. your mind drifts again. your chest tightens.
you really are a fucking failure.
the thought hits hard this time, sitting heavier in your stomach. three years in school and you couldn’t land a single internship. not one. all you wanted was to try something—anything—that isn’t doing clinics at a fucking hospital. you just wanted to see what another life would be like. one that wouldn’t make you anxious, or have you feeling empty.
but no. life has other plans.
and those plans are dragging you back home for another suffocating summer, stuck in a hospital you hate, with your father watching you too closely, asking too many questions about a future you don’t even understand yourself. and god forbid you say you’re unsure. even worse is the look they give you when you admit you’re still figuring things out. and you can’t even stand up for yourself, which everyone loved to shove in your face.
seriously! three years in and you’re still lost? it’s pathetic. you press your lips together, jaw tightening as the thoughts spiral. they’re constant, familiar. and then—
the door swings open. a burst of noise cuts through the bar as a group of rowdy frat boys and athletes pile in. they’re laughing loud, and their energy is immediate. many heads turn instinctively, the shift in atmosphere familiar to the group.
shoko is the first to notice.
“oh they made it.” she’s already grinning as she spots her two close friends in the bunch. “yo!” she calls. your brows pinch slightly as you glance over. gojo and geto spotting their brunette friend, dragging along a surprisingly willing nanami, behind them. a few others flood in as well, loud and chaotic as ever.
you subtly sit up in anticipation. your eyes quietly scanning the group without meaning to.….
where is he?
you swallow, something tight forming in your throat as you shift in your seat, crossing your legs slowly, like it’ll ground you. he left your apartment yesterday afternoon. you don’t know when exactly, all you remember is the quiet disappointment you felt when you sat up on your bed, half expecting him to come out of the bathroom and give you another rough round of sex, to mush your brain up.
that’s the whole point of this. he’s left like this many times before. but this time you just…you wanted a little more before the break…
your gaze flicks back to the door, then to the group again.
he’s not here. does that mean he went back home already? that fast? your jaw tightens, fingers curling slightly around your glass as something uneasy settles deeper in your chest. you sure as hel didn’t come here for him, but now that your brain won’t quiet down, you wanted him to silence it for you.
“are these your first drinks?” gojo barks as he drops onto the stool across from you and shoko, already leaning too far forward like he’s been here for hours instead of minutes.
geto slides into the empty seat beside you, casual as ever, lifting your glass and bringing it to his nose. his brows knit almost immediately. “what—is this a virgin?”
shoko snorts, shoulders shaking beside you. you wave him off lazily, lips curling. “i was just warming myself up.”
“you warm yourself up with a drink before shots, not with a virgin!” gojo fires back, loud enough that a couple people nearby glance over in annoyance.
shoko leans across the table, sliding her drink toward him. “your warm-up is all you usually need, satoru.”
the frat president scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m actually much better at holding my liquor now.”
the lie sits there. then.
gojo, two drinks in and one shot later: wasted. you, one drink in and three shots later: wasted.
the bar is chaos. the music is too loud, lights too warm, voices overlapping until everything blends into one loud, buzzing blur. at some point, utahime’s friends join the table, then more people, then somehow you all migrate toward the dart boards in the back.
you’re laughing too loud. leaning too much. mostly on shoko. sometimes on gojo—who is absolutely no help, because he’s swaying just as bad, arm slung over your shoulders, yelling nonsense in your ear.
nanami stands off to the side, drink in hand, watching the two of you with thinly veiled disapproval, though there’s a faint hint of amusement in his eyes. geto’s not far behind him, a little too relaxed now, watching everything unfold like it’s entertainment as a few guys from the team chat with him.
and then there’s hiromi higurama. nanami’s friend, that rarely, if ever, makes an appearance. he’s a first year law student, who’s overstressed, sharp as shit, and he’s put-together in a way that doesn’t match the rest of you. but he’s here, along with a couple other law and grad students, leaning against the table like he got dragged here and decided to stay anyway. he’s older by only a couple years, but it shows in the way he carries himself and in the way he watches.
utahime lines up her shot. “comeback comeback,” she chants confidently. you and shoko are laughing, booing her as she squints, closing one eye, then the dart flies.
it hits the board, and of course, she immediately loses her balance— “shit!—” she stumbles back, catching herself and slamming right into you.
your footing slips just enough, a surprised laugh bursting out of you as you tip backwards. why’re you always falling?!
but then hand catches you. it’s steady and firm. higurama’s arm wraps around you just enough to keep you upright, pulling you back against the edge of the table before you can actually fall.
“careful,” he mutters, low, close to your ear.
you’re already laughing.
“i’m good—i’m good,” you insist, even though you’re still half-leaning into him for a second longer than necessary, your balance completely shot. and he doesn’t move right away. his arm loosens around your waist, but hovers close as you sway. his eyes soften, quietly watching you as you slap utahime lightly on the shoulder.
geto notices. his brows furrow slightly, just for a second, catching the way higurama’s gaze lingers. it’s subtle, but there.
meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious. already turning back, leaning into shoko again as gojo starts arguing about the rules of darts like he invented the fucking game.
“nahh you literally had us playing a different version last time,” you hiccup, words slurring together as you try to explain gojo’s made up rules he came up with a few weeks ago. no one fully understanding the direction of the conversation anymore as gojo scoffs, swaying as he shakes his head.
“no no no, last,” he hiccups, “last time, we were playing as individuals, now we’re—hic—we’re going—doing teams!”
“what’re you guys talking about?” higurama voice lowers, leaning down slightly, lips ghosting your ear so you can hear him over the music, eyes still on you.
“just something that happened at one of their frat parties,” you explain, gesturing vaguely toward gojo and geto, who are now mid-argument with utahime over who actually won the last round. your laugh bubbles up again, light, careless.
the rest of the night blurs. unaware of how your friends became just as distracted, and careless, that when you felt the same voice ghost your ear again, your mind couldn’t help the blurred image it was conjuring up.
“you want me to grab you some water?” the smooth voice of higurama had you swaying closer to hear him. he leans in, basically yelling over the music to repeat what he’d asked.
your hazy eyes hum, smiling widely when he passes you and the rest of the table some water bottles.
as the bar came to a close, your small group migrated to the pier. gojo and geto easily buying a couple six packs from the liquor store and meeting the rest of you guys on the picnic bench. gojo and nanami were in a heated argument about summer plans, whilst shoko sat on the table smoking her cigarette and passing up another drink.
“do you even here yourself,” nanami scoffs with uncanny annoyance. his face is dusted pink from the alcohol. his navy sweater is off and tossed over his shoulder, white tee straining over a surprising build of pure muscle. his large hand is still holding his half empty can of beer as he sneers at his high school friend.
“yeah i sound like a fucking genius—“
“I just told you I’m not—hic— I’m not gonna be free,” nanami is wasted, you guess he was just as a stressed during finals week. his jaw clenches as gojo laughs louder.
“you said you finish your work thing end of July, so the trip is planned for the next day!”
shoko and geto are in hysterics as gojo rage baits their poor friend. you’re still chatting with utahime, yuno, and higurama—wait—
“shouldn’t you be like, busy?” your voice cuts as you point to the stranger, higurama, with a raised brow.
the law student glances over. it isn’t a struggle when he’s been straddling the bench to lean an arm on the table and face you for the entirety of the time. a casual smile graces his lips, glancing at your expectant eyes, before shrugging.
“why would i be busy?”
“because you’re older, and in law school, so you should be busy, not—not hanging out with lo-hic-losers,” you slur. no filter much?
utahime gasps, her pale cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “I’m not a loser!”
yuno nods, absentmindedly, hand subtly brushing utahime’s wrist.
who isn’t drunk here?
“you know what I mean,” you mutter, speaking over the rim of your can. drinking sucks.
higurama raises a brow, fingers drumming over the surface of the table. his tie hangs around his shoulders and his dress shirt sleeves are rolled up. he quietly studies you. “I finished finals too. are law students not allowed to relax?”
you quietly absorb his words, glancing at his eyes then away. you shrug.
the man smiles, swinging his leg over, moving to stand up.
your eyes widen. wait, is he leaving??
“I’ll see ya kento,” he swings back the rest of his drink and leaves it with the rest of the empty cans on the table. he spares you a final glance, then walks away.
“what the—“ you gape, eyes snapping to utahime and yuno, drunk as shit and jaws agape. “that wasn’t because of me?”
“you basically asked him why the fuck he’s hanging out with us,” yuno calls out, utahime nods.
your face flushes hot, stomach churning with guilt, “that wasn’t—I didn’t say it like that.”
“sounded like it, babe,” utahime quietly agrees.
your brows furrow, glancing back at the man walking away. “now I feel bad,” you cringe at yourself, heart beating against your chest as you move before thinking, which usually happens when you get drunk.
“what’re you doing??” utahime gasps as you start sprinting towards higurama.
“to apologize!”
however, running and drinking wasn’t a very good combo, not only were you swaying, but your stomach was turning in a very familiar way.
“higu—“
your eyes widen. fuck.
you quickly detour to the bushes, stomach emptying onto the poor greenery. why are things turning out this way?
“why’d you do that?” the soft, firm hand on your back, briefly startles you, but you turn, puking some more. eyes tearing up.
“can you call ryo?” you mutter, mind still lost and not grasping the present.
“ryo?” higurama gently guides you to the empty bench closer to the water, and away from the bushes you barfed on. “sit down.”
you listen, body unable to unwind, as you rest your back against the seat, eyes distant as the waves crash. you swallow thickly, still catching your breath. the nausea lingers, sour and stubborn, sitting heavy in your chest.
“never mind,” you mumble after a second, voice hoarse. “ryo’s not here.” the words come out softer than you expect, and then they land. your brows pinch faintly. you’re only now realizing what you just said, who you just asked for. your stomach twists again—but this time it’s not from the alcohol.
higurama doesn’t comment on it. he just watches you for a moment longer before shifting beside you, settling onto the bench with a quiet exhale. his legs stretch out in front of him, dress shoes planted against the pavement, knees spread just enough to take up space. his sleeves are still rolled up to his forearms, the fabric slightly wrinkled now, the night has worn on him too. one hand rests loosely against his thigh, the other drapes along the back of the bench—close enough to you without actually touching.
for a while, neither of you say anything. just the sound of the water, waves crashing softly against the pier, steady. the noise fills the silence without demanding anything from it. you stare out at it, eyes unfocused, your mind drifting somewhere you don’t want to follow.
then, quietly…
“why did you….why did you decide on law?” it comes out almost absent. it feels like you’re asking just to fill the space. that’s what you tell yourself. but you quietly wait for his answer.
higurama glances at you, just briefly, before his gaze returns to the water. he takes his time answering. “i want to help people,” he says at first, simple, but his voice doesn’t stop there. “not in the… uh idealistic way people say it,” he adds, quieter now. “not like—saving the world or anything like that. the world’s fucking shit and people are cruel...”
you glance at him quietly.
his jaw shifts slightly, choosing his words carefully. “i just… didn’t like how often people get stuck with decisions that aren’t really theirs. bad situations. bad systems. and no one actually explains anything to them.” he exhales softly through his nose, fingers tapping once against his leg. “so i figured if i study it, maybe i could make it a little less unfair for someone.”
there’s no arrogance in it. no need for validation. just matter-of-fact.
you look away from him, eyes fixed on the water, watching the way it moves. the constant, endlessness of it… it knows where it’s going even when you don’t. your chest tightens faintly, something uncomfortable settling deep in your ribs, because he sounds so sure. even in the way he talks about it, even with his pauses, he still chose something and committed to it. like he knows why he’s here…unlike you,
your fingers curl slightly in your lap. “that’s…” you start, but the word trails off, dissolving before it can become anything real. you don’t finish it. instead, you just nod a little to yourself, swallowing whatever else was going to come out, letting the silence settle back in.
this time, it feels heavier.
he’s quiet for a moment after you trail off, the sound of the water filling in the space again. then, without looking at you, he asks, “why are you doing medicine?”
the question hits harder than it should. it’s simple. but it lands somewhere deep. your breath stutters, just slightly, and before you can stop it—before you can control it—you feel it. that awful, tight pressure climbing up your chest, wrapping around your throat like a wire pulling too tight.
fuck. this is why you hate drinking.
your eyes sting, vision blurring as you blink once, then again, trying to push it back down, but it doesn’t work. it never really does when you’re like this, when everything is already sitting too close to the surface. this is the reason you drank. you just wanted one night. one stupid, fun night with your friends before you all go for the summer. not this.
a tear slips down your cheek. then another. its’s quiet, you mood unannounced. higurama notices immediately, because you don’t even try to hide it.
“i don’t know,” you admit, voice small and uneven. your gaze stays forward, locked on the water like if you look anywhere else you might actually break. “i don’t know if i wanna do it… but like—” your throat tightens, words catching. “i don’t know what to do.”
it comes out in pieces. fragile. honest even though you didn’t mean to be and in a way you rarely ever just say without feeling like you’re being judged. but you’re too drunk to feel insecure or embarrassed.
higurama doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his gaze drifts back to the waves, giving you space while he stays right there beside you.
his arm, that was resting on the back of the bench, gently brushes your arm. steady, grounding, and nothing more. it’s not possessive. not suggestive. just… there. and you don’t even realize that he’s not looking at you like that, anymore. not right now. whatever flicker of interest was there earlier is gone and now replaced with something calmer and more aware.
you swallow, voice quieter now. “did you always know what you wanted?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “or did you just… force yourself to like it?”
higurama exhales softly, leaning back against the bench, arm still resting around you. his head tilts slightly as he looks out at the water again, thinking.
“I highly doubt anyone knows what they’re doing,” he says after a beat. “people just get better at pretending they do.” there’s a faint edge of something dry in his tone. “people talk about ‘paths’ like they’re set. like you pick one thing and it just… works out.” he shakes his head slightly. “it doesn’t. it’s more like… a series of decisions you keep making, even when you’re not sure they’re right.”
his fingers tap lightly against your arm, absent and thoughtful. “law’s the same way. I mean you build a case with what you have, not what you wish you had. you take the risk, present the argument, and hope it holds.” he pauses. “sometimes it doesn’t.”
you nod slowly, even if your chest still feels tight, trying to absorb his words, trying to make it mean something for you. “so what if it doesn’t?” you murmur, voice still unsteady. “what if i’m already behind?”
he glances at you this time, properly. “behind who?” he asks simply.
you hesitate.
“…everyone,” you admit, quieter. “i’ve been doing the same thing every summer at a hospital. same place. same freaking thing. and everyone else is… doing something.”
“do you have something else you wanna try?” he asks.
you shrug, small, helpless. “i don’t know…” your voice dips, wavering, but you push through it anyway. “i want to do something else… but i don’t have something, like, to show for it. like an internship for it, or—” you swallow hard, the words catching before they can fully form, cutting yourself off before it turns into something else. you shrug instead, tighter this time, like you’re trying to make it seem smaller than it feels.
higurama watches you for a second, piecing together what you’re actually saying underneath it.
“you still have the hospital, though,” he says evenly. it’s not dismissive, he’s just stating it.
you make a face immediately, gaze dropping. “yeah…”
“are you there the whole summer?”
you shake your head. “no… just a few weeks. my dad makes me do it every summer.”
there’s a small pause.
“then what’s stopping you?” he asks.
you blink, glancing at him like the question doesn’t fully register at first. “from what?”
“from trying something else for the rest of it,” he says simply. “you’re acting like you need something official to justify trying something else. you don’t.”
his shoulders lift in a small shrug. “internships are just structured ways to prove interest. they’re not the only way to have it.”
your brows pinch slightly, listening.
“if you already know you don’t like the hospital, then fine. do your time there,” he continues, tone calm, grounded. “but after that? you’ve got like a month or a few weeks or whatever to do something else. you don’t need a title to start figuring something out, and I’m guessing you just wanted the title to show that you’re not behind.”
he glances at you again, more direct now. his voice softens just a fraction. “you don’t need to be good at it yet. you just need to start somewhere. but if your parents are anything like mine, then I’m guessing they just want you to do something in the summer.”
you nod, quietly.
“don’t stress too much. people change their minds every day, and at least you’re interested in something else,” he speaks like it’s that easy, and maybe in your drunk mind, your walls have come down low enough to really listen. and it could also be because you’ve heard of higurama and how hard working he is from nanami. so maybe his words mean a little more than your dad, or your sisters. “what exactly do you wanna do?”
you wet your lips, and higurama quietly notes how you’ve stopped crying. “I wanna work in film, like screenwriting, or producing.”
his eyes widen. “for real?”
you nod, swallowing the anxious feelings threatening to bubble up after admitting it to a complete stranger. “I’m minoring in film right now, but i really like it.”
higurama hums, sitting up straighter. “you’re working at your dad’s hospital in the summer?”
“it’s not my dad’s hospital, he’s an attending there, but like it’s not like he owns it—but yeah,” you correct, a slight tone shift in your voice, which higurama dismisses.
he reaches for his phone, arm moving from around your shoulder. “pretty sure my uncle has some crazy contacts. he…was anentertainment lawyer for this production company a couple years ago. if you want I can see if he can give me a contact and try and introduce you for some informational meeting or something.”
your eyes burst with light.
“wait for real???”
higurama nods, “everything is about fucking connections in that industry.” you nod along as he finds his uncle’s contact, texting him, then handing you his phone. “add your number and email so I can send them to him too when he gets the contact.” you nod again, sitting straight as you quickly type your info. “have you had any meetings with industry people?”
you shake your head, “just like, meetings with my professors,” you hand him back his phone.
“no stress,” higurama reassures, saving your contact and turning his phone off. “most first meetings like these always go the same. it’s about networking and you have a connection, so hopefully when my uncle introduces you to whoever, you have to make sure you get out of that meeting with another contact, and it’s just like a string until something sticks.”
you’re nodding along.
“wait,” your eyes widen. he quirks a brow. “I’m like really drunk, I don’t wanna forget this,” you freak.
higurama snorts, pulling up your contact again, “I’ll text you what I just said,” he slouches on the bench, amused when you lean close watching him type everything.
“you got it man?!” gojo slurs, him and geto crowded around his phone as they watch their soccer captain scowl at them through facetime.
“I can’t understand a fucking word you idiots are saying,” he snaps from the other side.
gojo groans, nanami’s head popping in as he turns gojo’s wrist. “we’re planning the trip—and he’s not listening to anyone—“
“you’re the one that’s not listening, i gave you dates that work—“
“they don’t work!” nanami barks, face flaming with anger and the liquor he should put down.
sukuna licks his teeth, “call me back when you dickheads are sober—“
“waaaaittt,” gojo whines, freeing his wrist from nanami’s grip with tug, and inevitably falling off the seat. his phone clatters on the floor. another figure picks it up.
utahime.
“oh, you.” she frowns at the sight of the man. sukuna frowns in return. unlike gojo and geto and the rest of the guys that loosely know about his relationship with you. he’s assuming shoko and utahime are definitely less forgiving of the argument you guys had, and even if you made up, he doubts you filled them in since it was less than 48 hours ago. “just because—“ hiccup.
great, everyone is drunk.
“because you’re sleeping with my best friend, d-doesn’t mean I like you—“ utahime slurs, pointing at the screen. at sukuna. “and she’s—“
in the minor distraction, utahime waves her crush to shh. “did you hear what I said—“
“yeah. did ya talk to her, or are you too drunk?” sukuna grumbles in disinterest, ready to hang up any second. he moves from his place on the couch, to the kitchen. yuuji, megumi, and their other friend, nobara, are still shouting in the background. video game blasting in the living room.
“no I’m not talking to her, she’s over there talking to k-ken’s friend and—hic—I’m talking to you right now, duh,” utahime scoffs.
sukuna’s movements halt.
huh?
“who?” he asks before thinking.
utahime glances over at yuno pointing off screen. “what was his name—oh higu—higu-“
“higurama?”
utahime hums, “yeah, higurama. nanami’s law friend. they’re talking over there.” she raises the phone without really thinking, flipping the screen toward the pier.
the camera wobbles for a second before it steadies, and there you are. not with them. not near the table. you’re off to the side, sitting on one of the benches closer to the water, the distance obvious even through the shitty front camera quality. the rest of the group is loud, clustered together under the dim pier lights, but you drifted off and just stayed there.
you’re leaning in slightly, shoulder angled toward higurama, your body turned to face him more than anything else. close enough to look familiar. close enough to look comfortable.
he’s saying something—something sukuna can’t hear—and for a second, he lifts his phone between you, showing you something on the screen. but from this angle, it just looks like you’re sitting back, smiling at him, soft and distracted, your voice faint in the background as it carries over the speaker. whatever you’re saying, it’s looser and easy. too easy.
something in sukuna’s stomach twists, sharp and unpleasant. he pushes it down immediately.
“why’re they talking away from the rest of you?” he asks, voice flat, edged with something colder than it needs to be. he pulls out a drink from the fridge.
utahime squints at the screen, words a little slurred. “she was kinda mean—not really—but like, she’s drinking—which is—we should stop—but she went to apologize and now they’re talking.” she shrugs, already half over it.
gojo suddenly leans into frame, grinning like he just found something unbelievably entertaining. “oh yeah—you see ’em?” he laughs, keeping the phone angled right on you and higurama.
sukuna clicks his tongue, irritation slipping through. “why’re you fucking laughing?”
“because you’re pissed,” gojo shoots back instantly, grin widening.
sukuna scowls, jaw tightening. “i’m not fucking pissed, you fucking idiot.”
but his eyes don’t leave the screen. don’t leave you. and they don’t miss the way you tilt your pretty head when you listen. the way you shift a little closer without thinking. the way your attention is fully on someone else. his grip tightens slightly around his phone, looking away.
are you gonna text him before or after you fuck this guy, he thinks. his tongue drags slow against his teeth, jaw tightening as he leans back slightly, eyes glancing up at his brother and his friends.
“oh—they’re coming back!” gojo calls suddenly, voice bright with amusement.
and sure enough, you’re walking back toward the group with higurama right beside you, like nothing ever happened. like you didn’t just disappear with him for however long. you’re still talking, hands moving as you explain something, a little too animated, a little too loose from the alcohol. your head tips toward him when he responds, eyes flicking up to his face again—and again—and again.
higurama says something that makes you laugh, and it’s soft, quieter than the way you usually laugh with them. your shoulder brushes his arm for a second as you walk, not even noticing it
sukuna’s expression doesn’t change. but something inside his stomach hardens. his gaze tracks you the entire way back, slow, deliberate. the way you close the distance. the way you don’t rush it. the way you look…comfortable. his grip shifts on the phone, thumb pressing harder than necessary against the edge. he’s leaning against the counter, jaw tight when your hand fixes the strap of your top, laughing when shoko makes a comment he barely hears.
“see?” gojo hums, smug, leaning closer to the camera. “you got competition now.”
sukuna exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “shut the fuck up.”
gojo cackles loudly, and you glance over. “who’re you guys talking too?” you slide beside nanami, leaning over just for gojo to turn the screen towards you.
your stomach flips so fast it almost hurts. your whole body heats in an instant. ryo. it slips out before you even think about it. and you don’t realize how soft it sounds until you say it again, a little lighter this time, a small smile pulling at your lips like it’s second nature. your tone is gentler than usual, looser—too loose—and it’s obvious. you’re drunk. so drunk. because why are you saying his name like that?
why does it feel so easy?
on the other end, sukuna stills for half a second. it doesn’t stop the way something warm settles low in his stomach. behind you, higurama’s attention shifts at the name. his gaze drifts over your shoulder, landing on the screen. the familiar face tattoos clicks almost immediately.
…oh. so that’s who you were calling. sukuna…but…ryo? his brows knit faintly, something quiet and curious settling in his chest. are you guys dating?
he doesn’t ask it out loud. just watches. you don’t notice any of it, too busy leaning closer into frame, lips parting as you talk. “you’re missing out,” you say, voice bright despite the slight slur. “we were playing darts earlier and you should’ve been here because freaking gojo was being an ass about the rules again—” you laugh, the memory still obnoxiously funny.
and sukuna hates himself a little. hates the way his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. the way he nods once, slow. the way his neck cracks as he tilts his head back, trying to ease the tension sitting there.
from the living room behind him, one of his brother yells about something, loud and distant, but it barely registers because you’re still on his screen. you’re not dating. you guys have both been very clear about the terms and conditions. so why not indulge? you’re free. he’s free. there are conditions for a reason—
“i’ll send you the video when i get home,” you add lightly, like it’s nothing. “my phone died.”
and just like that, everything in his head goes quiet. because now he’s going to be waiting for it. waiting for you to text him. and fuck if he’ll ever admit that shit.
“…yeah,” he hums, softer than before, almost absent, like it just slipped out. his eyes don’t leave the screen or more specifically, you.
your face fills it completely now. your lips, the ones he knows too well, the taste of them when you roll your tongue over his. your cheeks, the ones that get damp the second he fucks you a little harder. your eyes— those same eyes. the ones that look up at him like you want something. like you expect something. like he’s the only one that can give it to you.
his grip tightens just slightly around the phone. and for a second he forgets anyone else is even there. and even if gojo took the phone away and sukuna basically hung up afterwards. he ignored whatever tug he felt in his chest. and he seriously couldn’t care to answer gojo’s calls again.
“are you gonna play with us now?” yuuji calls as sukuna makes his way back.
“yeah,” sukuna simply confirms, dropping back onto the couch.
he doesn’t catch the way yuuji’s entire face lights up, and how quick the kid straightens, already reaching for the controller—because the front door suddenly slams open so hard it rattles the walls.
“what the fuc—” sukuna snaps, already halfway up again.
two high schoolers freeze in the doorway. choso is slumped between them. one of them, ino, goes rigid the second his eyes land on sukuna. the other, mechamaru, panics instantly, hands fumbling where they’re hooked under choso’s arms.
“what the hell is his brother doing here?!” mechamaru screeches, trying to pivot like he can somehow leave with choso still half-dragged between them.
“shit—I forgot he came this morning!” ino swears.
“you forgot—?” mechamaru freaks.
they’re somehow out the door again, then they both stall on the front steps. because the air shifts, drops, and something heavier settles in the space between them. sukuna is standing at the door, blocking the light from reaching them, creating a shadow over the high schoolers.
“what the fuck happened to him?” sukuna barks. his tone is sharp, cutting right through them. they turn back slowly.
sukuna is down the two steps in seconds. his hand comes up, gripping choso’s jaw, forcing his head up. choso barely resists, head lolling slightly, eyes glassy and unfocused. his cheeks are flushed, lips parted, breath uneven—
and it hits him. the smell. sukuna’s expression twists instantly, something dark snapping into place behind his eyes.
“is he drunk?” he asks. but it’s not really a question. his grip tightens. “answer me.”
mechamaru confesses instantly. “we got asked to play at a party, and we went because it’ll also be great practice, before the competition, but after—“ he glances at ino, now hesitant. “we were dragged to do drinks.”
“by who?” sukuna is already grabbing his brother, easily tossing his arm over his shoulder and lifting the teen up. choso mutters something incoherent.
“these guys from the baseball team.”
sukuna’s face twists, “baseball?” the disgust in his tone was evident.
ino fixes his beanie, nodding. “yeah, guess it was their party, but um I’m pretty sure they’re friends with these guys that’are also gonna play at the concert, and it looks like they were picking at us.”
“doesn’t explain why cho’s the only one that can’t fucking walk,” sukuna barks. the two teens confusing him even more.
the two nod frantically. “yeah, choso got pissed when he realized we just played our new songs to a bunch of ops, so he wanted to prove them wrong.”
sukuna deadpans. “and you two let ‘him?”
ino quickly replies, fidgeting with his hair that peaks from his beanie. “no, we told him not too. but by the time he agreed, those baseball dicks told us to shut the fuck up, and they wouldn’t let us get to him until choso ended up like this.”
sukuna licks his teeth, jaw tight as he glances at choso.
“we got him out the second they let go of us,” mechamaru adds.
sukuna silently notes the concern written on the faces of his little brother’s friends.
“do you know how much he drank?”
the two glance at one another, shifting their weight, before shaking their heads in defeat.
sukuna straightens up. choso’s head lulls to his shoulder.
“woah, what happened to cho?”
a small voice booms from behind them. yuuji stands at the door, eyes wide and brows pulled together. megumi and nobara glance from their seats on the floor.
“he’s not feeling well,” sukuna responds. he dismisses the two high schoolers, and turns back to the house.
choso groans as he’s hoisted up the two steps. the front door slams behind them.
“is he drunk?” yuuji blurts, already stepping in the way, trying to peer up at choso’s face.
“yuuuuji,” choso slurs, head lolling toward him, cheeks flushed an ugly shade of pink.
“yuuji, grab some water for him,” sukuna cuts in, already moving, arm hooked tight around choso as he drags him further into the house. he doesn’t make it past the hallway when—
“wait—” choso chokes, eyes widening, hand coming up weakly, “i’m gonna puke—”
“shit—”
sukuna doesn’t hesitate. he yanks him sideways, practically hauling him into the bathroom and shoving him down in front of the toilet just in time. choso barely gets his hands on the seat before he’s throwing up. loud. violent. his whole body jerks with it, his shoulders heaving as he gags, groaning in between, completely gone.
sukuna stands over him for a second, jaw tight, watching him?, then he crouches down, hand bracing his shoulder so he doesn’t tip forward.
“fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters under his breath, but it lacks bite.
choso retches again, weaker this time, whimpering slightly when it finally slows.
and sukuna frowns…all he can see is himself. his chest tightens. a small, ugly part of him twists with something that feels too close to guilt. why the fuck is he like this? why is choso trying to prove anything at all at some shitty high school party?
her.
the image hits him out of nowhere. sharp. intrusive. his step-mother’s face, her voice, the way she worms her way into everything. the way she still haunts him, and now choso… his jaw clenches so hard it aches. he wants to rip the thought out of his own head.
“i don’t…” choso mumbles weakly, voice slurring into itself. his head drops against his arm, propped on the toilet seat. “i don’t wan’ you-you being mad…”
sukuna stills.
choso’s brows knit together, drunk mind scrambling, trying to hold onto something that’s floating. “i don’t… mom is… she’s my mom… i just—” his voice cracks.
choso’s a sad drunk.
his eyes gloss over, unfocused, bottom lip trembling slightly as he breathes unevenly. “i wanna talk to my mom…”
something in sukuna snaps tight in his chest. his jaw sets hard. he doesn’t say anything. he can’t when choso’s vulnerable like this. but his grip tightens just slightly on choso’s shoulder.
no.
that woman is not getting anywhere near him. near any of them. doesn’t matter how much choso cries. doesn’t matter how much he fucking asks or begs. the answer will always be no. she’s a fucking cancer.
“here’s some water,” yuuji pipes up, appearing in the doorway with a glass, then immediately recoils. “ewww.”
sukuna exhales through his nose, grabbing the glass without looking at him. “yeah, we’re not telling gramps.”
yuuji straightens a little, arms crossing like he’s being let in on something serious. “our secret?”
“m’not…” choso mumbles, but he obeys anyway, taking a few messy gulps before coughing, water dribbling down his chin.
“yuuji, go grab me the ibuprofen,” sukuna adds without looking up.
“got it,” yuuji nods, already darting off.
choso slumps back against the tub once he’s done, head tipping back, eyes barely open. sukuna reaches over, flushing the toilet and shutting the lid. choso keeps mumbling…
“i’m not… hic—m’not an idiot…”
yuuji reappears in the doorway, curious now, watching like it’s a show. sukuna glances up at him briefly, grabbing the bottle, before looking back at choso.
“i know how she waas…” choso continues, voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “why you left me and yuuji—”
sukuna’s jaw locks, hard. his expression doesn’t change, not when his brothers are right there. but the tension in his shoulders spikes, something heavy settling behind his eyes and over his chest, as he stares at choso.
and for a second he doesn’t know what the fuck to say.
choso’s eyes well up, slumping even more as his knee comes up. his face presses into his arm, hair falling over his face in a tangled mess. “but she…”
yuuji steps closer, small brows knitting together as he leans toward sukuna. “who’s she?” he whispers.
sukuna exhales through his nose. “no clue.” he straightens, already reaching down to haul choso back up. “let’s get him to bed.”
it’s messy. choso barely helps, weight sagging into sukuna as he drapes an arm over his shoulders. sukuna adjusts his grip, one hand firm at his side, the other keeping him upright as they shuffle down the hallway. sukuna basically lifting him the entire way.
“move,” sukuna mutters.
yuuji is already ahead of them, darting into choso’s room. he kicks a pile of clothes out of the way, yanking the blanket back.
sukuna lowers choso onto the bed with a quiet grunt, guiding him down instead of dropping him. choso immediately curls in on himself, still mumbling, words slurring into nothing.
“turn,” sukuna orders, nudging his shoulder until choso rolls onto his side. he adjusts him without much patience, but careful enough, one arm tucked, head angled. sukuna adjusts one of the throw pillows behind choso’s back. he groans, but settles. sukuna pulls the blanket over him, tugging it up to his shoulder.
for a second, he just stands there. watching.
yuuji edges closer, peering up at sukuna’s face, then back at choso. “it’s not good that he was drinking, right?”
sukuna stifles a yawn, dragging a hand down his face, but his mind is still stuck, looping on choso’s words.
“no,” he mutters. “it’s not good.”
yuuji shifts, frowning. “then why aren’t you mad?”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. his eyes stay on choso, something tight pulling low in his chest before he finally says, quieter, “i’m upset.”
yuuji’s expression softens almost instantly. he leans into sukuna’s side without thinking, small and warm. sukuna’s hand comes up automatically, rough palm settling on his head before ruffling his hair.
“i’m gonna stay in ’ere with him,” sukuna says, nudging him gently toward the door. “so go play.”
yuuji stumbles a step from the push, but stops at the doorway, hesitating. his lips press together, jaw tightening just a little. “aren’t you gonna play? you said you would.”
sukuna drops into the old lounge chair in the corner with a low grunt, legs spreading out, shoulders heavy as he sinks back into it. he barely spares him a glance. “i gotta watch choso.”
“but he’s sleeping,” yuuji argues quietly.
sukuna’s gaze flicks back to choso. “he’s drunk as shit. you want him choking on his vomit?”
yuuji’s face scrunches. “no.” his voice is small.
“we’ll play tomorrow,” sukuna says, already closing his eyes, tone coming off more dismissive than he intended or even thought about.
yuuji lingers for a second longer, then disappears down the hall. the room goes quiet. just choso’s uneven breathing. the faint hum of the house. sukuna sinks deeper into the chair, head tipping back, eyes shut. his body aches in that dull, heavy, almost like he’s expecting something that’s inevitably coming…
his step-mother. his eyes shut, fuck everything is tangling together he must have drifted at some point, barely asleep, barely conscious, because the sudden buzz of his phone cuts through it like a blade. punishing him for the delusion that he had a little bit more time.
he fishes his phone out of his pocket, blinking at the screen.
toji.
———
you quickly grab the handle of your apartment building before you trip again. a light laugh escapes as a hand holds your waist steady.
“you sure you’re okay?” shoko asks, other hand coming up to her face. her head is spinning.
you mutter out something, fishing for your keys. shoko sways, waiting patiently, along with the halted uber with the rest of the gang inside, well except for higurama who left once you all got in the uber, and utahime and yuno…
“okayokay I’m inside, byebye!”
you’re stumbling into your apartment, drunk as hell, the door barely shutting behind you before you’re already kicking your shoes off across the floor. your balance wobbles, fingers clumsy as they fumble with the zipper of your jeans, a quiet huff leaving you when it snags for a second before finally giving.
you peel them off with far less grace than you’d like, stepping out of them and leaving them abandoned somewhere behind you. your top follows, dragging it over your head, then your bra—gone just as quickly, tossed without care. the apartment is warm, it’s thick with that early summer heat, and your skin practically sighs in relief as you’re left in nothing but your panties.
you don’t even bother covering yourself. your body is loose, uncoordinated. your chest rises and falls a little deeper than usual, and with every step, there’s that soft, natural movement. your bare skin warm, your body relaxed in a way it only gets when you’re like this. the moment you reach your bed, you collapse onto it.
your phone slips from your hand, bouncing once against the sheets as you roll onto your side, face pressing into the pillow. your lashes flutter lazily as the screen lights up beside you. notifications stacking from family group chats, names you don’t have the energy to read right now.
but one name floats to the front of your mind. one. and before you can even think it through, your fingers are already moving.
the phone rings. once. twice. then—
“hello?”
his voice is rough. low, edged with sleep, and something else you can’t quite place in your state.
you shift slightly, your phone resting near your cheek, heat spreading there as you breathe out, “ryo…”
there’s a pause. then a quiet hum on his end, fabric shifting as he moves. “you just got home?”
you answer with a soft, tired hum, eyes slipping half-shut. your lips part slightly as you exhale, tongue darting out to wet them without thinking. your head feels lighter now, the alcohol settling into something softer, slower, but it leaves your voice like honey, sweet, drawn out.
on the other end, sukuna’s jaw tightens.
“are you upset?” you ask, absent, like the thought just wandered into your head and out your mouth.
“why would i be upset?”
you make a small sound, barely there. “dunno… you just sound… like it,” you murmur, sighing into your pillow.
there’s a brief silence.
“you should get some sleep,” sukuna says, more abrupt now. a little colder, but it barely registers through the haze.
“I wan’ed to uh…” you yawn, words slurring together. “m’ gonna go home.”
his tone shifts instantly. “where the fuck are you now?”
you hum, too slow, too tired to match his urgency. “mmm… i mean… to my parents… next week,” you mumble. “i’m gonna do the hospital thing.”
he hesitates. you can’t see it, but he does, because last time, you shut that conversation down fast. hell, he doesn’t even know why you’re telling him this, so now he just… waits.
on your end, your breathing softens. a quiet, shaky exhale leaves you as your fingers curl slightly into the sheets. “i…” you swallow, eyes stinging faintly. “that’s okay, right?”
his breath catches, just barely. what is it with drunk people tonight…
“…yeah,” he says finally, quieter. not fully understanding the entire context, but answering anyway.
you don’t question the way you relax just a little.
“o…kay,” you murmur, softer now. then… “i wish… you were here.”
there’s a beat. and then, his lip quirks faintly, voice dipping. “so you can fuck yourself on me?”
you let out a light, airy laugh, barely there, bringing the phone closer, like his voice could comfort you the way his body does. “yeah…”
a pause. then softer, unguarded… “you always make me feel good, ryo.”
and he stills. completely.
shit.. he exhales, slow. his hand drags up his face as his head tips back against the chair. the room is quiet only broken by the faint shift of choso on the bed and the distant hum of the house settling at night. the silence only makes the way his chest is beating just a little louder in his ears.
“ryo,” you breathe again, even softer this time. he hums, voice even, steady. on the other end, your lashes grow too heavy to fight. your lips part slightly as your voice slips out, barely there, “g’night.”
there’s no response. not right away. because by the time he opens his mouth, you’re already gone your breathing evens out, soft and slow through the phone, quiet enough that he almost misses it at first. but then it settles into a rhythm, steady, warm, unmistakable. you fell asleep. still on the call.
sukuna doesn’t hang up. he just… listens. eyes still closed, head tipped back, phone pressed loosely to his ear as your breathing fills the silence on his end. it’s strange, how something so small manages to take up so much space in his head.
his mind drifts. back to the last time he saw you. saturday afternoon. less than 48 hours ago. the way he’d rushed out of your apartment without looking back, already halfway gone before the door even shut behind him. this is the first time you’ve called him like this and he didn’t show up. didn’t end with him pushing you into a mattress, didn’t end with his hands on you, your voice in his ear for a completely different reason.
if he was still on campus, he would’ve came. no question. but he’s not there. and somehow…that makes this feel different. a kind of different he doesn’t sit with for too long. doesn’t want to sit with. so he pushes it down, like he does everything else and focuses instead on the sound of you breathing—soft, steady—and he finds himself annoyed for a reason he doesn’t fully unpack.
he should be hearing it closer. your breathing against his ear, against his chest. your body warm, tucked into him the way it always ends up.
you said you wish he was there because he makes you feel good. his jaw tightens slightly. you make him feel good too. too fucking good. and with everything else tangled in his head, his family, choso, her, his call before this, the future—you’re the only thing that’s pretty simple. you don’t shift. it’s the routine. the sex. you. and it’s something he can actually count on.
his grip tightens faintly around his phone, thumb pressing against the edge of it as he exhales again, slower this time. summer stretches out in front of him. and in the quiet of that room, with your breathing in his ear and everything else sitting heavy in his chest, all he can think is:
summer is going to be hell.
— THREE WEEKS LATER —
the field sits just off the small town’s coast. the air tastes like salt and the wind carries the distant crash of waves. it’s late afternoon, sun still high, heat clinging to everything and sukuna is drenched.
sweat slicks down his chest, dragging along the hard lines of muscle, catching in the dips of his collarbones before trailing lower. his back is worse, broad, defined, and every movement is pulling the ink stretched across his skin. the tattoos curl over his shoulders, down his back, around his biceps. and his hair is damp, sticking slightly to his forehead, breath heavier from drills, but controlled.
people notice. a couple women slow their walk along the path by the beach, voices dropping as their eyes linger. some just outright staring.
sukuna jogs up to the benches, grabbing the water bottle toji tosses his way without breaking stride. the plastic cracks slightly under his grip before he twists it open, taking a long drink, water spilling down his throat, over his chin, dripping onto his chest.
“anything?” he asks, voice rougher now.
toji doesn’t answer right away, just hands him the folder.
sukuna takes it, flipping it open with one hand. “what’s this?”
beside him, shiu kong flicks ash from the cigarette hanging off his lip, leaning forward slightly as he talks. “background check on her partner came back clean. his money’s real, and his business checks out.”
sukuna’s eyes scan the pages. bank statements. employment records. a couple photos clipped in.
“those three years she disappeared?” shiu continues, “she spent em in china for about a year. then the rest in the UK.”
sukuna flips a page. his brows pull together slightly. “so?” he mutters.
toji exhales through his nose, scratching at his chin. “yeah, shiu, i thought you’d come back with somethin’ we can actually use.”
shiu snorts quietly. “you didn’t read all of it,” he shuts toji up. sukuna keeps reading, slower now. there’s a pause. then shiu tilts his head, cigarette shifting between his lips. “it doesn’t look like she went overseas just to hide from those lawsuits.”
sukuna’s eyes flick up briefly. “what d’ya mean?”
shiu leans back slightly, more relaxed than the tension building in front of him. “after she got out of jail, she worked at that loan company job for about a year, that’s where she got tied up with the lawsuit.”
“i know that part,” sukuna cuts in, flipping another page. “that’s all you fucking gave us a million weeks ago.”
“yeah, well,” shiu shrugs, ignoring the aggression. “one of the clients she was stealing from wasn’t just some idiot with bad credit and needed a loan.”
toji’s brows lift slightly, sitting up and waving sukuna to hand him back the folder,
“the guy had some connections,” shiu continues. “small operations, but enough to make things messy. when the lawsuit started closing in, he’s the one that got her out.”
sukuna’s jaw tightens.
“paid for her to leave the country,” shiu adds. “china first. she worked under him there, nothing flashy. looks like she was just working as a personal accountant and was moving around money, setting up accounts under different names. it’s pretty clean to not get caught, but if someone looks closer the numbers are just off.”
toji reads through the last few pages. they were thinner. notes, partial records, but not enough to actually start any shit with her.
“and the UK?” toji asks.
shiu shrugs again. “that’s where she met her new guy. your step-mom’s got a type, men with money and enough ego to overlook the rest.”
toji huffs a quiet laugh at that. sukuna doesn’t. he’s still staring at the page in toji’s hands, arms crossed over his chest.
“she cut ties with the china contact once she secured her new situation,” shiu adds. “so she got a completely clean slate with this guy. or as clean as she could manage. she started working for him as an accountant, still works for him, but dating now.”
toji glances at him. “it’s something.”
“it’s not enough,” sukuna snaps immediately. his patience has been shot for weeks. watching choso. waiting. thinking.
“we can push this on her,” toji starts, leaning forward, “and bring up the lawsuit again, tie it with this—”
“she’ll deny it,” sukuna cuts him off.
“then we—”
“she’ll deny it,” sukuna repeats, sharper this time, eyes flicking up, irritation clear. “and she’ll try an get choso, and he’s fucking desperate to give her a chance. no. you said we’d make her leave for good, so this is all fucking shit!”
sukuna runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling hard through his nose, chest rising and falling heavier now.
“i need something more concrete,” he mutters. “something she can’t fucking, snake her way out of like a fucking cockroach.”
“i can look into that china contact,” shiu says simply. “I’ve got some people that can ask around.”
toji glances at sukuna, jaw setting before he nods. “yeah, that’s good.”
sukuna doesn’t respond. his eyes are staring up, jaw tightening. the ocean crashes in the distance. he doesn’t make a move once shiu leaves. not until toji is clearing his throat.
“i don’t know what you’re expecting.”
sukuna feels something harden inside. eyes deadly sharp as they glare at his long time friend and coach.
“you think we’re gonna uncover some body with her fingerprints on them?”
sukuna tsks, rolling his eyes, “shut the fuck up.”
“I’m jus’ asking.”
“you’re being a fucking dick!” sukuna’s voice pierces the air, chest heaving. his heart pounds against his ribs, blood flowing in his ears. “she started messaging me, and we don’t have shit.”
toji’s gaze takes in the twenty-three year old, a small, but strong, string tugs in his chest as he remembers when he was thirteen. his jaw tightens. “i talked to wasuke, we both agree you should go.”
sukuna’s eyes snap up. harsh. mean. “what?”
“accept the offer, and go train with the team. it’s not the same club that asked you when y’ were in high school, but this is what you’ve been workin’ for. I’ll deal with shit here.”
a sudden fury crashes full force into the man. “you have no clue what the fuck I want—i want this shit to go away. if ya think I’m pissed because of the offer, I’m not. I’m pissed that I don’t have shit on that woman when you fucking told me to trust your dipshit friend!” sukuna’s words bite the air.
“yeah sure,” toji sighs. sukuna’s easily setting him off the more he pushes back.
sukuna snarls, eyes dark, his head tilts, sizing up the thirty-two year old coach. “ya have more to say?”
his vein snaps.
toji’s suddenly standing right in front of him, close enough that the heat from sukuna’s skin hasn’t even cooled yet. emerald eyes dark, steady, not backing down. for a second, it looks like it could tip. like sukuna might start something.
his shoulders are tight, chest still rising hard, jaw locked so tight it aches. the vein in his neck ticks, pulse loud in his ears, everything in him might snap in seconds. but toji doesn’t move. doesn’t flinch.
“yeah,” he says, voice lower now. calmer, but not softer. “i do.”
sukuna’s lip curls slightly, head tilting just enough to show teeth. “then say it.”
toji exhales through his nose. “you’re losing control like a fucking kid again.”
heavy silence follows. then sukuna lets out a dry, humorless huff. “watch your mouth.”
“or what?” toji shoots back immediately. “you gonna swing at me?” that almost does it. sukuna’s fist flexes at his side, fingers twitching like they’re deciding whether or not to hit his fucking coach. “you’re pissed,” toji continues, cutting through before he can react, “and I’m not blaming you. but you’re acting like you can fix this overnight.”
“i can fix it,” sukuna snaps.
“no,” toji fires back just as fast, “you can’t.” his words hit, it’s how sure he sounds. sukuna’s eyes darken, something sharp flashing behind them. “you don’t have enough yet,” toji goes on, voice steady, and grounded making sukuna seethe. “and you forcing it isn’t gonna make it show up faster.”
“so i just sit around for another fucking month?” sukuna bites out. “wait for her to walk in and fuck everything up again!?”
“you think hovering over choso every second is gonna stop that?” toji counters. “you’re burning yourself out for nothing.”
sukuna scoffs, stepping forward this time, closing the already small space between them, eyes deadly to anyone other than the very man he’s targeting. “you don’t get to tell me how to handle my family.”
toji’s jaw tightens. “i’m not. i’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna fuck up your future if you keep this up.”
there’s that word again. future. sukuna’s expression twists instantly.
“don’t start,” he warns, low.
“you think this offer’s just gonna sit there and wait for you?” toji presses anyway. “you’ve been busting your ass for this since you screwed up and got—“
“i said don’t—”
“and by some fucking miracle you managed to get an offer again,” toji cuts him off, sharper now, voice much louder, “and you’re ready to throw it because of her!?”
that’s it. sukuna shoves him. it’s full force. enough to break the line they’ve been holding. toji stumbles back, just to block a swing from sukuna. his arm hooks with the kid, locking him up as sukuna grunts, not fighting back with the amount of strength he started with.
“don’t,” sukuna says, voice rougher now, chest heaving again in the hold. “don’t fuckin’ act like you’re responsible for me.”
toji grits, muscles flexing. “I’m not tryna act like your guardian angel,” he starts, his words coming out careful…almost hesitant thinking about the right words to describe his bond with the itadori family. “but I know what it looks like when you let your past decide everything for you.” his grip tightens around sukuna’s arm, almost hugging him, except for the way sukuna’s arm is forcefully trapped between their bodies, and the other is locked against his back. “i screwed up, not you.”
sukuna’s jaw tightens again, but this time there’s something else under it. something sharper, old wounds stinging.
“i said i’ll deal with it,” toji adds. sukuna struggles momentarily, before toji lets go, letting sukuna fall back on the grass, sun beating harshly above them. sweat slides down sukuna’s chest, fists gripping the dirt.
sukuna doesn’t answer. his gaze fixes on the ground between his legs. white lines worn into the grass. the ocean beyond it, endless and loud. this is what he’s been working for. he knows that. but….his jaw clenches again.
“you can’t be in two places at once,” toji says, standing above him. “so decide where you want to be.”
another long silence stretches between them. wind picks up slightly off the water, cooling the sweat on sukuna’s skin, but it does nothing for the heat sitting under it. finally, he scoffs under his breath and looks away. his hand comes up, running through his damp hair again.
“i’m not done with this,” he mutters, more to himself than toji.
toji shakes his head.
sukuna doesn’t look back at him. doesn’t give him anything else. but the way his shoulders sit, the way his jaw won’t unclench, it’s clear he’s not letting it go. he just doesn’t know which fire to put out first.
the silence breaks with a loud cheer in the distance. it cuts clean through the tension and heat.
“SUMMMMMERRRRRR BREAAAKKKKK!!!!!”
the voice is unmistakable. sukuna exhales through his nose, head tipping slightly to the side as his arm drops just enough for him to see across the field.
yuuji.
already halfway across, sprinting like his life depends on it. megumi’s right behind him, trying his best to keep up, eyes set in on yuuji’s back in determination. somewhere between the halfway line and the benches, both their backpacks go flying off, hitting the grass with dull thuds. yuuji doesn’t even look back, and just runs faster.
sukuna’s head drops back again, eyes closing briefly, jaw tightening as he lets the noise wash over him, and pull him out of his own head for a second. and he knows what’s coming. he doesn’t move, but braces.
“RYOOO—!”
yuuji slams into him full force, arms hooking around his shoulders as he crashes down, laughing loud and bright. sukuna grunts, body shifting slightly from the hit, but his hand comes up automatically, gripping the back of yuuji’s shirt to keep him from face-planting into his chest.
“fuck you’re heavier—” sukuna mutters, voice rough, but there’s no bite to it.
yuuji laughs, already climbing onto him, half dangling off his shoulders as sukuna finally pushes himself up to stand. “we’re free! FINALLY!!”
megumi finally reaches them, bent slightly at the waist, breathing heavier than he’d like, shooting yuuji an annoyed look. “you cheated.”
“i didn’t!” yuuji fires back immediately, still clinging to sukuna like he’s part of him now
“you started early,” megumi argues.
“did not!”
sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his shoulders once as he stands fully, yuuji still hanging off him like dead weight. “both of you are fucking annoying.”
toji snorts quietly from the side, reaching out to ruffle megumi’s hair. the kid lets him, even if he rolls his eyes a second later, already distracted again by yuuji’s loud arguing.
“you’re just mad you lost again,” yuuji adds, grinning. “you can never beat me in a race.”
“i didn’t lose.”
“you did—!”
“i said i didn’t—”
“yo yo yo!” the voice cuts in before it can escalate, loud and familiar as two more figures cross the field. gojo strolls up like he owns the place, blue shorts hanging low on his hips, white tee clinging just enough from the heat. beside him, geto moves slower, black tee, baseball cap low over his eyes, hands shoved casually into his short pockets. gojo’s grin widens the second he gets a good look at sukuna.
“damn,” he lets out, dragging the word. “you look like shit.”
geto huffs a quiet laugh, eyes flicking over sukuna’s drenched frame. “you’ve been out here all day?”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. he just grabs the hem of his shorts, tugging them slightly where they cling, sweat still dripping down his torso, catching along the lines of muscle, the ink on his skin darker from it, a tan already forming.
“what gave it away?” he mutters dryly.
yuuji is still draped over him, completely unbothered, arms locked around his shoulders like he’s not planning on letting go of his older brother anytime soon. “he’s been training like crazy,” he chimes in proudly, like it’s his accomplishment.
gojo leans in slightly, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. “yeah, no shit. he looks like he just crawled out of a fight.”
“lost, probably,” geto adds under his breath, glancing at toji who’s uncharacteristically lost in thought behind megumi.
sukuna scoffs, finally shifting his shoulder just enough to jostle yuuji. yuuji only laughs, tightening his grip like a damn leech. “can we play a game with you guys?” he asks, already bouncing with energy.
sukuna drags a hand through his damp hair, strands sticking to his forehead and temples, sweat still tracking down the sharp lines of his throat. his chest rises slow, controlled, muscles still tight from drills, veins faintly visible along his forearms, and v-line. “get off my back,” he mutters, voice rough.
yuuji drops immediately.
“I call being on ryo’s team!!” yuuji cheers, sliding in at sukuna’s side. for a second, it cuts through everything, the tension, the heat, the lingering frustration.
sukuna huffs, faint smile ghosting his lips. he ruffles the kid’s hair, rough but familiar. “yeah, yeah.”
gojo claps his hands together, already grinning like an idiot. “well, me and meg—”
“I’m with suguru,” megumi cuts flatly, already stepping toward geto without even looking at gojo.
there’s a beat. then sukuna snorts. geto does too, low and amused, adjusting his cap as his eyes flick between them.
gojo’s face twists in pure betrayal. “what the hell?!”
the ocean breeze rolls through the field, tugging at their loose shirts and damp hair, carrying the sound of distant waves, and the very obvious attention of people lingering along the edges. a few girls pause mid-walk, eyes dragging over the group, not subtle.
sukuna stands there shirtless, skin tan and sun-warmed, slick with sweat. his tattoos stretch across his chest and wrapping down his arms, and around his thick thighs. every movement pulls something sharp and defined beneath his skin. beside him, geto’s build is just as unfair, broad shoulders, dark shirt clinging slightly before he peels it off, exposing toned muscle and smooth skin. his silver chain catches the light, muscles flexing as he reties his long hair. and then there’s gojo, tall, bright, obnoxiously pretty, who yanks his shirt off with zero shame, tossing it aside like he knows exactly how many eyes just followed the motion, and his muscles were no joke.
“i’m not sitting out,” gojo declares, already walking backward onto the field. “we’re doing three on three. coach, you’re in.”
toji just exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he expected this the second they showed up.
“be on our team!” yuuji immediately points at gojo, beaming.
gojo lights up like he just got chosen for something life-changing. “finally—someone that finally sees my value.”
that lasts about two seconds
“you’re goalie,” yuuji adds brightly. sukuna lets out a sharp laugh, head tipping back for a second. geto laughing louder across from them.
gojo freezes. “what the hell?!”
“well i’m playing,” yuuji says, like it’s obvious, gesturing between himself and sukuna. “and me and ryo are a team—”
“i play with him all the time!” gojo cuts in, scandalized.
yuuji scrunches his face, brutally honest. “yeah but…you guys hate each other.”
there’s a pause.
“…that’s not—” gojo starts, then stops, jaw ticking, and veins straining. he groans anyway, dragging himself toward the goal with exaggerated misery, muttering under his breath the whole time. sukuna and geto watch him go, lips twitching.
on the other side, toji doesn’t argue when he gets shoved into the same position for megumi and geto’s team. he just cracks his neck once, slow, eyes already tracking the field, mind anywhere but the game.
as the teams settle and the heat clings to their skin, the game starts off light. it’s almost easy. the ball moves quick between them, laughter cutting through the salt-heavy air as yuuji and megumi try to outdo each other, their smaller frames darting across the field with reckless energy. geto plays loose, smooth with it, backing megumi with an ease that makes it look effortless, while sukuna shadows yuuji, letting the kid take the lead, stepping in only when needed. for a moment, it feels normal. just a summer game.
gojo, unfortunately, blocks almost everything. he stretches out in the goal, long muscular limbs moving with lazy precision, talking shit the entire time. “stupid fucking game.”
and every now and then he lets one slip—on purpose—just enough for megumi to make a few shots, to keep him from scowling too hard. but toji doesn’t do the same. every shot yuuji takes, every burst of effort, gets shut down hard. clean catches. sharp deflections. not even a hint of mercy. and slowly, that grin on yuuji’s face starts to strain.
and that’s when sukuna shifts, a scowl pulls at his mouth. it’s subtle at first. he puts a little more force behind his kicks, losing patience. and then it builds faster, he feels something heavier sitting under his skin. and his focus drifts, between yuuji, the goalpost and everything else. the offer.
fuck!
the weight of this shit summer presses behind his eyes. and toji is just standing there, catching everything like it’s nothing. like sukuna isn’t trying hard enough. his jaw tightens as he drives the ball again, and again. harder each time, forcing plays, and, pushing past those friendly match into something rougher, more aggressive. geto notices. gojo definitely notices.
but sukuna doesn’t stop until the game ends just as messy and close and yuuji’s team barely scraping the win
the field immediately breaks into noise with yuuji and megumi arguing over fouls, both talking over each other with flushed faces and wild gestures.
“we already called that as offside,” yuuji shouts, shaking his head.
megumi scoffs, pointing, “you couldn’t even explain the offside rule to me a month ago!”
“doesn’t matter!”
sukuna’s barely listening as he grabs a towel and drags it over his face, and chest. sweat drips down his jaw, his torso and back gleaming under the sun. his free hand shoves a bottle into yuuji’s chest.
“drink,” he mutters. yuuji obeys without question, still mid-argument as he chugs.
gojo strolls over, dramatic as ever, wiping at his neck with a grimace. “this sweat is from the sun, not from a workout,” he complains, like he wasn’t just throwing himself around ten seconds ago. “fucking waste of an hour,” he adds, slapping his sunglasses on and stretching his arms behind his head.
the frat president is completely oblivious to the mini crowd off the field, until he turns his head to feel a gust from the ocean. that’s when he catches a couple girls nearby staring. his lip curls on instinct and easily flashes them a grin, and a lazy wave.
geto snorts under his breath beside him, adjusting his cap, equally as drenched. sukuna doesn’t care. his eyes are already elsewhere. specifically on the man he was arguing you with earlier.
toji stands near the benches, turned slightly away, phone pressed to his ear. his posture different. sukuna bites down on his jaw, something tightens in his chest. ‘I’ll handle it’ my ass.
his gaze flicks back to yuuji, still arguing, “why isn’t choso with you?”
yuuji doesn’t glance away from megumi, “i dunno, i walked here from school.”
“i told choso to bring ya over, gramps wanted a quiet friday,” sukuna frowns.
“he’s probably practicing. the competition is tomorrow,” yuuji thinks.
that rips gojo’s attention away from the girls, “ohh damn! that’s the battle of the bands thing right?”
yuuji nods, beaming as he recalls how much choso has been talking about it, “cho showed me a couple videos from the other bands that signed up, and they’re sooooo lame compared to him!”
sukuna listens. choso’s been practicing almost every night, usually at ino’s place since gramps would get cranky. but before kaori rose from dead over three months ago, choso was updating sukuna around the clock, including—
“i guess he found a way to pay the submission fee,” gojo tosses so casually it almost passes,.
sukuna’s brows pinch, head turning slightly. “how d’ya know about the submission fee?”
gojo blinks, like it’s obvious. “choso told me,” he shrugs, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “back in april. remember when he ditched school and came to the house? kid was stressin’ about it.”
sukuna stills, “…he told you that?”
“yeah,” gojo hums, a little smug now. “said he was tryna handle it himself. didn’t wanna ask you ‘cause you’ve got,” he gestures vaguely, “your whole thing going on. y’know. life crisis, anger issues, whatever.”
geto snorts under his breath. yuuji is still arguing with megumi, completely oblivious. but sukuna doesn’t hear any of it. his jaw tightens, something cold slipping down his spine, because choso never said a word to him. not once. not about money. not about struggling, not about needing help.
and then it clicks.
a month ago the house had been quieter than usual. it was when sukuna stopped by on the weekend before the last week of classes and finals. gramps was out, yuuji was inside with megumi and nobara. sukuna had just come back from talking with toji, when he heard it, music bleeding out from the garage.
he hadn’t meant to stop, but he did. he leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, he watched through the cracked door. choso stood in the middle of the cluttered space, guitar slung low, hair tied back messily. ino was adjusting something on an amp while the others tuned, voices overlapping in the garage.
“we still need the fee by next week,” ino mentions.
“i know,” choso muttered, fingers dragging through his hair. “i’m working on it.”
“you gonna ask your brother?”
choso’s head snapped up immediately. “no.”
too fast. too sharp.
“why not? he could literally—”
“i said no.” choso’s voice cut through the garage, firm, and defensive. “i’ll figure it out.”
there’d been a pause. awkward tension between the boys.
“…you sure?”
choso exhaled, shoulders dropping just a little, but he didn’t look back at them. just adjusted his grip on the guitar. “he’s got enough shit going on,” he said, quieter now. “i don’t need to add to it…I’ll have my half by June.”
and that was it. they moved on and started playing again. and sukuna left before they finished the song. competition’s usually cost around three hundred dollars. if he can’t figure it out himself, he’ll eventually ask his older brother for help. he always does…
but now, back on the field, the ocean air feels heavier. his tongue presses hard against the inside of his cheek.
“he didn’t say anything to me,” sukuna mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
gojo tilts his head. “yeah…i figured.”
and that makes something in sukuna’s chest twist, sharp and ugly. because now the timeline lines up too cleanly. kaori showing up. choso being curious about her. the fee. choso needing money. choso asking him to talk to her. and then— that bank transfer.
his gaze drops, jaw locking as the pieces start to settle into place in a way he really, really doesn’t like.
did he meet with kaori?
———
the house is quiet when sukuna gets back. it’s late—past midnight—and the only light on is the dull flicker from the tv in the living room. the front door clicks shut behind him, the smell of alcohol and citrus still clinging faintly to his clothes from his summer job at the bar. his shoulders ache, muscles heavy from the day, but his mind is louder than anything else.
the news drones on. wasuke sits in his usual spot, hunched slightly forward, a blanket thrown over his legs despite the summer heat. he doesn’t look over when sukuna walks in. he pauses for a second, then drops onto the couch beside his gramps with a low exhale, elbows resting on his knees, mind anything but calm. the only thing he could think about during his late shift was choso asking kaori for money.
“…how do you think choso’s doing?” his deep voice breaks the silence.
wasuke grunts, unimpressed. “you’re the one hovering over him like a leech.”
“you are,” wasuke cuts him off, finally glancing at him. his eyes are sharp, even through the fatigue. “kid can’t breathe without you watching him while he shits.”
sukuna scoffs quietly, looking away. his jaw tightens, tongue pressing against his cheek. “he’s ignoring me still.”
“so let him.” the response is immediate, and it makes something in sukuna’s chest twist. he leans back into the couch, arms crossing loosely, gaze drifting to the tv but not really seeing it. the silence stretches for a beat, filled only by the low murmur of the broadcast.
“…he didn’t tell me about the money,” sukuna says finally, voice low and rougher now. “for the competition tomorrow.” wasuke doesn’t react right away. just shifts slightly in his seat. “he found a way to get it,” sukuna adds, eyes narrowing faintly. “on his own.”
another beat.
“…and you’re mad about that.”
sukuna exhales sharply through his nose. “i don’t like not knowing where the fuck it came from.”
wasuke hums. “so ask him.”
“he’ll lie, he already lied.”
“then that’s his problem.”
sukuna’s head snaps slightly, irritation spiking. “it becomes my problem if he’s getting mixed up with—” he cuts himself off. jaw tensing.
“…with her?” his gramps asks, voice colder.
the word hangs there without being said. kaori. sukuna doesn’t answer. but he doesn’t need to, his silence does it for him.
wasuke exhales slowly, leaning back into the couch, eyes drifting back to the tv. “i told you i want nothing to do with that woman,” he mutters.
“i know.”
“then stop bringing her into this house without her even bein’ here.”
sukuna’s jaw clenches, fingers tapping once against his arm before going still. “i’m not bringing her anywhere. she’s the one tryna get to choso and yuu.”
“and you’re letting her.”
sukuna blood spikes, “what?! how am I letting her! you want me to pull the same shit you did for me and do nothing?!”
wasuke’s expression hardens…
kaori’s voice could slice through walls, through skin. and his father would just stand there…patient…useless. and she tore into everything. that house was a fucking hellhole.
but wasuke didn’t ask questions, or comment. he didn’t bat an eye when sukuna stayed the extra night when visiting, or when he eventually brought more bags and stayed permanently.
“…if it’s still unclear to you, I don’t want her fucking everything up again,” sukuna mutters, quieter now. the tv flickers. some anchor talking about something sukuna could care less about.
“you left when you were around his age,” wasuke continues, voice gruffer now, but steadier. “you made your choice. it was a good one.” a pause. “but those boys didn’t.”
sukuna’s eyes lower.
“you kept choso over longer when they’d visit on the weekends,” wasuke says. “yuuji doesn’t even remember half of it.” he shifts, blanket rustling. “you don’t get to make their choices for them now just because you think you know better.”
sukuna’s chest tightens, “i’m not—”
“you are,” wasuke interrupts again, harsher this time. “you’re scared—“
that makes sukuna’s head snap up. his eyes flash, in defensive, anger raging. “i’m not scared of her-“
“not of her,” wasuke says simply. “of what happens if you’re wrong.”
the room goes still. completely still….
what if choso did go to her? what if he wanted to? what if he likes her? sukuna’s jaw locks, a cold anger bubbling up inside, old wounds opening as he recalls how—
“…she’s not good for them,” sukuna says, voice low and certain.
wasuke doesn’t argue that, he just sighs, long and tired, rubbing a hand over his aged face. “yeah,” he says. “but locking ‘em up isn’t gonna make it go away either.” sukuna looks away again, jaw tight. “couldn’t teach you shit because whenever I’d tell ya to do something, you’d do the opposite.”
he doesn’t respond…why are teenagers so difficult?
“and let me know if you’re gonna go to that training thing overseas.”
sukuna’s head snaps. “how do ya know about that?”
wasuke doesn’t bat an eye. “choso saw it in yuuji’s room and asked me about it.”
sukuna’s jaw tenses, sinking further into the couch, muscles tightening and mind pounding. his gramps continues watching, eyes ahead as his short tempered grandson quietly sits beside him.
sukuna’s room is dark when he finally pushes the door open. empty and quiet since yuuji’s at megumi’s. sukuna drags a hand down his face, kicking the door shut behind him before peeling off his shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor. his jeans follow, shoved down and discarded without care until he’s left in just his boxers. the fan hums lazily in the corner, warm summer air clinging to his skin, still faintly sticky from his shift.
he drops onto his bed with a low exhale, one arm thrown over his eyes for a second, then his phone’s in his hand. mindless, numb doom scrolling. his thumb flicks up, up, up tapping on the string of insta stories.
gojo with multiple stories from today. yuuji mid-sprint across the field, megumi scowling in the background, another of gojo grinning like an idiot with geto, toji somewhere behind them looking half-interested at best. there’s one of sukuna too—shirtless, sweaty, mid-play—clearly taken without him noticing.
he clicks his tongue.
next. geto reposted the same ones gojo had tagged him in. a few others of the soccer ball, and one of sukuna yelling and pointing at gojo.
he scowls. next— his thumb pauses mid-scroll. he taps before he can think about it. it’s a repost from shoko’s story. you’re sprawled out on a gurney, knocked out cold in your scrubs, one arm hanging off the side like you just gave up mid-shift.
his lip quirks faintly. then another photo, you and shoko again, except now you’re slumped over the counter in a bar, still dressed in scrubs, cheek pressed to your arm resting on the surface, and completely knocked out again.
“the fuck…” sukuna huffs under his breath. his thumb lingers on the photo, then he taps your profile. his eyes flick over your dashboard, clicking the most recent photo. he’d already seen it, you haven’t posted since winter break, but his eyes still linger on the photo. on your face. your lips. he scrolls through your dash again, tapping on your highlights in hopes of finding a photo that’ll get him going…
his room is quiet, no one present to see how he quietly stalks your page, hand resting just above his—
BUZZ
his phone slips—smacking him straight in the face.
“fuck—!” he groans, hand flying up to his face as he answers, irritation already bleeding into his tone.
“hello?” your voice comes through, soft, and a little unsure.
“what,” he huffs, rubbing his face.
there’s a shift on your end. fabric, maybe, moving. “are you busy right now?”
“no, it’s fucking one am,” he snaps automatically, voice rough with exhaustion.
“right,” you murmur, a small pause. “sounds like I got you at a wrong time though?”
“you didn’t,” he says, a little quieter.
your lips purse…then, “how’s your summer?”
sukuna’s brow quirks, shifting on his bed, one arm tucking behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “you called to ask how I am?”
“well we haven’t talked in almost a month-ish,” you say, casual, because it is, neither of you batting an eye about it. but he can picture that little shrug you do. “so like…yeah. how are you?”
something in his chest shifts as he exhales through his nose, giving in anyway. “fine.”
“yeah?” there’s a small smile in your voice now. he hums. “I saw satoru’s story. you guys looked like you were having fun.”
“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “my brother’s are off for break now.”
“ooo, fun,” you say softly, the word stretching a little.
the conversation flows casually, too comfortable for either of you to notice. “you back home doing the hospital thing then.”
you hum, then with a slight pause, “yeah.”
he shifts again, phone pressed closer to his ear without realizing. “looks like you’re sleeping the whole time,” he teases lightly, voice low.
there’s a small scoff on your end, breathy. “shut up. those were like—very strategic naps.”
“on a fucking gurney?” he snorts.
“listen,” you start, a little defensive now, a little more awake. “those shifts suck, and if i don’t sleep when i can, i’ll actually kill myself.”
“dramatic.”
“I’m never dramatic,” you shoot back, then quieter, “I’m literally exhausted all the time.”
there’s a beat. sukuna’s gaze drifts to the ceiling again, something softer settling in his chest without permission. “…sounds like it,” he mutters.
there’s another pause, and it doesn’t feel awkward, it’s familiar, like no time has passed at all and yet it has. his fingers tap idly against his stomach, mind quieter than it’s been all night.
“…you hate it there?” he asks after a second, tone more neutral now, less bite.
your exhale comes slower this time, heavier. “yeah,” you mutter honestly, unaware of the way sukuna’s jaw shifts slightly. then there’s a slight shifting on your end again. “four more weeks of this,” you add.
sukuna doesn’t realize how much he actually wants to hear your talk, hear your voice, something calm settling in his chest as he hums, hoping you’ll continue talking, and luckily you do.
“the best part is shoko being here,” you talk mindlessly, voice soft, clear that you’re trying not to make a lot of noise.
“and the worst part?” sukuna pokes, earning a light snort from you.
“my dad hovering over my shoulder and interrogating me,” you sigh, “can you talk to me?”
his brow quirks, “we are talking, you called me.”
you frown, rolling your eyes, “yeah to have like a conversation about something that’s not this dumb program.”
“and I’m a great conversationalist,” sukuna’s tone is laced with sarcasm.
“the best,” you add on, smile lifting your lips when you hear him snort. he exhales, his breath moving through the speaker and right into your ear, reminding you when it was really pressed close to you, warm and gentle.
“i’ve been working at a bar,” sukuna starts, mind slowly piecing together what he should talk about.
“for real?”
“yeah, is that shocking,” he throws, voice steady, barely reacting.
“no, i can picture it,” you coolly reply.
“smartass.” sukuna exhales, then continues. “since we’re getting deeper into summer people are moving into their beach houses.”
“Oo fancy.”
and maybe it was the slight comments that allowed sukuna to continue rambling about some annoying customers, or it could be your little questions that eased the knots in his chest. but sukuna felt natural speaking, telling you about moments in the last three weeks. and even touching on a subject very sore to him…
“oh wow that’s great. I’ve haven’t gone to a battle of the bands competition since I was high school,” you say, peaking sukuna’s interest in seconds.
“you were part of a band?”
you shake your head, “no lol,” you laugh, “my boyfriend was.”
sukuna goes quiet for half a second? not long enough for you to clock it, but long enough for something sharp to flicker under his skin.
“boyfriend,” he repeats, tone flat, he doesn’t notice.
you hum lightly, shifting on your bed. “yeah, from high school.”
“hm.” there’s a pause again. not awkward, just…thicker now. he doesn’t ask why you broke up. doesn’t ask anything that obvious. he doesn’t care, but still… “you lose your virginity to him?” he asks, casual.
you blink at your ceiling, lips pressing together. “as if,” you pause, “i don’t think i actually liked him like that to let him go all the way.”
sukuna’s brow twitches faintly, “what, so he was just there?” he scoffs.
you let out a small laugh. “kinda. he was cool when he was part of the band, but i think he liked me more than i liked him…which made me feel kinda bad.”
“figures.”
you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. “whatever.” but you’re smiling.
there’s another pause, shorter this time, then he tilts his head slightly against his pillow, voice dipping just a bit. “so what’d you let him do?”
“kissing, a little touching over the clothes…i dunno,” you slowly begin to recall the memories from high school. “he was…cringey.” you hesitate, then add, “he was always talking, but didn’t do much of anything else.”
a quiet huff of amusement leaves him, his lips twitch up. “talking,” he echoes.
“yeah,” you sigh. “like—texting. sexting. all that.”
“and you didn’t like it?”
you shake your head instinctively, “it was so…” you cringe just thinking back about it. “cringey and boring.”
there’s a small shift on his end, sheets rustling as he sits up a little more against his headboard, phone tucked closer to his ear. “boring?” he repeats, slower now, voice dropping.
“yeah,” you mumble. “it just felt…fake. like i was supposed to say certain things, or react a certain way because he was getting off…just gave me the biggest ick.” you pause, then add quieter, “and it never did anything for me.”
there’s a slight pause as sukuna goes quiet again, then—
“…so what does?” his voice is rougher now, deeper, slipping into something more familiar.
you blink, heat creeping up your neck at the shift in tone. “…what?”
“you said it’s boring,” he continues, slow and deliberate. “so what isn’t?”
your breath hitches, just a little, and he hears it. of course he does. it’s the one thing he knows about you. you wet your lips, suddenly very aware of how you’re laying, how your voice sounds, how he sounds.
“…i don’t know,” you deflect weakly.
“that’s not an answer.”
“it is when i’m half asleep,” you mumble, heat settling in your stomach. the house is quiet. your room even more.
he huffs quietly, a faint edge of a smirk, “…so if i started talking,” he says, almost offhand, like it’s nothing, “you’d just get bored and hang up?”
your stomach flips, because you know what he’s doing, and he knows you know.
“…no,” you say, softer now. you hesitate then, quieter, honest without meaning to be, because why else did you call him…your mind had drifted to him, and you clicked his number without thinking twice… “keep talking to me.”
that’s all it takes. there’s a shift on his end, barely audible, but it feels like the air tightens between you through the phone. sukuna exhales slowly through his nose, heat crawling up his neck.
“yeah?” he murmurs. you hum, softly. he didn’t realize how much he enjoyed your voice, so he continues talking, voice deeper, the way he speaks when it’s just the two of you, and when you’re underneath him… “you don’t post a lot.”
your brow quirks, “like on instagram?” he hums. “were you stalking me?”
“was just on your profile after i saw your story, then your idiot self calls me,” he huffs remembering the way his phone smacked him in the face. he ignores the way he didn’t feel embarrassed telling you though.
you laugh, “i probably sensed it,” you tease. heat blooming across your cheeks. “you want me posting more?”
his breath hitches.
“I can post if you ask me nicely,” you coo through the speaker, voice warm and light. “what d’ya want to see, ryo?”
the man snorts, biting his lip at the tone in your voice. you’re not making it subtle at all that you want a little bickering this late at night.
“you’d post if i told you too,” he murmurs, slower. “since when do you listen to me.”
you smile into your pillow, cheek warm, fingers idly tracing the fabric of your sheets. “depends how you ask.”
something settles deeper in his chest. “…what’re you doing right now?” sukuna asks, voice lower, steadier, not rushed.
you swallow lightly. “…in bed.”
“yeah?” he hums, hand ghosting over his the subtle bulge in his boxers. “what’re you wearing.”
your lips part, wetting your bottom lip as you exhale, “not much,” you admit, softer now. “shorts.”
“panties?” he asks, and you shake your head making a little noise. “is that the real reason ya called?”
“no,” you mutter, not knowing whether that’s a lie or the truth. of course, the possibility lingered in your mind when you thought of him…then when you clicked his contact…especially after, “i had a long day…and some guy asked for my number.”
sukuna’s hand stills, body going rigid.
“and for some reason…it just made me think of you,” the confession filled the quiet space of your rooms. “but then…i wanted to know, if we still had an agreement together..?”
the question hangs in the air for a moment.
then sukuna shifts, biting back a smirk, “you can let other guys fuck you if you’re so horny.” you frown, chest tightening— “but i can tell you’re afraid they might get scared of ya.”
your lips part, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond.
“you’ll tell em to go faster and they’ll try, then you’ll tell them to go harder and they’ll give ya a look, and then you’ll shake that pretty ass waiting for them to spank it, because you’ll never say how much ya like it out loud,” sukuna’s words flow easily, turning your stomach into knots, thighs pressing together. “isn’t that why you thought of me? i know how wet you’re getting just from my voice.”
your lips part in quiet shock, face burning.
“tell me how drenched your pretty little pussy is,” his voice scratches an itch deep in your core, a small whimper leaving your lips. your hand crawls into your shorts, biting your lip as your slick immediately coats your digits.
“you touching’ yourself?”
“Mhm,” your cute voice flows straight to his cock, his hand moves over his bulge again. “I’m wet, ryo.”
he bites back a groan, “you miss havin my voice pressed against your ear, tellin ya what to do?”
you can’t hold back the whine that barely escapes your throat, sending a wave of heat rushing down to his cock.
“take the shorts off, princess.” sukuna immediately hears the rustling of bedsheets from your end. his hand continues to stroke himself over his boxers. you settle back near the phone with a light exhale. “ya took em off?”
“yes,” you breathe, lips glossy.
“you miss havin’ me there with you?” he listens carefully as you whine softly into the phone. “answer me.”
“yes, i miss you,” you sigh, ghosting a finger over your folds. the light breeze of your bedroom sending a pool of heat between your legs.
“what d’you miss?”
you wet your lips, dipping a finger into your folds. “miss your hands touching me,” your voice softens, juices collecting on your finger, as you slowly drag it up to your clit. “miss when you’d stretch me out.”
sukuna’s jaw clenches, palm pressing against his fully erect cock. “can’t stretch y’rself?”
you make a noise that sends sukuna into orbit. “my fingers are too small.” you wet your lips as you continue playing with your clit, your breath growing heavy. “i hate touching myself.”
“hate’s a strong word,” he snorts, shoving his boxers down, unbothered by the how hard he is. he reaches over for the nightstand before pausing. “fuck.”
“what?” you fingers pause their movement,
sukuna sits back, cock twitching, “forgot I’m not in my room.”
your brow quirks, heart stopping, “where are you then?”
“I mean at the frat. my little brother took over my room here when I moved out,” he explains, biting his lip as he looks down at his cock. “so no lube.”
oh.
heat spreads across your face.
“wish i had your sweet pussy here to get me nice n wet,” sukuna bites. saliva collects in his mouth as he leans forward, and then he spits a fat glob, watching it land right on his engorged tip. “you’re all drenched now, aren’t you?”
your face stings. of course he knows how drenched you are.
“you like playing with your pussy?”
your lips part, finger rubbing tight circles on your clit as sukuna lets out a low grunt. you can hear the distant squelch of his hand moving up and down his cock.
“n-no,” you exhale, cheeks hot.
“no?”
“it’s boring haah,” you confess, but your actions are saying the opposite, especially with the added whine in the end.
sukuna squeezes his base, “it’s boring to touch y’rself talkin’ to me?”
you hum quietly, lips parting, breathless, and uncharacteristically shy. it was the fact that you’re only hearing his voice, when you’re used to seeing him, touching him, the bickering was mutual even if he’d have your ass bruised everytime you quip back…but this time…you’re unbelievably aware of the fact that you’re alone. and maybe that’s why his confidence was overheating your brain in a way that had you touching your poor clit a little quicker.
“even if I tell you how hard my cock is jus’ talking to you. that doesn’t do anything?”
your brain goes dizzy just thinking about sukuna’s thick chubby cock — you don’t even realize the pathetic whine that comes out of you.
“doesn’t make your cunt tighten around those fingers?”
your chest heats up, sweat building across your forehead. “I’m not using my fingers…”
sukuna pauses his strokes, thumb nail digging into his slit, turning his cock a darker shade. “you’re just rubbing that poor nub then?”
a mix of a hum and whine comes out. your fingers slow, mimicking the way sukuna would’ve been touching you, but…it’s not that same, not even close.
“push in a finger.”
your chest rises, legs parting. “mm’kay…” you leave your clit, fingers covered in your honey as you drag them lower, teasing your puckering hole. “it never feels good when I do it myself though,” you mutter.
sukuna twist his wrist up and down his cock. pre oozes down the veins and ridges, unbothered by the fact that it’s been a minute since he’s jerked off himself. the last time was when he was in your room—
he ignores you. “push a finger in, and keep rubbing your clit f’r me.”
you listen, gently pushing a finger in. the satisfying sensation of fullness doesn’t take you over, instead you’re whining softly, breathless as you rub your clit. “it doesn’t feel good ryo.”
“push your fingers deeper, and then ya gotta curl them until you feel that gummy part—“
“it all feels gummy,” you exhale, working your clit faster, not fully realizing your other hand is mimicking the way your fuck buddy fingers you. “haah I’m jus’—“ you suppress your moans, the speaker picking up every hitch in your throat, and quiet whine.
“you fingering yourself, baby?”
your lips part, working yourself more. “y-yea-haah..”
sukuna’s voice drops an octave, hand coming down to cup his heavy balls, working his cock faster. “atta girl.”
heat breaks out.
your glossy lips part, choked moans filling sukuna’s ear.
“keep going—ngh, y’er getting my cock so fucking hard,” he grunts, his biceps bulge, veins on his forearms flexing dangerously as he strokes himself aggressively. you whine a little more, his words making you clamp around your pathetic finger, your clit throbs as you rub tighter circles.
“y-you like my voice?” you don’t mean to make your voice that breathless, but it comes out either way. what you don’t expect is the choked groan that comes from the phone.
“fhuck,” one leg bends up, before butterflying out, fuck he misses your teasing. “you wanna get spanked for that?”
his lip quirks the moment you whine on instinct.
“knew you were a dirty fucking slut,” he grunts strokes picking up. images of your gorgeous face getting all flustered at his words appears in his mind. “ya like gettin’ punished.”
it wasn’t a question, but you still deny it with a cute huff from your end. “I don’t.”
“you do,” he states, tongue dragging across his lip, “you wish I had ya bent over my lap, spanking that pretty ass until ya start crying.”
you hate the way your skin burns, and his name falls from your lips. “I’ve never cried.” his loud, deep, laugh rattles through your speaker, sending a wave of heat to your face. your lips purse, finger curling inside you, but coming out just to rub your puffy clit quicker. “don’ ah laugh at me.”
“you’re a liar,” he snorts between laughs. his cock is throbbing, bulbous tip a dark shade of red as clear pre dribbles at the slit, sliding down the protruding veins and ridges. it was a filthy pathetic mess how hard he is. “fucking asking for a spanking now.”
“mmm not,” you pant, lips parting as you get closer, his voice the only thing your fixating on. “I’m not haah.”
“you’d still bend over if i asked,” he smirks at the soft whine that leaves your lips. “you’d also pull down your pants just to show me how wet your panties are.” your hand sneaks into your shirt, fingers twisting your nipple. “then you’d get embarrassed when I pinch your little clit through them, scolding you for getting all drenched when this should be a punishment.”
“fuuh…” you choke.
you’re so precious.
his grip tightens on his cock, jerking it harder, abs clenching at the knot coiling inside. “then you’d start crying when I start making ya count each spank.”
“I wouldn’t,” your lips are so wet, sukuna can practically hear how glossy they are.
“you’re so dumb when you get wet and needy, you don’t even realize you’re crying,” he coos, “I think ya do it on purpose.”
“I don’t.”
“you do,” sukuna’s grunt hits your ear. his hand is jerking his painful cock the squelching is so loud you can hear it. “you know how fucking hard it makes me.”
you whine at the admission, squirming as you draw closer to your relief. tongue poking out, panting into the mic. sukuna groans in response, his throat bops.
“seein’ you look at me, and I know there’s nothin else you’re thinking about except my cock,” he bites his lip at the image he’s conjuring up, just as you call his name, light and sweet. “fuck y’er close?”
“Mhm,” a breathless moan escapes. “gunna cum.”
“haah fuck same,” he keeps going, “fuuck I wanna kiss you so bad.”
you whine, legs trembling as you feel your orgasm start to come.
“miss my dirty girl cumming around my cock ngh,” his grunts aren’t as deep or loud, as they are when he’s fucking you. and that small detail sticks in your mind as you feel the searing white relief wash over you. the warmth floods through your body, slow and heavy, leaving your limbs loose against the sheets.
on the other end, sukuna’s groan comes out heavy and deep, hot ropes shooting onto his abs, hand stroking more cum our as he slowly goes quiet… breathing hard.
after a moment, he shifts, the faint rustle of fabric and movement carrying through the phone, and his head tips back against the pillow, eyes shut. his cock rests on his stomach, white thick cum all over his abs and happy trail. but…
his mind is blank for once. no kaori. no choso. no future clawing at his chest. just you. the sound of you, and it settles something in him in a way he doesn’t question, but just lets it happen, chest rising and falling slower now.
“…you fall asleep?” he mutters after a beat, voice rough, quieter than before.
you shake your head instinctively, even though he can’t see it, lashes fluttering as you stare at nothing. “no…just coming down,” you murmur, voice soft, airy, like you’re barely holding onto it. there’s a pause. then, almost sheepish, “kinda anticlimactic…”
he huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, glancing down briefly at the mess he made himself before dragging his clean hand over his face.
“yeah,” he agrees, voice gravelly, worn out from the day.
you roll onto your side, curling slightly into your pillow, phone pressed closer to your ear. neither of you says anything for a few seconds, just the quiet sound of each other breathing. an unspoken calmness easing you both.
on his end, you hear him shifting again, something soft brushing against fabric, the faint sound of movement as he cleans up without thinking much about it. it’s mundane, grounded, and real. and all you can think about is how different it would feel if he were actually here. how warm he’d be beside you. how easy it would be to just turn your head and press into him instead of speaking into a phone. your fingers curl into your sheets a little tighter at the thought.
“…you’re quiet again,” he murmurs, settling back in his bed, casually lifting his hips and pulling his boxers up.
“just tired,” you whisper back. there’s another pause, as sukuna hears you yawn, his eyes grow heavy. “I’m gonna go to sleep, but,” you yawn again, “send a video of your brother tomorrow.”
sukuna smiles, “gonna think about your ex?”
“as if,” you snort, “i rarely ever think about that guy.”
sukuna’s tucks an arm behind his head, “so you think about him?”
you yawn, rolling onto your stomach, “I’m gonna go to sleep now.”
sukuna doesn’t comment on the not-so-subtle deflection, he just lets the silence sit for a second longer before muttering a low, “g’night.”
you echo it back, softer. neither of you hangs up right away, but eventually the line clicks. and the room is quiet again.
he doesn’t move for a while after. he lays there, staring at the ceiling, phone still loose in his hand. the fan hums overhead, pushing around warm summer air lingering through the cracked window. everything feels…slower, quieter, his skin stinky from his orgasm. his mind isn’t clawing at him like it has been for the past three weeks. it’s dulled, softened at the edges, and annoyingly…it’s because of you.
your voice. the way you call his name. the way you needed him, even from miles away.
sukuna exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before finally tossing his phone onto the mattress beside him. his eyes close not long after, body sinking heavier into the bed. and for once sleep comes easy.
the next morning hits hot. the heat sticks to his skin before the sun’s even fully up, and sukuna’s already running. shirtless, drenched in sweat, muscles pulling and flexing with every stride as he cuts along the stretch near the water. his breathing is steady, controlled, but his mind is anything but…it was yesterday, but he expected some information from toji, or shiu. and his gramps words all coming back to him.
everything loops and overlaps, and it presses in from every angle until his jaw is tightening and his pace picks up just a little more, trying to outrun his fucking head.
his shoulders are rising and falling as he slows, sweat dripping down the sharp lines of his chest, his back, and disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. a few early beachgoers glance his way—lingering longer than necessary—but sukuna barely registers it. his mind is still somewhere else. the day goes by like a clock.
every blink and he’s somehow in a new location.
he ends up, back home in the bathroom. shower running. mirror fogging. and somehow his phone is resting on the counter as he’s hunched over, finger swiping—and your profile pulled up.
he scrolls without thinking. his thumb flicking lazily through pictures, your face, your smile, the ones from your study abroad trip, the old ones from nights out. he even goes through your highlights again…he pauses on one. zooms in slightly. his jaw shifts.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, head tipping back for a second like he’s annoyed at himself more than anything else. this is stupid. and yet, his hand won’t stop jerking his cock.
he needs you here.
his thumb taps your name before he can overthink it. the message bar blinks and he stares at it for a second. then types, quick, blunt, like it’s nothing.
send me a pic.
your lips purse as you glance at your phone. you and shoko, by some miracle have a weekend off, and that’s spent lounging in your basement. well, until you’re shifting your attention from the movie, to your phone screen.
what in the world…your fingers tap…
[1:08PM] crybaby: wdym a pic?
[1:08PM] dumbass: need some help with this
*attached photo*
your eyes bulge out of their eye sockets, phone slamming into your chest, hiding your screen, and head whipping up. shoko cranes her neck, focus on the movie still, but giving you a glance, “there wasn’t even a jumpscare.”
your eyes snap to her, “no, I just remembered i had to send my dad this one file…thing… from my—yeah give me one second.” you scramble up to your feet, heading to the stairs.
“you want me to pause—!?” shoko yells after.
within the blink of an eye, you’re back in your room, gawking at the lewd, perverted, uncalled for dick pic you were just sent.
you can recognize sukuna’s chubby engorged cock anywhere. heat crawls up your neck in seconds, the tuft of dark hair at the base and his hand wrapped around the monster, veins protruding and tip flushed red and leaking. your lips purse, controlling the way you feel your pussy clench.
[1:10PM] crybaby: u’re jerking off in the middle of the day?
[1:10PM] dumbass: yea so send a fucking pic so I can get off
[1:10PM] dumbass: ur ig is ass
you tsk, face still warm.
[1:10PM] crybaby: rude
[1:11PM] crybaby: weird asl you’re getting off to my ig anyways
[1:11PM] dumbass: weird asl my dumb ass fuck buddy isn’t fixing my problem
[1:11PM] crybaby: RUDEEEE SO RUDE
sukuna’s head tips forward in irritation. his jaw tightens as he looks down at his painful erection.
[1:12PM] crybaby: srsly tho
[1:12PM] crybaby: you can’t send or show anyone
[1:12PM] dumbass: wtf?? y tf would I do that
[1:13PM] crybaby: it’s almost like you’re in a frat or smt
sukuna tsks.
[1:13PM] dumbass: no one will see the pic
[1:13PM] dumbass: send
[1:12PM] crybaby: say please
his lip twitches….
[1:13PM] dumbass: please
you’re sat on the edge of your bed, dangerous smile plastered on your face.
[1:13PM] crybaby: please what?
he wets his lips, palm squeezing his cock, as starts moving his hand. fuck, you’re such a brat.
[1:14PM] dumbass: please send me pic of you
you’re already taking off your shorts and panties, typing…
[1:15PM] crybaby: I dunno if u sound sincere
sukuna frowns.
[1:15PM] crybaby: send me a voice note
death.
sukuna’s scowl almost cracks the mirror. you’re fucking messing with him, but at this point, he’s in desperate need of release. and unfortunately, he’d rather cum in a second just from looking at a photo of you, than search for a vid on x that’ll get him to cum in hours. so within the next thirty seconds of cursing you out under his breath. the thirty seconds following, was him tapping the audio, and holding his phone close to his lips.
[1:17PM] dumbass: *audio recording*
the first thing you hear is your name, then a distant…grunt…
“can you please,” he practically seethes, voice unbelievably deep… “…send me a goddamn photo. please—ng—“ the audio cuts off his groan.
you’re lips part.
oh. my. god.
your face bursts into flames. you position yourself, kneeling on your bed, phone up, shirt pushed over your breasts. your nipples hard from the cool air. you spread your legs, just wide enough for him to see that you’re completely bare down there. your cheeks sting, eyes darting over the photo, thumb hovering over the send button…
he’s just a fuck buddy….but he’s also a frat guy…you hesitate. your heart beats against your chest, uncharacteristically nervous.
[1:20PM] dumbass: you’re killing me here
fuck, he’s so hot—
[1:20PM] crybaby: *photo attached*
his jaw tightens, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. then he clicks the photo, and his breath catches somewhere in his chest as his eyes drag slowly over the image. your lips slightly parted, your chest, bare and soft under the daylight coming in from your room. the angle’s lazy and careless, barely even trying.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
his hand braces against the counter, fingers spreading slightly against the cool surface as he leans forward, head dipping. his patience, already worn thin from the run, from the past few weeks, from everything. and it’s your picture that has sukuna buckling over, aggressively jerking his swollen cock, zooming in on your tits, then back to your face, and finally shooting his load on himself and the counter.
“fuck.”
you barely make it back downstairs when you receive a photo, followed by a text. you flush at the bottom of the steps, flustered smile pulling at your lips as you stare at the cum covering sukuna’s sculpted abs, and then a thanks.
you heart the message, keeping your comment about how it’s barely been five minutes since you sent the photo, to yourself. and unfortunately the moment you glance up, your smile immediately drops.
“I was calling you,” your mom throws as she walks past you, easily scooping up your four year old niece, yazzy.
“she was ignoring you on purpose.”
your vein pops.
“I wasn’t ignoring her,” you snap at jennie, irritation written all over your voice as shoko pops her head out from the kitchen. “why did you come a week early, I thought you had stuff to do?”
your mom huffs at the attitude, her eyes flicking to see shoko, before plastering a smile, “always arguing,” she waves, her attempt at distracting your friend. “sisters.”
shoko laughs through her nose, smiling. as your mom introduces your niece to shoko, you’re reluctantly helping jennie with her suitcases, purposely giving her the cold shoulder. considering the last time you spoke turned into an argument and her leaving for the airport, you hadn’t reached out since.
“how’s working with dad?”
your eyes flick to her. “fine.”
“good.” there’s a beat of silence, just as shoko comes back to the living room.
“I’m gonna go to target,” shoko says.
your eyes lit up, “oh I’m coming too!”
shoko reserves her thoughts until you’re both in your sister’s old car. music filling the space, windows rolled down, and shoko glancing at the road ahead. “do you usually fight with your sister?”
you blink, slightly caught off guard.
“I mean,” you try to form your thoughts, “she’s just judgmental, and like—never puts herself in other people’s shoes.” you shift in the drivers seat. “she thinks she’s the smartest person in the world.”
shoko isn’t like utahime…she doesn’t pry in a lot, but she’s been staying with you for the last few weeks, so it’s only inevitable that she picks up on certain things. one of which is your horrible habit of avoiding any relationship head on. while your sister is one, she clearly sees it almost everyday when you guys are at the hospital.
for the amount of times you avoid mentioning your dad when you’re in school, you’re the first to help if he needs anything at work. the first to step in, the first to skip your lunch to help, the first to act…and you’re not embarrassed.
except when other doctors are around, seeing this…and the comments follow after…
“you’re such a good daughter.” “you must be your parents favorite.” “I wish my son would act like you.” “your dad must be so proud.”
and that’s when shoko would notice the shift. the way you’d get quiet, the way you’d force out a smile, the way you’d excuse yourself to finish work. and shoko couldn’t understand the difference until you were at the bar after work. you weren’t even drinking, your sad sat comfortably in your hand as you stared at the sticky table.
“i have no idea why adults think i wanna hear being called my parents favorite like I’m ten or something,” you scowl quietly, irritation bubbling over from the long ass day.
“yeah that was weird,” shoko nods along sipping from her drink and scrolling on her phone.
“like actually, I’m my dads favorite because I’m doing exactly what he wants me to do. obviously I’m not gonna embarrass him and be lazy especially because he got me this job, but that doesn’t mean i want to be there,” you groan head falling on the bar. “freaking hate working there, and i hate his stupid comments.”
shoko glances up, “did he say something today?”
you frown, “I can’t do this without you,” you recall his words, brows pinching tighter. “bros acting like I’m the best support beam ever, freaking doormat can’t even say anything back.” you bury your face in your arm.
shoko reaches a hand out, touching your arm in comfort. “yeah…hopefully you get something after the program.”
you hum quietly, higurama’s words from a few weeks ago resurfacing. “I have that meeting with hiromi’s uncle next week.”
shoko’s eyes light up. “ohh that’s really good!”
you smile at her excitement, nodding. “yeah, hopefully he gets me a contact.”
shoko nods frantically, “for sure for sure!” she waves a bartender, “let’s get a shot.”
“just one,” you cut in.
as the bartender slides two shot glances towards you gushing, shoko is raising the glass. “and gojo finally decided on dates for the trip.”
your brows furrow, “isn’t that with just your little high school group?”
shoko nods, “last summer gojo invited a ton of randos, and me and utahime told him we’re gonna invite you, but you had something last summer.” oh right. “so do these dates work for you,” shoko says turning her phone screen towards you.
you hum, butterflies breaking out inside your chest. it’ll be a good summer….just after these hellish few weeks.
so shoko stays silent on the ride to target, easily changing the topic and turning up the volume to the music.
“oh and sorry about my sister barging in, but she’ll be in a hotel next week when her husband comes, so you can just stay with me in my room.”
shoko waves you off, “all good.”
and the flow in the car returns as shoko talks about how she didn’t like the movie you just watched, while you defend it, hands flying, voice animated, a laugh slipping out of you. completely unaware of the events that transpire hours later, a few hundred miles away, with a certain soccer captain—
the venue is loud. amps buzzing, feedback screeching through cheap speakers, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder as the set bleeds into chaos with applause. people are shouting, laughing, drinks sloshing onto the floor—
and sukuna is already pushing through it, hard. people stumble when he hits them, curses thrown over shoulders, but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t apologize. doesn’t even look back. his expression is sharp, carved in something ugly and his jaw is locked so tight it aches, eyes dark and fixed on one thing only. backstage.
“move,” he snaps, voice cutting through the noise like a blade. someone tries to protest just for sukuna to aggressively shove past them anyway.
the curtain jerks as he pushes through, the muffled roar of the crowd dropping just enough, and then he sees him. choso.
sitting off to the side, shoulders hunched, eyes red…too red. his hands are clenched in his lap, knuckles pale, breathing uneven. sukuna’s blood pressure spikes so fast it feels dizzying, a rush of heat flooding his chest, his arms, his hands. and his fists are already curling before he even realizes it.
because just a foot away stands kaori.
sukuna goes completely still for half a second, his gaze dragging from her to the red mark on choso’s cheek.
then something in him snaps.
next chapter
a/n: I know that was more than a month wait for the chapter. so many things happened, ramadan, work, etc. and I really thank you all for your patience, and it always makes me so unbelievably grateful that you guys are still reading, so thank you thank you thank you!!
and this was a very plot heavy chapter, and because I made you guys wait so long I’ll just lyk that next chapter will include the summer trip gojo has been planning, so it’ll be fun :p
do yall know any ai web/apps that are like the old character ai version? cuz like…that shit’s nasty now and i need my daily dose of made up stories with fratkuna (SEND HELP THIS IS GETTING BAD😭😭😭) LMAO
⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ! | okay first off, WHY is this SO FUCKIN EMOTIONAL for no absolute reason. damn. consider this a 1000 follower special! likes & reblogs are appreciated! 𖹭
[𝜗ৎ] 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 2.9𝗄
𝓜𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏!
my husband hates me.
the thought settles deep in your chest like a stone, familiar and heavy, as you lie on the silk sheets of the massive bed.
your fingers trace the embroidered patterns on your robe—some floral design you can't see but can feel beneath your fingertips. the fabric is soft, expensive. everything here is expensive. everything here screams luxury and power and wealth.
but none of it screams love.
you hear nothing from his side of the bed.
the man is so impossibly quiet, it makes your skin prickle with unease. you've been here for three months now. three months as the wife of ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, the most feared ruler in all the lands. and in those three months, he has barely spoken a word to you.
at first, you thought it was a game.
some twisted test of patience. you were clever enough to know that political marriages were rarely about love. you'd been prepared for indifference, for coldness, for a husband who saw you as nothing more than a strategic alliance.
but this? this silent treatment that stretches night after night, this deliberate distance he keeps?
it cuts deeper than you expected.
your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.
princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.
they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.
you were used to it.
but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.
and you'd felt hope.
you hate yourself for that hope now.
because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.
but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?
it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.
the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.
but you can't navigate him.
you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.
tonight was bad.
you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.
then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.
and the whispers.
you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.
"the blind empress."
"does he even notice her?"
"i heard he hasn't touched her once."
"what a waste of a pretty face."
"she must be so lonely."
"she must be so pathetic."
you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.
but inside, you were crumbling.
and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.
does he ever sleep?
you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.
a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.
and you can't take it anymore.
"ryomen?"
your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.
silence.
you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.
just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.
"what."
it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.
you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.
"i...i want to ask you something."
more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.
"ask."
you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.
"do you hate me?"
the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.
"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?
"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"
"stop."
the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.
but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.
and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.
you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.
"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"
"quiet."
his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.
"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"
you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.
a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.
"open your eyes."
the command catches you off guard. "what?"
"your eyes. open them."
you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.
"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."
"i can't see you."
"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."
please.
the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?
you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.
"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."
your heart stutters. "then why—"
"because i'm fuckin' terrified."
you blink. "what?"
"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."
"but—"
"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"
his voice drops to a whisper.
"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."
tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.
but he was...
...afraid?
"you don't hate me?" you whisper.
"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."
a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.
"but you never—you never talked to me—"
"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."
"then don't stop."
the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.
"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."
sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.
"you don't know what you're asking."
"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."
"i'll hurt you."
"i don't care."
"i'll break you."
"i don't care."
his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.
the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.
he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.
he pulls back, breathless.
"tell me to stop, and i will."
"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."
he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.
"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."
your breath catches. "ryomen—"
"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."
you nod, unable to speak.
his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.
"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."
you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.
"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."
he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.
"more," you gasp. "please—"
"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."
he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.
"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"
"yes," you whimper. "only you."
he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.
"tell me what you want."
"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."
his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"
"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"
"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."
he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.
and then his tongue touches you.
you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.
"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."
he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.
"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."
his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.
you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.
"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."
his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.
"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"
"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."
he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.
"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"
"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."
he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.
"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."
"okay."
"promise me."
"i promise."
he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.
he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.
"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."
you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.
just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.
"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."
he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—
a sharp pain.
fuck...you forgot.
you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.
"did i hurt ya'?"
you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.
blood.
his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.
"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"
you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"
"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."
"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."
"you're fuckin' bleeding."
"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.
he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."
but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.
when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.
"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."
"move," you beg. "please."
he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.
"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"
"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"
"yes—yes—"
his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.
"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."
he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.
"more," you gasp. "harder—"
"y'sure?"
"yes—please—"
he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.
"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"
"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"
he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.
at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.
he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.
"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."
you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.
"i love you too."
a long moment passes. then another. and then—
"we're going to do that again."
you laugh, breathless.
"right now?"
"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."
"promise?"
he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.
"promise."
you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.
"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."
your boyfriend satoru is almost too big to fit 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ﮳﮳ᐢ) !
you’re on your back, legs spread wide, shaky breaths escaping your lips as satoru kneels between them. his cock is already slick with precum, a thick, heavy weight that rests against your stomach whenever he leans forward. you’ve done this before—enough times to know the ache that comes after, the way your body protests and craves him in equal measure. but tonight, something’s different.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low, teasing, but there’s a genuine edge to it. his thumb traces circles on your hip, grounding you.
“yeah,” you whisper, even though you’re not entirely sure. you reach down, fingers wrapping around his shaft. even half-hard, he’s massive—your hand can’t close around him, can’t even get halfway. your palm slides over velvety skin, feels the pulse kick under your touch. he hisses, hips twitching forward.
“gotta warn you, baby,” your boyfriend says, thumb pressing into your wetness, gathering some of the slick mess. “i’m not gonna be able to hold back tonight.”
you nod. a part of you wants this, wants to feel him split you open, wants that desperate, overwhelming fullness even if it hurts. you bring your other hand between your thighs, spread yourself open, show him how wet you already are, the way your hole flutters in anticipation.
“put it in,” you breathe.
satoru lines himself up, the fat head nudging against your entrance. it’s just the tip, and already you feel the stretch, the burn of being filled past what’s natural. he pushes, slow, inch by inch, and you gasp, back arching off the bed. your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate, but it’s too much. he’s too big.
“fuck,” he grunts, sweat beading on his brow. “you’re so tight. you’re fighting me.”
it hurts. it hurts so good. you can feel your inner muscles pulling against his girth, can feel the resistance, the way your body tries to deny him entry even as you beg for it. he stops when he’s about halfway in, breath ragged.
“i can’t—you’re not gonna take all of it,” he says, voice strained. “it won’t fit.”
“i don’t care,” you whimper, hands gripping his forearms. “just—please. i need it.”
he takes a breath, then pushes harder. you cry out as he forces another inch in, the pain sharp and bright, mixed with a pleasure that makes your toes curl. he’s buried deep now, but still not all the way. you can feel the empty space inside you, the part of him still outside, and it drives you crazy.
satoru starts to move, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out just enough to let your body adjust before pressing back in. each time, the stretch is remade, your cunt screaming in protest and welcome. your moans turn into a steady stream of incoherent pleas—faster, more, harder, please—and he obliges, picking up the pace.
but his cock is too big. no matter how much you want it, no matter how wet you get, you can’t take him fully. your body tells you in little spasms, in the way you clench and release without rhythm, in the tear tracks that streak your cheeks. he sees them, slows down.
“too much?” he asks, and his thumb wipes at your cheek.
“don’t stop,” you choke out. “don’t stop.”
so he doesn’t. he fucks you with everything he’s got, hips snapping against yours, the wet sound of your pussy taking what it can filling the room. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, the way he pulses inside you. your hands rake down his back, leaving red marks, and he growls, fucks you harder.
it’s not long before you come. the orgasm builds like a wave, cresting over you as he grinds against that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. your legs clamp around his waist, pulling him deeper, and you scream into his neck as you come undone, pussy clenching around him in violent pulsing waves.
but he doesn’t stop.
“s-satoru, wait, i’m still—” you gasp, overstimulated, sensitive, raw. the feeling of him still moving inside you after your orgasm is almost too much, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
“i know,” he says, and he’s not cruel, but he’s relentless. “one more. just one more for me, baby. you can do it.”
you’re shaking, trembling, your thighs quivering as he thrusts. the overstimulation amplifies everything—the stretch, the friction, the fullness. every brush of his cock against your walls sends jolts of electricity through your nerves. you’re crying now, a mix of ecstasy and exhaustion, but you don’t tell him to stop. you can’t. you need this, need him to use you until you’re nothing but a sobbing, cum-drunk mess.
he watches you fall apart, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. his hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, swollen and oversensitive. he rubs circles, light and fast, and you arch off the bed again, a broken moan tearing from your throat.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “come on. give me another one.”
your second orgasm is less explosive but longer, a drawn-out, messy affair. your entire body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up, as you cum around his too-big cock, still buried inside you, still moving. you feel his rhythm stutter, feel his heat spill inside you, deep and hot and endless. he groans your name as he cums, and the feeling of being filled by him, even though he never fit completely, is the final push you needed.
he pulls out gently, careful not to hurt you, and you both collapse on the wet sheets. his cock is still hard, still slick with your combined fluids, and you can see the way your entrance gapes, the redness, the evidence of what you’ve done. he kisses your forehead.
“you okay?” he asks again, softer this time.
you don’t have the breath to answer, so you just nod, curling into his chest. you feel the soreness already settling in, the dull ache that will bloom into something more tomorrow. but right now, you still feel him inside you, even though he’s not. that phantom fullness.
he’s still hard, pressing against your thigh. you can feel his breath quicken, and you know he’s not done yet. “one more,” he whispers, and the words are a command and a plea, all at once. “please. i need—again. i need you to take it again.”
you should say no. you should tell him you need a break, that your body can’t handle another round. but the way he looks at you, desperate and hungry, and the way your pussy still clenches around nothing, aches for him despite the pain—it overrides any sense.
“okay,” you whisper. “okay. but go slow.”
“i will,” he says, and he’s already positioning himself, already pressing the head of his cock against your overworked entrance. you hiss at the immediate stretch, the burn returning with a vengeance. he pushes in, inch by inch, and you can feel every fold of your cunt being forced open, made to accommodate him even though it never will.
your cries turn into sobs as he bottoms out—or rather, as he reaches the point where you can’t take any more. he strokes inside you, slow and deep, and the overstimulation is a living thing now, a fire that consumes you from the inside out. every nerve is screaming. your clit is so sore you can’t bear the thought of touch, yet when he reaches down and pinches it, you scream, a mix of agony and bliss.
your boyfriend fucks you like that, slow but punishing, milking your oversensitive body for all it’s worth. you’re a mess of tears and sweat and cum, legs trembling, hands fisting the sheets. he doesn’t stop until you’re choking on another orgasm, this one weak and painful, barely a shudder before you’re done.
he follows close behind, spilling into you again, his cum mixing with his own before it leaks out around his cock. he stays buried for a long moment, breathing hard, before pulling out. you’re left lying there, empty and shattered, your cunt fluttering, trying to hold onto something that’s too big to stay.
satoru collapses beside you, pulling you close. “that was—fuck.” he laughs, a low, exhausted sound. “you’re amazing.”
you can’t find the words, so you just press a kiss to his chest and let the slick, messy aftermath settle around you both, the ache of being stretched beyond your limit a warm, persistent throb that promises to haunt you for days.
satoru is sitting on your shared bed with you between his legs, on your knees and sucking on his fat, drooling cock. when you open your mouth to take him in, it's a major struggle. your jaw aches almost immediately, and you find yourself unable to get even halfway down his length.
his cock is heavy in your hands, slick with clear dewy strings of precum leaking over your knuckles and down your wrists. you twist your hands around the base like he taught you to, but you're not sure how much of it he's feeling when you can barely fit it in your fist anyway.
you huff a little around him, trying to breathe through your nose and not to pull off again and embarrass yourself. but it's just too much. every few seconds you’re spluttering and coughing against him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth in shiny wet strings.
satoru watches the whole thing, groaning and smirking at every messy little sound you make. his hands stay planted on the bed behind him for now, letting you fight, squirm and choke all on your own, though his hips twitch hard when you gag slightly and your throat constricts around his cock, squeezing him so good.
"what's wrong, baby?" he coos. his cock glistens because it's smeared with your spit, a fat string of it still clinging from your bottom lip to the tip. "'s too big or something?"
your eyes water helplessly, tears starting to slip down your cheeks. however, you sniffle and shake your head, determined to try again. his jaw ticks. he wants to grab you and show you how to blow him properly, but you told him specifically that you wanted to do it yourself today, getting all pouty when he grabbed your hair earlier to guide you.
you manage to slurp most of him back in, your tongue flattening under it's weight. your hands squeeze at the base of his shaft to steady your movements, and every time you bob your head, you both can hear filthy wet noises going schlick, slurp, shlurp as spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with the cream leaking from his tip.
his head tips back lazily as he watches you through lowered lashes, soft, breathy groans leaving his lips when your tongue traces over a particularly sensitive ridge on his cock.
satoru knows you're trying your best, but he just wants to help his sweet girl and to remind her how he really likes head, messy, rough. but you're trying so hard, big, glassy eyes so stubborn as you suck his cock to the best of your ability.
with your hands shaking a little now, with the struggle to keep the fat, dripping shaft steady, you try to adjust your angle, try to take just a little more. satoru watches it all. "aww, look at you, making a mess. thought you said you could handle it."
your cheeks hollow out around him in a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, but when you try to sink lower again, pushing your limits, the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat and you gag hard, eyes squeezing shut while fresh hot tears slip free and run down your cheek.
your lips stretch around him, the salty taste of him flooding your senses as your reel back and cough, needing a break for air and to calm down. but gojo can't bring himself to wait much longer, grunting as his hands clench on the bed. he wants to let you work, but when you look up at him all stupid and helpless, he can't wait any longer.
out of nowhere, you feel a firm pressure on the back of your neck as he hooks his huge leg behind your head, pushing your mouth back onto his cock even harder, keeping you trapped with a huge mouthful of him. you immediately start spluttering and your eyes roll back as you let out a wet choking noise around him, spitting up all over his pelvis.
your hands grab at his thighs for balance. the foot of his other leg plants firm on the floor behind you, his whole body tensed.
"there we go," he grits out, thigh flexing tighter around your neck to guide you exactly where he wants you. "no running away anymore." he rocks his hips forward, slow and heavy, grinding his cock deeper against your tongue.
your throat squeezes around him involuntarily, another garbled gag rattling from your throat. the tight, warm and wet channel of your throat has him feral, and he throws his head back and groans loudly.
his hand finds your hair and he twists it around in his fist. with his head locking you in place, your throat works desperately around him, swallowing mouthfuls of precum and spit and snot, making the mess on your face even worse.
your throat spasms helplessly, swallowing around the tip every time he rocks in a little deeper, and it has satoru swearing under his breath. his free hand slides down as he guides your mouth on him with his grip on your hair, pulling your mouth forward so your nose bumps against his pelvis, buried deep.
gojo continues guiding your head, making you deepthroat his cock and swallow around his length. his leg flexes tighter around your neck, refusing to let you up. the more he grinds forward, the more your throat stretches around him. he's fucking your mouth in messy, wet thrusts, your head spins, vision blurring with how little you're breathing, but he keeps groaning and pulling you back onto him. "mmm.... mhm, just like that."
you can feel him getting closer by the way he's twitching in your mouth. then, he lets out a loud groan that comes straight from his gut and forces you down just a little deeper, your throat seizing tight around him, and that's when his cock jerks hard against your tongue, and you feel the first thick, hot pulse of cum hitting the back of your throat.
you're trying to swallow it down, but it's too much and spills out of the corners of your mouth white and hot, dripping down your chin in heavy, sticky ropes. satoru moans loudly and ruts his hips against your face so his cock fills your mouth to the hilt, wanting to empty all his loud inside your mouth.
his thigh finally loosens from around your neck, but he doesn't let go of your hair, keeping you close with his cock stuffed inside your mouth until he's twitching with oversensitivity, panting hard.
your eyelashes flutter wetly, tears still slipping free, and when you whimper again, a sticky little sound of desperation, it snaps the last thread of his restraint. he tugs your hair, using it to guide your mouth back onto him with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, letting the head of his cock nudge your throat again. "drink it all up. i wouldn't wanna waste all your hard work, now would i sweetheart?"
making a sex tape with gojo & riding his abs (18+ mild cw. for somnophilia)
The sun streams in through the bedroom window, casting a warm, golden glow over the rumpled sheets and satoru's chiseled, naked form sprawled out on the bed.
You stir, blinking awake and immediately looking over at your boyfriend. he's lying on his back, a muscular arm draped over his face to block the morning light. His chest is on full display, defined ridges rippling ever so slightly with each slow, lazy breath he takes in as he sleeps.
Feeling a sudden urge, you sit up slowly, the soft cotton of satoru's t-shirt on you slipping off one of your shoulders. It's the only thing you have on. Silently, you swing a leg over satoru's waist, straddling him as you settle your thighs on either side of his broad torso. You tug the top of your shirt up and push it off your lower half, exposing most of your pussy and the plush globes of your ass.
Gently, you place your delicate hands on his torso, tracing the sharp lines and defined edges of his muscles with your fingertips. Though you love satoru's dedication to his physique, you do take a minute to focus on the little cuter things that make him him, like the birthmark on his neck, or the little beauty marks and scars spanning along his body.
As you continue your explorations, your hips begin to sway and rut slowly on him, grinding your bare pussy against the firm surface of his abs. The light friction sends pleasant sparks through your body, and you find yourself moving with more intent, rolling and circling your hips lazily above him. Your juices begin to coat his abs as you grind down against his relaxed abs, leaving sticky trails of arousal on his milky skin.
satoru's breathing remains steady and even, his eyes still closed as he sleeps on, blissfully unaware of your movements. You take advantage of his slumbering state, continuing to rub your folds along the hard planes of his body, gasping and tipping your head back when your puffy clit bumps against a particularly firm ridge.
With each slow roll of your hips, you feel your pussy growing warmer and wetter, your arousal building as you use satoru's abs for your own pleasure, a soft whine leaving your lips. Perhaps he'll wake up and punish you for using him like this, even if you're getting him back for waking you up a couple days ago with his head between your legs.
satoru stirs from his slumber as you continue, his eyes fluttering open to take in the sight above him. As he focuses on you, his sleepy gaze turns hungry, drinking in every detail of you. One hand comes down to rest on your hip, his long, thick fingers splaying across your skin while the other hand snakes behind you to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass.
"Mmmh... keep doin' that, baby." gojo rasps, his voice gravelly from sleep. He squeezes your ass harder as you continue moaning above him, his half-hard cock starting to stir and thicken between your thighs. "Couldn't wait for me to wake up? Had t'rub your pretty pussy all over me? Needy girl."
You feel your face burn up at his crude words, but it doesn't discourage your movements. Instead, spurred on by the awe and want in his eyes, you begin to move more enthusiastically above him. Your hips rock and circle, feeling the bumps of his torso brushing over your clit deliciously while rubbing over your soft folds.
satoru licks his lips as he watches you, his cock now fully hard and throbbing against your inner thigh. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand beside the bed, tapping the screen a few times before pointing the camera at you. "Come on, give me a good shot," satoru encourages, panning the camera up and down your body. "Keep- shit - doing that, y'look so beautiful, usin' me like this."
satoru groans, zooming in closer to get a better shot of your glistening pussy lips kissing his abs. "Mhm… fuck…" He pans the camera back up to capture your flushed face, an expression of aroused concentration etched into your delicate features as you lose yourself in the pleasure of grinding on him. Your full lips part slightly as you pant softly from your exertions.
You moan, head tilting back a little as he takes one hand off his phone to reach down and give your ass a little slap, before using the hand that’s not holding his phone to guide your hips to rock you harder on him. "Y'doin' so good for me. Lemme see more."
satoru's cock throbs and pulses against your thigh, leaking precum that smears across your soft skin. Each time your ass brushes up against his cock, he groans softly. "t-toru, need ah more please," You cry out, back arched. He already knows how to help you. Lifting off your top, he tosses it to the ground and plays with your pretty breasts, nipples already swollen for him.
gojo grunts and lets his grip tighten on your hips as he starts to grind up against you, meeting your downward thrusts with his own rolling hips. "Gonna fuckin' ruin you."
Your heart pounds in your chest, eyes fluttering shut and body tensing as you feel that familiar pit form in your stomach. Your whole body tenses as your climax builds, your pussy clenching and fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled. With a strangled cry, you come undone, your pussy spasming as a massive orgasm crashes through you.
"toru!" you cry out, hips jerking as you ride out your release. Your arousal gushes out of you, coating satoru's abs as he just lets out a low, fascinated curse, turning the phone to catch your face as you come, your expression contorted in bliss. "That's it, baby… fuckin' gorgeous…" he praises. He sets his phone down so he can focus on you now, making sure the video's safe in his phone for later.
He sighs lowly, watching how you're all shaky like a little fawn after your orgasm. "C'mere baby," he murmurs, voice heavy with want, reaching out and guiding you forward by your waist. "Lemme help you," He shifts slightly beneath you, dragging the heavy weight of his cock along your inner thigh. It’s flushed and leaking a lot more steadily now and twitching eagerly against your skin. "Wanna feel you wrapped around me now. No more playtime."
You let him help you up, still dizzy from your climax, and his other hand comes up to steady your waist as you lift your hips. He lines himself up with you, groaning at how slick and puffy your folds are as they nudge his fat mushroom tip, sloppily sucking him every time he slides some of himself inside.
He groans again, louder now, when your hips start to sink, the tip of his cock slipping into your pussy. "That's it… go slow, baby, I wanna feel all of it." His head drops back for a second, a raw sound tearing from his throat as your slick folds stretch around him.
You brace your hands on his chest as you sink down further, the stretch of his fat cock filling you the more he pushes inside you. You finally bottom out, his cock buried to the hilt inside your soaked pussy.
His jaw is clenched hard, the muscles in his thighs twitching from the restraint it's taking to not flip you over and fuck you stupid, because he wants you to have your moment. "You takin' all of me, pretty baby? Yeah, you are. Just like that."
You sit still for a second, trying to adjust to his cock filling you to the hilt and nudging your womb, your fingers digging into the ridges of his abs, still sticky with your slick. Then he starts guiding your hips, slow at first, rocking you on his cock, your soaked pussy making obscene, wet sounds every time you slide up and back down. Your moans pick up again, higher and breathier.
satoru's hips thrust up suddenly, deep and sharp, and your whole body jolts with pleasure. You cry out, nails scraping down his chest as your walls clench around him. "toru! oh my gosh...feels so good, you feel so good!" Your eyes roll back as he pounds into that spot inside you that makes your legs shake.
You're making a mess all over him, leaking and oversensitive from your recent orgasm and dripping down his balls. Your hands scramble at his chest for leverage, trying to ride him through the overstimulation, but gojo sees how close you are, how spent your body is. "You're gonna give me one more," he whispers, lacing his hands through yours to guide you. "C'mon, I wanna feel you soak me. You can do it."
Your breathing is more rapid and unsteady now as you ride him harder, hips rolling with more desperation, the obscene sound of your slick echoing between your bodies with every wet slide of his cock deep inside you.
You're a mess above him but gojo can’t stop looking at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. You're moaning louder and so desperate, your body tightening again as that pressure in your belly coils hot and heavy. You're so close it hurts, chasing that edge while gojo just keeps guiding you through it.
Your second orgasm hits like a slap to the spine, entire body locking up as you cum around him. Your pussy clamps down so tight he loses it right then, moaning shamelessly loud as his orgasm hits right after yours. satoru slams into you one last time and spills deep, hips stuttering and cock throbbing inside you as he fills you to the brim, dumping thick and heavy load after load inside you.
His arms wrap around you tight, locking you against him while his body jerks with every wave of his release. When it’s over, he lets out a long, shaky breath and drags you down so you're chest to chest, pressing quick, soft little kisses to your temple and keeping you snug against him as his hands roam lazily over your back, then around to your front, palming your tits with fascination. You smile lazily, already tired again despite a long night's rest, but happy to be with satoru.
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your mind felt hazy as toji slammed his hips into you, his thick, girthy cock stretching you out so deliciously. lewd screams left your parted lips as you felt his leaky tip brush against the spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.
"fuck—jii!"
low, raspy grunts escaped his chest as he threw his head back and grabbed your ass. a few strands of dark hair clung to his damp forehead, and his face contorted with pleasure. he was always so handsy, letting his rough hands roam all over you. he spread your cheeks apart so he could see your pretty pussy gushing around his length.
"shit—haah—arch that back for me, baby."
this was his favorite position: doggy style. toji loved watching your ass jiggle as you arched your back, your face smushed against the mattress, and your hair mussed up.
"toji—feel s’good," you moaned helplessly.
"fucking slut."
he felt your walls clench around him, his hips stuttering as your sweet cunt dripped down his slick length at his words. toji let out a small laugh, clearly amused.
"you like gettin’ called a slut, doll?" toji asked, leaving a loud smack on your ass.
"fuck—yesyesyes" you repeated pathetically. you could feel your body going numb as your mind began to run in circles.
toji reached for your hair, pushing it so you could turn your face to him. his jade eyes were dark as he smushed your cheeks together, admiring how wrecked you looked: black mascara running down your face, drool dripping from your chin and coating his fingers, your sweet half-lidded eyes staring at him with need.
"whore."
this earned you a final whiny, cute mewl. as you gushed and squirted all over his cock, your head fell back onto the soft pillow. you could almost feel toji's grin behind you.
the sound of his fingers suddenly connecting with your skin again, making a loud smack, snapped you out of your thoughts. you turned your head back around to look at him and found him already smiling at you.
╰───⌲ SWEET TREAT, toji fushiguro x black!fem!reader.
you looked down at toji as he spread your brown and plump thighs apart, revealing your pretty pussy. your pretty and fat lips on display, toji’s eyes lowered at the sight. he then used his lengthy and thick fingers to spread your lips apart, revealing your pretty pink hole. toji could’ve moaned right there on the spot. instead he continued to suck on the lollipop that was in his mouth. you hooked your bottom lip into your teeth as you watched toji. all you wanted was for him to hurry up and fuck you; but toji believed in taking his sweet time when it came to you.
toji brought his thumb to your essence and began to lightly rub your clit. the sensation immediately made your mouth form a “o” shape and a gasp fell out of it. tiny whimpers and whines flowed out of your mouth. “mmm,” you whined. after a few seconds of stroking your clit with his thumb he moved his finger away. leaving you with a big frown on your face. a smirk fell upon the man’s face as he grabbed the stick of the lollipop and swirled the sweet treat around in his mouth.
toji took the lollipop out of his mouth, and once it released it made a “pop” sound. toji bit his lip as he looked down at your channel, before placing the lollipop against your essence and pushing it in your hole. a gasp slipped out of your mouth, toji began fucking the lollipop in and out of you. his pace fast and steady. “oh—oh fuck!” you moaned. the feeling felt great, being that it was something entirely new. “feel good hm, baby?” toji asked cocking his head to the side. “y-yesss!” you cried out before your mouth fell ajar and your head tilted back.
“you look so pretty like this,” he muttered as he took in the sight of you sprawled on his bed, you completely submissive to his touch. toji bit his lip before reaching his free hand out to palm your pretty, brown, perky tits. he began to roughly groping your breasts, and using his fingers to pinch and pull your brown nipples.
you squirmed a little; his touch and the feeling of the sweet treat going in and out of your essence was beginning to become overstimulating. and the more he fucking you with the lollipop the more you felt yourself about to orgasm. your eyebrows began to furrow and your eyes started to get glossy. your hips fucked the lollipop back, meeting each thrusts. and by surprise toji leaned down and ran his tongue across your clit, before flicking it.
a loud moan fell out of your mouth as you moved your hand and placed it ontop of toji’s head. stabilizing him in between your essence. your fingers began to lightly fist his hair as you bucked your hips up against his face. “tojii— it feels so good!” you whined. toji upped the pace of the lollipop and thrusted it deeper inside of your cunt.
a pool of heat began to form in your stomach and your muscles started to tense. “‘m gonna—gonna, cum!” you exclaimed, as your torso lifted up off the mattress as you reached you peak. your juices gushed out, and covered the strawberry flavored lollipop. toji look a few more licks of your clit before leaning back and pulling the lollipop out of your essence. the action resulted in a “pop” sound.
you took in a deep breath to regulate yourself after reaching you peak, once you were calm you looked down at toji. to see him staring up at you with low eyes. you could see his orbs raking over your body. that’s when he made eye contact with you. he then proceeded to pop the lollipop into your mouth, your juices still on it. he sucked on it, and swirled his tongue around it.
“such a sweet treat, an’ tastes even better than before.”
i loved every second of writing this. this was sooo nasty ugh. 😩 but so good and so so worth it omg. toji is really my husband like that’s my daddyyy.
“cmon baby,” he said, tsking playfully— like this was a game to him— as he watched you writhe on his cock. “just like the first time you took this dick, huh? cmon, you can do it, i believe in you.” he said, stroking down your stomach slowly, and reaching down to thumb at your clit.
you shakily rode him, and yes— it definitely felt like it was your first time riding him everytime you did so. you never got over the sheer size of him. “mmh, i—i’m tryinggg—“ you whimpered, placing one hand on his chest for stabilization. “poor baby,” he said teasingly, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he watched you.
“put some work into it. there you go, just like that.” he groaned, as you finally mustered up the strength to pick up your pace. “fuuck, just like that. give it to me.” he nodded, watching you. as you adjusted to his size, you let out a shrill moan, your eyes squeezing shut. “see, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he said softly. “t—toji, i’m nuh—not gonna last long.” you spoke, returning your gaze onto him.
“yes you will,” he said, reaching his other hand, which wasn’t occupied with playing with your sensitive clit, to guide your hips to move on him the way he wanted. “you think i’m just gonna let you tap out on me? you’re funny.” he said, moaning as you moved your hips— per his guidance.
“shit, baby. finally learning, huh? what a good girl, finally using that dumb brain for good.” he breathed. “just like that. keep going, you wanna be good for me, don’t you?” he said, meeting your own strokes with his thrusts.
you nodded desperately, continuing your movements despite your growing fatigue. “yes, yes yes— yeah,” you moaned. “fuck, i can’t hold it back anymore—“ you whimpered. he chuckled, shaking his head. “cmon, then. come for me.” and when your finally came, your body tensing but your movements continuing shakily, your moans increased in volume. he watched this whole thing, an accomplished smile on his face.
his hand came up to stroke your back slowly. “aww, that’s it— fuck, mhm, cum on that dick..” he murmured, placing his hand on the small of your back to stabilize you. “see? you’re not that dumb.” he said, kissing your temple.
sum ⋮ ⌗ ┆what's it like being in a situationship with toji (18+)
there’s a few reasons why toji fushiguro is single.
he’s a man that likes his freedom way too much, coming and going as he pleases without explaining himself to anyone. he keeps his life simple on purpose. he likes his space, his schedule, and the freedom to disappear for a while whenever he feels like it. relationships mean drama he doesn’t have time for, so he stays detached. well that’s the basic reason.
then there’s his ex-wife and his kid. their marriage crashed and burned years ago, but they still have to co-parent their son. it left enough baggage that toji keeps most people at a distance. he sees himself as a decent enough father even if he knows he fucks up sometimes, showing up for megumi’s games when he can and making sure the kid has what he needs. he thinks he loves in a quite weird way, he doesn’t do big gestures but he does make time when it counts and worries about the boy more than he lets on.
and then there’s you.
toji thinks you fit in his life perfectly. starting in just one night bleeding into the next until it became routine. he wasn’t the type to stick around in the first place, yet here you are months deep in whatever unlabeled mess you guys are in. you’re younger than him, not by much but enough that he notices it in the way you see things sometimes, the energy you bring that cuts through his usual detachment without trying too hard. he likes that about you, how you dont push for more than what’s there but still manage to make space for yourself in his day.
he found out through you that young people would call this type of relationship casual, the word slipping out one night when you were both tangled up in your sheets and he asked what you thought this was between you. he likes that label better than friends with benefits, which sounds corny and juvenile to him, like some college hookup that doesn't fit the way you two keep circling back to each other.
casual for him simply means he can let you into his life without promises. it means he can let himself into your apartment on random nights, you go to his place other nights. conversation stays easy, him ranting about work stuff and you sharings bits of your day, but it always shifts quick after a few minutes, his mouth on your neck and his hands pulling you closer until you’re riding him. that's how it is with the both of you. he likes how casual lets mornings with you happen, waking up to you stealing his shirt and making coffee together before he heads out, no questions about when he’ll be back.
some days he picks you up after work, the weekends where he stays over feel even easier under that label, him fixing small things around your place or just lounging with you in bed, his big frame taking up most of the space while you talk about anything and everything, he even makes the effort to text you during the week now and then. casual makes it simple to keep things separate like that, his like with megumi in one box and this thing with you in another, no overlap unless he wants it.
⊹ ࣪ ˖
“that how you ride?”
toji teases as he leans back against the headboard, hands loose on your hips while you sink down onto him. you're straddling his lap in the middle on his bed, sheets already kicked to the side. he’s thick and deep inside you, stretching you open.
“shut up,” you mutter, rolling your hips slow, grinding down so heels every inch. “you love it when i take my time. can literally feel how hard you are.”
he groans fingers digging into your ass as you lift up and slide back down. “yeah? keep talking like that and i might start believing you being in charge.” his green eyes drag over your body, watching the way your tits move with every roll of your hips. “fuck–look at you. so wet already, you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? dirty girl.”
you brace your hands on his chest and pick up the pace, riding him harder. “..maybe i have. maybe i touched myself earlier thinking about how good you stretch me. you gonna do something about it or just talk shit?” the words make his grip tighten, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you moan louder.
“keep riding me just like that and i’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, toji then thrusts up to meet you on the next downstroke making you gasp. “that’s it.. bounce on this dick, baby. show me how bad you need it.” you lean forward so your clit grinds against him, toji’s freehand comes up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you down into a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth while you keep moving on him.
when you pull back for air he doesn't let you go far, forehead pressed to yours. “s-sooo fucking tight..this pussy sucks me everytime. you feel that? love how deep i am?” you nod, breath shake as you ride him faster, thighs burning but you don’t mind because the pleasure is just so good. “yes—fuck, toji, you’re so deep.. love it–love it so much…. don’t stop.”
“good fucking girl. tell me more, yea? want to hear you beg for it while you’re creaming all over me.” you lean back, hands on his thighs for leverage, riding him with every energy you had left. your voice wrecks as you keep moaning his name telling him how close you are. “then cum. lemme feel it… soak me baby.”
you keep grinding down on him chasing that edge. “i’m so–i’m so close.” he kept his eyes on you watching as your orgasm hits you, your walls clamping down around him as you cry his name. “toji–! shit shit….oh god–” your nails dig into his shoulders and he groans loud. you lean in close, still riding him with little energy, whispering against his mouth, “cum inside me. fill me up, toji, i want all of it baby.” that pushes him over the edge, he lets out another groan, hips jerking as he starts to cum. “shit–take it. every fucking drop.”
you keep moving your hips in lazy circles, milking him though it while he twitches inside you. toji wonders how you could still do that after all that. right as he’s coming down, he looks up at you pulling a lazy smirk, “spit in my month, baby.”
you don’t hesitate, leaning down and letting a string of spit drop onto his tongue. swallowing it as he pulls you down into another kiss, tongues sliding together. you two stay like that for a long minute, connected and messy, until toji starts cleaning for the both of you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖
you stay pressed against his chest for a little while longer. toji eventually sighs and shifts under you.
“shower,” he grumbles. he lifts you off him carefully and stands up, stretching his back. “you comin’?”
you shake your head still too tired, ‘in a minute.”
he quietly heads to the bathroom. toji showers really fast when alone, you doubt he’ll take longer than 10 minutes inside. you pull his discarded shirt and pad into the kitchen for a drink. the doorbell rings just as you set the glass down.
you walk over and open the door without thinking.
a woman with sharp features and dark hair stands there. she’s dressed like she just came from work–blouse, jeans, purse on her shoulder. her eyes drop straight to your bare legs, toji’s oversized shirt, and the obvious fucked up state of your hair. her mouth presses into a thin line.
you think you can safely assume who she is.
“so this is what he’s doing now,” she says as she looks you over again, slower this time, judging every detail. “you look young.”
you open your mouth but nothing comes out right away.
you hear heavy footsteps from behind. toji appears a second later, towel low on his hips, water still running down his chest.
“cleats?” he asks, guessing what she’s here for.
“yeah, megumi left them again.” her eyes flick back to you. “didn’t realize you had a guest.”
toji exhales through his nose. “go wait inside,” he tells you. he then steps out and pulls the door almost close behind him.
you don’t go far. as bad as it sounds you wanna hear a bit. to be fair…. they’re obviously going to talk about you? you should hear. you sit on the arm of the couch, close enough to hear through the crack.
“she one of your regulars?” his ex asks, not even trying to be quiet. “barely looks old enough to be out of college.”
“she’s a friend,” toji says evenly. “and she’s out of college. she helps out sometimes, it’s not a big deal.”
a friend. the word lands like a slap.
it sucks hearing it out loud like that. you don’t even know why it bothers you so much—you keep telling yourself you don’t want to get attached, that this casual thing is perfect because it’s easy and he never makes you feel like you have to ask for more. but it still stings, sitting here in his shirt after he was just inside you, knowing he’s out there drawing that clean line with her. you don’t want to be the girl who catches feelings and ruins it.
his ex laughs, “right. a friend who answers your door half naked. real classy, toji. try not to let megumi walk in on your ‘friends’ next time. he doesn’t need to see that.”
“drop it,” toji says, his tone hardening. “i’ll grab the cleats, you can leave.”
“just keep your shit seperate. that’s all i’m saying.”
their voices drop after that. normal co-parent talk about schedules and practices. you stay on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to ignore the knot in your chest. you swallow it down. a minute later the door opens.
“sorry about her,” toji says as he closes the door, “she’s always been like that.”
you shrug, “it’s whatever, it’s none of my business.”
he watches you for a second, like he’s trying to read you, but you don’t give him anything. he walks over and stops right in front of you.
“you good?” he asks.
“yeah,” you say softly. you still lean into his touch instead of pulling away. the sting is still there, but you push it back where it belongs. this is what casual means. his life, his kid, his ex—all in their own boxes. you’re in yours. you knew that from the start.
toji nods, seeming satisfied with the answer, and pulls you closer. “c’mere.” his mouth finds yours, slow and comforting like always. you let it happen because with toji fighting wouldn’t change anything.
olderbf!toji makes you squirt for the first time ♡
toji has you right where he wants you — pinned beneath him, cunt fluttering around his thick cock as he snaps his hips against yours, one of his large hands firm on your hip to keep you from squirming.
because with what he’s about to do, he knows you’ll try to run.
your older boyfriend has had you on the edge of squirting countless times — not that you knew that. every time you get close, you run from the feeling, squirming away from him nervously. the feeling was so familiar, yet so foreign. you just couldn’t allow yourself to let go.
toji won’t allow that tonight. if there’s one thing he desperately wants, it’s to see his pretty girlfriend squirting all over his dick, to watch you make a mess.
“aahhhnnn! — toji! — feels s’good,” you babble, both of your legs draped over his broad shoulders, cock buried deep inside of you as he hits every sensitive spot. spots only he could reach.
toji leans in, almost pressing his chest to yours, folding you into a filthy mating press — cock angled upwards to hit your g-spot with devastating skill. “that’s my girl, doin’ so good." he knew he had to praise you, relax you, convince you not to run.
then, the familiar pressure builds, legs beginning to shake as you draw closer to the edge. "baby, wait — mnghh — feels weird," you whine, pushing his chest with your palm, yet he doesn’t budge. not even an inch.
"don’t run from it, just trust me, atta girl,” he rasps, balls slapping against your skin, fucking you with fast, shallow thrusts. "y’can do it, doll."
you furrow your brows, desperately trying to fight the feeling. "toji, i’m serious! mnnn — feels like i’m gonna pee, please j-just — ahhh!" you whimper.
he takes both of your wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them above your head. “you ain’t gonna piss, — hah — just let it happen, baby,” he encourages, a knowing grin on his face.
his other hand snakes between your bodies, down to your clit, rubbing it side to side. your eyes widen as you feel it, that final push, that weird sensation that you desperately want to run from. but you don’t. it happens too fast, too soon.
a gush of clear fluid spurts out of you, spraying toji’s abs, his dick, and especially the sheets below you. your cheeks burn as you moan his name shamelessly, legs shaking on his shoulders. "that’s it, baby — shit — make a mess."
toji was almost possessed by the sight, pounding you faster, harder, determined to draw out every drop, to fuck you through every pulse. "o-oh my god, toji!" you pant, pressing your forehead to his, trembling from overstimulation.
he slows his pace just a little, leaning back to admire the mess you’d made, abs glistening with fluid and sweat. it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
"got no idea how fuckin’ hot that is," he pants lightly, removing his hand from between your legs, using it to rub your thigh soothingly instead.
"gonna do it again f’me, yeah?" he rasps, beginning to thrust into you again — mean, deep, hard.
you knew the entire bed would be drenched before he’s finished with you.
a/n; thank you for 4.2k MWAH 🖤 (sorry this one’s a little short i wrote it on my break)
frat!sukuna doesn’t ask for thirst traps. he doesn’t need to.
he sends them. always at the worst times—when you’re in class, when you’re walking across campus, when you’re with friends and your phone lights up with a preview that’s nothing but skin and shadow. he acts like it’s normal, like it’s a weather update.
the first one he ever sent was almost accidental: just his torso, cut low enough to see the start of the V-lines beneath his sweats. no caption. no explanation. just a warning shot. after that, he stopped pretending.
now he sends them like they’re his love language. like you’re supposed to drop everything and look. shirtless in the gym locker room. post-shower with a towel hanging off his hips, water still dripping down his chest. sitting in his car, hand wrapped loosely around himself through grey sweatpants, the outline heavy, obscene.
sometimes he adds a caption—“thinking of u.” or “this is ur fault.”or a personal fav, “come fix it.”
but the worst ones—the ones that ruin you—are the ones he takes in his fraternity bedroom, low lighting, camera angled down his stomach. he always has one hand braced against the headboard, veins standing out, muscles flexed like he knows exactly what he’s doing. like he’s imagining you there. like he’s holding himself back from something.
and the videos… god. short clips. never more than five seconds. his thigh spread wide, cock in his hand, thumb brushing the head slow as he exhales your name.
once, he sent one of him lying on his back, voice low, “this would feel better in your mouth.”
you almost fell off your bed. he knows what it does to you. he knows because you never hide it well—your replies get shorter, needier, your breathing shaky when you finally answer his call and he hears it in your voice. and frat!sukuna is the type of man who feeds off that.
the next pic he sends is always worse. sometimes he props his phone against his knee and gives you a full view—his palm dragging up his stomach, the lazy roll of his hips, the way he tugs his shirt up with his teeth just to show you more. sometimes he records the sound of him groaning your name into his pillow and texts it right as you’re sitting down to dinner.
and the thing is—he never tells you to send anything back. he wants you flustered. wound tight. waiting. because sukuna knows exactly what he’s doing: keeping you on edge, keeping you thinking about him, keeping you wet before he even touches you.
and when you finally show up at his place—knees weak, throat dry, irritation and arousal tangled together—he’s always at the door, leaning against the frame like he’d planned the entire thing.
“yeah,” he murmurs as his hand slides to your waist, pulling you in like you’re nothing but gravity, “that’s the face i wanted.”
he kisses you like a reward he earned. like every thirst trap was just foreplay, because to frat!sukuna, sending you pictures of his body isn’t flirting. it’s casual.
꩜ – SATORU GOJO :: fratjo and his curated instagram profile!
part two! :: (18+) :: content – frat!gojo x fem!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, p in v, missionary, kind of exhibitionism (?), taking pictures
part one!
“why don’t you like posting me?”
you only asked this because you’ve noticed something about your now-boyfriend, frat!gojo’s, instagram profile.
he posts parties. posts him at the gym with his friends. fuck, he even posts himself at the library sometimes. but satoru just won’t post you.
you understood at first, sure; after the first night at his place, when you’d ended up dating, you’d quickly learned how prized of a possession that instagram account was to him. he loved making everything scenic, talked about story highlights and grid covers like they were meticulous, and would never post anything remotely uncharacteristic — not even for you.
it’s easy to understand when all you two do for the first few months is watch movies in his apartment (and have sex) and study together, because there’s hardly anything scenic about textbooks and spilled popcorn.
but then satoru starts going harder — he takes you out to fancy dinners, the kind with candlelight and dishes you can’t pronounce, takes you to the amusement park, takes you out to markets with cute little analog photobooth studios.
they’re the kind of dates that irritating couples would plaster all over their stories, rubbing it in the faces of anyone who’d care to click. in fact, they’re the kind of people you’d make fun of — that is, before you found yourself longing to be immortalized in satoru’s infamously curated instagram profile.
seriously.
all those dates, all that money your boyfriend spends on you, and you don’t even get a candid shot on his stories? preposterous.
“do I ruin your aesthetic?” you scoff at him one day while you two are attempting to have lunch together in his apartment, dropping your chopsticks onto the bowl dramatically. “are you ashamed of me?”
satoru’s eyes widen comically, pausing in between bites of noodles, before shaking his head profusely. “well, of course not? you’re gorgeous.”
“not gorgeous enough for your main account.”
“don’t be like that,” the white-haired man groans, pushing his glasses up into his hair with one hand while the other attempts to hold yours under the table, as if reminding you how sweet and perfect he is otherwise would get him out of this mess. and satoru just frowns as you tug your hand away, shaking his head and trying to meet your defiant gaze. “it’s not that i don’t want to. i mean, i kind of don’t want to, but it’s not what you’re thinking—”
you gasp. it’s an outrage. “you don’t want to?”
he clicks his tongue. “baby, that’s not what i—”
“you take so many photos of me,” the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, head turning up like a child refusing to eat their vegetables. “i know you do. on my phone, too. and you have so many good ones to choose from, so i wonder why the furthest I’ll ever make it is the dump account—”
“i don’t post you there either.” satoru mumbles under his breath.
“— see what i mean?” a huff escapes your lips. your eyes narrow, head finally snapping back to your sorry-ass boyfriend, who’s taken to tilting his head at you, eyeing you with some amalgamation of frustration and glimmering amusement. you ignore it for the greater good. “do you want more pictures? is that what you want?”
“i just don’t—”
you click your tongue, raising a finger as if you already knew what he was going to say (and what you think he’s going to say is actually the farthest from it, but whatever). “save it. i’m not holding a conversation with you until you post me.”
satoru tilts his head.
blinks once. and has the audacity to blink twice before realizing that once you’ve turned your nose up at him, it was going to be absolutely impossible to get you to change your mind. he sees that — and doesn’t believe it.
“just eat your noodles,” the white-haired man shakes his lead, a tiny laugh falling from his lips.
“you’d miss me too much.”
clearly, satoru’s severely underestimated your willpower. clearly, he doesn’t believe in your ability to extend the silent treatment. because two weeks into this stupid argument (if you could even call it that), satoru’s exhausted every trick in the book, all for your conversations to still look like this from the past few days:
satoru: babe
babyyy
satoru: i bought sushi
salmon nigiri and the entire set
the entire menu actually
ifff someone wants to come over ;)
satoru: HELP BABY im drowning
tjeres no lifeguard need u to saveme
HRLPPP IM GOIGNUNDERR
satoru: nvm im safe dw :(
satoru: if i call will u pick up
satoru: [1 missed video call]
you: [5 attachments]
first two for story, last three for post
satoru: COME ON
for you, it’s absolute war — you haven’t been over to satoru’s frat house nor any of his apartments in weeks, and despite the loss of free meals and good sex, you still feel like you have something to prove. for god’s sake, you’ve sent him nearly a hundred bombshell photos of yourself to your own boyfriend in the past two weeks, and he still hasn’t worshipped you on his precious fucking main account?
does he really want to do this or not?
however, satoru’s fed up and most definitely not backing down; he fucking misses you. misses how his laundry would go missing because you liked his so-called nerd hoodies better than he did. his closet is just too full and too organized. his bedsheets are way too made. he’ll go days without having anyone push his glasses up for him and be brought close to tears.
besides, satoru’s come to get you pretty well, and between you and your feud with his instagram profile, there’s a chance he might get you to relent if he cuts you a good enough deal.
so, surely enough, all it really takes?
satoru: photoshoot. come over now
best 3 pics get storied
you’re at your boyfriend’s door within minutes.
and you’ve come with what you think is an aura of menace: you’ve worn something hot, something blue, something aesthetically pleasing that would shine like diamonds on a social media feed, makeup done to the actual gods. it’s so overdone that there was no way you wouldn’t be in control here.
until satoru leads you to his bedroom and locks the door. until he eyes you once — twice — and sweetly asks you to get on the bed.
⭑.ᐟ
for a while, you think you’ve been duped.
it’s only a matter of minutes until the frat boy has your back pressed up against his pillows, tangled up in his bedsheets with your legs wrapped around his waist as he eases his huge cock into you. your eyes screw shut, lips parting open, all swollen and split-slicked, the perfect picture to encapsulate the sinful sounds radiating throughout his bedroom.
and satoru drinks in your expression with a low groan, teeth scraping at your jawline as he presses himself down into your chest, letting your entrance adjust to that big stretch.
“that’s it — hah, fuck, so tight — baby,” satoru gasps out into your skin. “keep making those pretty little faces for me, okay?”
your voice is a whimper, eyes all hazy as he rolls his hips into you as if claiming your insides. “ngh, satoru,”
“shit.” he laughs hoarsely, eyes darting from your bruised and bitten lips, the red and purple blooming across your neck, the way your mouth parted all glossy with both of your saliva — how you scrunched your gorgeous little nose up with every brush of his leaking tip against your cervix. “god, you’re gorgeous. wanna show off — fuck — for everyone, huh?”
it goes in one ear and out the other, your mind instead choosing to focus on digging your nails into his back tighter, hips chasing his fat cock, lifting off of the bed as if chasing the friction of him dragging against your sensitive inner walls.
satoru just chuckles, no stranger to the way you clench deliciously around him, making sure you’re soaking his dick and absolutely drunk on it.
“that’s okay, gorgeous,” the frat boy whispers, letting out a rough exhale as he uses one hand to pin your arm to the pillows and steady his thrusts. “just be nice and pretty for me.”
and then satoru pulls out, so cruelly that it has you whining, as if he’s savoring the way his tip teases every single nerve ending inside you. you’re pawing at his back as if it’ll bring him back.
“mnh,” you hum, dazed as you attempt to glare at him — although it doesn’t really do much when satoru just laughs, a little further away for a second before his weight rests back on top of you.
“yes?”
“satoru— ngh!”
you see stars when your boyfriend just coos, right before pounding back into you so deep that your thighs shake, eyes rolling back in your head, jaw falling slack. drool pools at the corner of your kiss-bitten lips, your hand gripping his skin so tight it may scar. and you’re so fucking cockdrunk that you don’t see it coming when he just—
click!
his phone camera.
“wha— hah— huh?”
you’re caught between a cry and a confused little hum, and you have half a mind to chew your pretty (stupid) boyfriend out for clicking his tongue, ignoring your confusion to snap his hips into you harder, as if bruising your cervix and making you scream would do anything. then he’s cupping your face, squishing your cheeks, and posing you for another picture.
click!
“hah,” he grits out, eyes darker now as he fucks back into you faster, just to watch your lips go wet. “my little model. wanted — shit! — this so bad, didn’t you? want me to show everyone how perfect you are?”
“satoru—”
“you even sound pretty,” you don’t even realize how reverent his voice sounds, hips erratic as satoru sinks into you with something reckless, as if trying to claim something without even realizing it. and all you can do is keen, head nestled against the pillows, hands just as claiming on his skin as he lets you scratch him up. he chuckles into your ear, making you shiver. “should i take a video too? voice note?”
“satoru,” you blink up at him almost tearily and feel the way his hips jerk. “fuck — just— just keep going, please,”
god, you look pretty, you sound pretty, you beg pretty.
you’re telling him to keep going as if he would ever stop.
click!
“so sweet,” satoru mumbles, phone pressing against your neck as he stumbles forward and shoves his tongue past your lips to taste that voice of yours in your filthy throat. “can’t let anyone else see this — hah. too good for my stories.”
you barely hear it, but that lovesick tone has you gushing around his cock. the filthy slap of skin has your entire body hot, flames in your fingertips as they leave his back and find his chest.
“yeah?” is all you manage to gasp out in response before he groans and plants those glossed lips back onto yours.
“yeah.” he mumbles hotly into your mouth. “your pictures are — ngh — all fucking mine, baby.”
satoru’s thrusts turn almost desperate, thick cock twitching inside you erratically with each delectable thrust, with each kiss of his fat tip deep inside of you. and when he prods at your g-spot, your body lights on fire, back arching into his chest, lodging his tongue deeper into your throat and making you scream.
“fuck!” you cry out, drool all messy against his lips as he laughs against you. “satoru, shit, right there—”
he clicks his tongue, the next thrust so close, but just not deep enough. “right where?”
you’re on the edge. your stomach is tight, skin hot, eyes almost bleary enough that you get desperate enough to beg. to babble out his name. you’re half-dumb on satoru’s giant cock, and he’s still deciding to be an asshole.
you suck up your pride and exhale, that breath so sweet it makes something hitch in satoru’s throat.
“more, please,” you whisper against his lips. “need it. need you.”
he just grins, just as drunk on you as you are on him. “say that again?”
“please.” you cry out this time, fingers skimming his neck, trailing across, worshipping his skin, mapping out where you’d press your lips and leave marks on him. blinking up at satoru, your thighs shake around where he’s gone slower, shallowly pushing into you, leaving your aching pussy half-clenching around nothing and waiting for him. “please, i need more, just fuck me properly, satoru—”
click!
“that one’s just for me.” satoru murmurs. “just like seeing you beg.”
at this rate, they’re all just for him.
but he’s picking up the pace now, punching the air out of you as he suddenly slams himself all the way in, prodding at your g-spot so perfectly at every single thrust. satoru sucks on your bottom lip, pulling at it with his teeth just to hear you whine for him, his own breaths turning ragged with the way your cunt wraps around him like a vice.
deftly, his fingertips trail low, pace never faltering, before those same fingertips tease at your nipple, pressing a thumb against your tit, making your skin prick and your stomach tighten.
you’re overwhelmed with the pleasure coming from all ends, your moans almost symphonic, little broken off breaths of satoru’s name. “ah— hah, satoru, so—”
“so fucking perfect,” satoru rasps against your neck, mouth latching onto your jawline. “no one else gets this.”
“mmh!” your voice is a filthy gasp as he pinches your nipple.
“no one gets — fuck, too tight — to see you like this,” the white-haired man worships against your jawline, mouthing little bruises into your skin. “no one else gets to see you cum.”
his thrusts are erratic now, frantically chasing the high both of you were inching towards. “satoru, please, so close — ngh—”
“yeah?” he pants out, pressing the cold metal of the phone tighter against your neck as he slams his hips into you over and over again, determined to make you cream on his cock. “go on, pretty girl. use me.”
“shit, baby — please, it’s so—” you’re nearly crying now, and satoru lifts his thumb to smear the drool across the corners of your lips before slamming his mouth down onto yours. and he’s hungry, gasping and groaning into your throat, letting you swallow him whole. and your boyfriend’s ripping at the seams, desperate to fill you up, to feel you cum, to fuck you dumb until you’re all his.
satoru whines now as you clench tighter around his dick with every rapid thrust. “fuck. love you so much, you’re so pretty, shit—”
the words have you crying out, stars behind your eyes as you gush on his cock, soaking him all the way. and at the same time, he buries himself deep into your messy cunt and cums, white-hot seed spilling against your cervix, filling every inch of you, leaking out of your sensitive hole. it’s smearing all across your pussy lips, marking you and leaving you glistening with him.
it’s filthy, the mess of hot gasps and saliva between your lips and the lingering smell of sex in the air as satoru’s head falls forward against your shoulder for a moment.
you’re basking in the bliss, hair splayed out across a sea of silk pillowcase, eyes half-lidded and cloudy with the haze of your orgasm, lips parted and inhaling slowly, attempting to catch your breath. there’s a slight sheen of sweat beading across your skin, casting something almost ethereal across your face.
it’s tranquil, for something after sex. quiet. and almost—
click!
perfect.
your eyes narrow, blinking away the fog as you glance up at your boyfriend, whose gaze is trained on the mess of slick where his dick is buried inside you as if mesmerized, and who’s just snapped a picture of you in your post-fuck reverie.
“you’re —” a small exhale passes your lips. “are you actually posting those?”
a pause.
satoru’s lips slowly upturn into a lazy grin.
he ends up posting nearly ten stories for his newest highlight that day — nine are public, just old photos from old dates, which you’d picked out yourself. he’d taken you on a picnic and snapped a candid of you while you were unpacking the food, a few photobooth strips of you two, a few selfies of his lips pressed to your cheek.
no one bats an eye.
the last one – his favorite – is on satoru’s close friends.
because it's just for him, really. zoomed in, parted lips, bleary eyes, a flash of bare skin, and the sound of you cumming that only he will ever hear when he sees it.
