20s. Kiwi represent lmaoo. I will defend jason grace to the death don't fuckin test me. 18+ only as i reblog whole bunch of shit minors should not read.
We were never supposed to see Clark's wife. The film is about Clark and how he describes what happened that led him to her divorcing him and how he views her. It wouldn't matter if we saw her POV because Clark just wanted to go back to those simplier times when he had control and was able to "understand" her through his distorted lens
And thus we as an audience don't completely understand and so have to just go off of Clark and Mary's conversations (describing a dog to a person who has never seen one before)
they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?
pairings: toxic!Satosugu x ex-roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader
content: MDNI, angst and smut, heavy pining and yearning, satosugu are dicks, oral (m! receiving), rough sex, consensual recording during sex, unprotected piv sex, arguments, men fighting over you, will the men learn their lesson??, PETTY reader, multiple povs, happy ending
art by @winterrbluess + dividers by @i-mmaculatus
It had been 143 days, eighteen hours and approximately twenty-seven minutes since the day Satoru found your key on the counter.
It might as well have been yesterday.
Your note was in his wallet. Folded up and slotted between his credit card and a Polaroid of you he'd taken a lifetime ago, the ink scribble on the paper seeping through his thoughts still. A blot that he suspected had permanently stained him.
He didn't need to pull it out anymore, by day sixteen he already had every curve and line memorized. Slotted neatly in the box in his brain right next to your smile, the shape of your body when it was folded underneath him, the sound of your laugh.
Seven words were all the past four years were worth to you.
Moved out! Sorry for the short notice :)
That was all.
Seven measly words and the memory of you picking your clothes off the floor, the pout on your lips and the purr of your voice, a bitter last goodbye he hadn't seen for what it was.
Walking away from them with a pretty smile on your face and your phone in your hand.
What killed him the most was how casual it was. Like you had just gone to grocery store. Not emptied out your whole fucking room and dropped off the face of the earth.
Did he not mean more?
Was that all years of friendship had dissolved into? Sharing snacks and sneaking kisses? Limbs tangled and longing stares? Just to be nothing now?
Suguru didn't like talking about you. Didn't want to listen to his never-ending concerns and complaints. Didn't want the reminder of what part he played in pushing you away.
But Satoru couldn't stop.
What were you doing? Where were you?
Were you happy now, at least? Without him? Without Suguru?
It didn't matter how badly he wanted to know, how many hours he spent sitting in your barren bedroom and counting the seconds in silence, how hollow his heart felt in you absence. Because none of it would bring you back.
None of his pining would piece him back together.
Or make you belong to him again.
"You're moping," Suguru dryly commented, reading the ingredients off the back of some cereal box.
Satoru huffed, looking around the empty aisle and leaning against the metal shelf.
Grocery shopping sucked.
It used to be fun. He used to wrap his arms around your waist and plant kisses across your collarbone when no one was looking. He used to throw candy after candy into the shopping cart while you scoffed and scolded him, putting half back up and hiding the smile that curled up on your face when he whined and tugged at your clothes.
They didn't need a cart anymore.
Not when they were only shopping for two now.
But now he kept catching himself absentmindedly tossing your favorite foods in, forcing himself to put it back on the shelf and wonder if you were eating enough without them to cook for you.
Maybe your boyfriend made you meals.
Satoru hoped he hadn't stuck around.
Sure, it was selfish, but wasn't that what Satoru was? Had always been?
If he couldn't have you, he certainly couldn't fucking stand the idea that someone else did.
That another man might be sleeping in your bed and tangled in your sheets. That while he was staring at the ceiling wondering what went wrong, you were staring up at someone new, getting split open and stretched out without even giving him a second thought.
"I'm fine," Satoru forced a strained smile, folding his arms across his chest.
Suguru glanced over at him once, but didn't say anything, just dropping the box in the shopping bag.
And that was the problem, wasn't it?
They knew it was wrong and waited for it to fix itself? For you to be fine?
"I'm gonna go look at the protein bars," Satoru murmured, walking away before he could get stuck spinning in the same circles he'd been in for months.
He was supposed to be moving on.
But if he was still thinking about you, surely, he had to be on your brain too. There was no way you'd just forget the fun times, the fucking, how freely you used to giggle at his dumb jokes.
Suguru just didn't understand.
He could say he loved you, and yeah, he did, but Satoru was the one who found you first, had forced fate to tie you together.
It was his idea to introduce you to each other, his idea for you to live together, his idea to share you after Suguru snuck his way into sleeping with you first.
What kind of world was it where you weren't his too?
Sometimes, on those shitty nights where he ended up counting the seconds on the clock, he sorta wished he'd knocked you up when he had the chance.
At least then you couldn't completely cut him out of your life, like he was some sickness you had to cull.
He glanced up at the signs hanging over the aisles, searching for the one he was looking for. It wasn't their usually grocery store. Suguru's suggestion - a silent way of saying he was sick of hiding from your shadow too. But even going somewhere that held no memories of you didn't help the creeping feeling that you should be here.
With them. Him.
Satoru found the aisle, turning the corner just to freeze at the familiar outline and pretty face waiting for him.
Maybe fate hadn't forgotten him after all.
꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱
"The fuck are these so overpriced for?" Sukuna grumbled, dismissively picking through the selection of protein bars while you tried not to smile.
"I dunno," You hm-ed, sneaking peeks at him while you looked through the shelves. He wasn't your boyfriend. But you guessed grocery shopping together post-sex wasn't too bad. "We could probably order some online cheaper."
He spent half the week at your apartment anyway.
You might as well stock up on them.
He hmph-ed, but after the past few months of forming a genuine friendship (and sleeping together), you'd figured out that was his way of agreeing.
"Chocolate? Or vanilla?"
You glanced over your shoulder, holding up equally-overpriced protein shakes in each hand as you offered them out to him.
Sukuna huffed, but he shuffled closer anyway, snagging the heavy shopping basket from off your arm after tossing both bottles in. His scowl only softened when he noticed you watching him.
"No strawberry?" He muttered, scanning the shelf in front of you.
"Nope," You hummed, glancing down the aisle and slipping away to find the next item on your grocery list while he trudged after you.
He never let you stray too far though.
A hand squeezed your wrist right as you turned into the next aisle, nearly making you crash into the chip bags lined up on the end cap before you turned around to see someone who wasn't yours - not anymore.
"Hey gorgeous."
Charming smile. Pretty blue eyes. Wild white hair.
Your former roommate.
You didn't get the chance to breathe before Sukuna was shoving Gojo away. Hard. And he did crash into the next end cap over, a few gift cards falling off their hooks and hitting him in the head while Sukuna stepped between you.
"Try that again," Sukuna didn't have to snarl or shout, just three short words in his husky tone was threat enough.
Your second assessment of Satoru Gojo was more critical. The wrinkles in his shirt and the dark circles under his eyes, the once soft buzz of his undercut grown out.
Recognizing that awful ache in his eyes you'd once seen in your own reflection.
He looked like shit.
"Sukuna," You forced his name out, swallowing hard as you folded your arms across your chest, as if it'd do anything to shield you from how hollow you felt seeing Satoru Gojo again. "Let's just leave."
Wherever Satoru was, Suguru was probably close behind.
"Don't," Gojo sounded panicked, his plea cutting through as Sukuna only stepped back enough to wrap an arm around your waist, still glaring at him. "Can we please talk? Just us? You know, catch up?"
You didn't understand how he couldn't see there never had been an us.
There was only ever a them.
"No thanks," You shook your head, settling into Sukuna's side. His grip was tight on your hip, like you might actually slip free and take Gojo up on his offer.
You ended up telling him the entire convoluted history one night half-wasted on wine coolers while you were supposed to be watching some movie, the tv forgotten and the volume turned down so he could listen to every embarrassing detail. How pathetically in love you were. How long they left you out. How empty you felt after being used so easily.
Sukuna hadn't said much in the moment, but his face made it obvious he loathed them even more than you did.
And even though you both established you weren't really looking for a relationship, he fucked you that night like you were, slow and sure, his mouth on yours and his hands holding your wrists.
"They don't bother you still?" He had murmured in your ear afterwards, your fingers coming through his hair as you laid flat on his chest.
"I blocked them," You shrugged, sighing as he pulled you up so he could press a kiss to your forehead.
For a guy who claimed to be only be concerned about getting his cock wet, he was hellbent on aftercare anyway, making sure you were comfortable and carrying you to the bathroom and checking the temperature for the shower or bath before letting you step in.
But it wasn't like you could compare him to Satoru, or even Suguru.
He was just different.
"Sweetheart," The Satoru in front of you now protested, standing up straight and ignoring the gift cards now scattered by his feet. One had gotten caught on his jacket, but he hadn't realized it.
A petty part of you hoped he would try to leave with it and set off the sensors.
But mostly?
You didn't really feel anything for him anymore. The holes in your heart had been patched up. Caulked and painted over until it was brand new. Or as close as you could get.
Time was funny. The past four months had felt longer than the last four years.
You accepted what happened already. You could blame them and point fingers and cry about it, but you had to face the fact you let them. Love wasn't an excuse.
"I hope you're doing okay," You managed a polite smile, letting Sukuna start to pull you back towards the cash registers.
"I'd be better if you heard me out," Gojo called out, his voice still saccharinely sweet, a pretty purr that stopped working on you long before you'd left him. "Two minutes, please."
If you gave him an two minutes, he'd ask for an hour. And then what? Beg you to come back? Promise he missed you? That all he wanted was to try again?
"Your boyfriend really won't let you talk to me?" He just couldn't help himself, could he? Bitterness bleeding through, a big dramatic pout probably plastered on.
He only cared when you slipped through his fingers.
Gojo would never be your boyfriend.
And sometimes you wondered if he'd ever really been your friend.
You didn't reply, chewing on the inside of your cheek when he reached back out, his fingers grazing your arm, about to grab you before Sukuna caught his wrist.
"Touch her, and I'll break your fucking fingers," Sukuna scoffed. You suspected he would've done it already if this wasn't where you regularly shopped at. A few of the cashiers were glancing nervously at each other, one of them reaching for the phone to call the manager or maybe even the cops before you pulled Sukuna back.
"Come on," You murmured, tugging on his sleeve as he let go of Gojo with a disgusted sigh. "He's not worth it."
Satoru made a sound that was half a scoff, and half, well, you weren't sure what.
Something hurt? Wounded? Betrayed?
You decided it didn't matter.
The show was over. You bowed out. Whatever you were to each other now, it wasn't anything more than background extras.
Sukuna slipped his hand into yours, fingers holding on tight as he followed you to checkout, mumbling something about what a fucking idiot Gojo was under his breath and readjusting the shopping basket hooked over his other arm.
"Goddamn prick," Sukuna muttered, throwing a mean glare over his shoulder as he started taking items out of the basket and setting them on the conveyor belt.
"It's whatever," You replied, trying not to find the fact he was more bothered than you funny. You snagged the basket when it was empty, glancing around to where the others were stacked. "I'm gonna put this back."
"Fine," Sukuna grumbled, digging his wallet out from his jeans. "But I'm paying."
You cracked a smile, watching him out of the corner of your vision while he tried to answer semi-politely to the cashier's small talk while you walked over to add your basket to the stack.
But a flash of something dark caught your attention.
Suguru was watching you.
Maybe had been for the past few minutes. A basket of his own hooked over his elbow, filled with familiar foods and snacks you hadn't tasted since you'd lived with them.
He didn't make any move to walk over. His hair piled on top of his head in a messy bun, bangs swept away from his face so you could see how intently he was observing you. Dark brows knitted together, a phony smile he couldn't pretend reached his eyes.
His hand lifted up to wave, and you hesitantly returned it.
They missed you.
But you hadn't missed them.
꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱
"Seriously," Sukuna huffed. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"
You giggled, getting up on the tip of your toes to put up a box of pancake mix. He grabbed it from your hand, neatly putting it up on the shelf for you while he sighed. His hand settled on your hip though, his chest to your back and broad frame blocking you from slipping away. You looked over your shoulder at him. "Kuna."
"Don't 'Kuna' me," He wryly said, face scrunched up. "I should've beat his ass for just talking to you."
You did laugh now, unable to stop yourself when his jaw clenched, lips tugged down in a serious frown.
"I'm not joking."
"I know," You grinned, shaking your head like you disapproved.
If you were somewhere else, a dingy bar or out on the street, he probably would've hit him. Grabbed him by the collar and given him a black eye or a broken nose.
You might've liked it a few months ago.
But you didn't need him to defend you now.
"You should go blow off some steam," You softly said, twisting so you could brush his hair back, running your fingers through the soft pink strands and craning your neck up to plant a kiss on the hard line of his jaw.
"Yeah," He reluctantly grumbled.
He leaned down to capture your lips against his, your back hitting the door frame as his greedy hands traced over the outline of your waist down to your ass, squeezing like it was some stress toy for him. His kiss was greedy, tongue lapping at your lower lip before hurrying to slip between them, to remind himself you were his to taste. You broke away first to catch your breath, lungs straining for air.
Sukuna groaned, his nose brushing against yours and sharp eyes searing through you.
"You're right."
"Usually am," You hummed back, offering one more peck to his cheek before slipping out of his grasp to finish unloading the groceries you'd managed to buy before you were interrupted.
"I guess I'll go the gym," He relented, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, you could ask Jin to go with you," You suggested before he could try to ask you.
All you wanted to do was nap. Catch an hour or two of sleep while you had a free afternoon since a certain someone would probably be cutting into how much you'd be getting tonight.
He helped you unload the rest, putting up the stuff that went on the higher shelves while you stocked the fridge. But when he went to pull out his phone, you snuck out to your bedroom, peeling off your shirt and jeans to change into something more comfortable, a thin tank-top and pajama pants. You tossed your phone on the nightstand before crawling in bed and pulling the blankets over you.
Sukuna popped in right as your eyes started to shut, squatting next to the bed to flick your forehead. You swatted at his hand before rolling over, hiding your head under a pillow.
"I'm heading out," He sighed, and you felt something in your hair, a small pull for your attention, or more likely, him fighting the temptation to tug on it.
"Okay." Your voice was muffled by the pillow, but you didn't bother peeking out.
"I'll come over after," He added, like he didn't really want to leave.
"You don't have to," You shrugged under the covers. Maybe you were friends with benefits, but it was on your terms this time. You enjoyed his company, but you didn't expect anything from him. If he wanted to go out afterwards and fuck another girl, it was fine by you. If you didn't see him again for weeks, oh well.
Being alone wasn't bad at all.
Sukuna huffed, his steps shuffling in place.
"I want to," He begrudgingly admitted.
"You can take my key then, I guess," You yawned, readjusting the blanket as you got more comfortable in bed. "Not going anywhere anyway. Just lock the door behind you."
Sukuna tch-ed, and you were glad the pillow hid how hard you rolled your eyes.
He'd been hinting at wanting a key to your place for the last few weeks. Well, hinting was an understatement.
The reality was he told you point-blank it'd be easier if he could just come and go as he pleases instead of texting and calling and feeling like he had to make an appointment to see you when he was over all the damn time anyway.
But he wasn't your boyfriend.
Shouldn't he have to make an appointment?
That's what this was? Or well, you wanted to think that's what this was.
Without a title, without something concrete and certain - which you weren't even sure you could handle - you didn't want to hand him a key into your heart home.
"Where's it at?" He grumbled, not pushing the issue though.
"On the counter," You hummed, trying not to yawn again, something about his warmth, his presence so close was lulling you closer to sleep, eyes getting heavy.
"I'll be back soon," He muttered, and there it was again. Fingers in your hair. But then he kissed your back. A handful of seconds where his lips brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder.
You listened to him leave. Counted his footsteps and felt your heart stutter at the door shutting behind him.
And just maybe?
You might miss him.
꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱
You woke up to the slam of the front door. It didn't startle you, probably because you'd just sort of adapted to the sound of him stomping around. The heavy footsteps and the thump of his gym bag hitting the ground. Making himself at home.
Settling back in and shutting your eyes again, face nuzzling into the pillow while you listened to the shower start in the spare bathroom down the hall.
It was almost cute, supposing he probably remembered you were sleeping and was trying to be quiet after he already woke you up.
You'd actually almost fallen back asleep before he walked in. It wasn't that he said something. But it was the silence that made you sit up, the fact he hadn't even grunted or offered some raspy hey.
Sukuna was just standing there, glaring at something on his phone, one of your towels slung low around his hips. Muscles defined and still damp, beads of water dripping down his sculpted chest to his happy trail peeking out. You had to drag your eyes up to his face, forcing yourself to focus despite the dreamy haze the world seemed to still have.
You were accustomed to attitude.
This was just different.
His eyes were too dark, his frown too tight, shoulders sagging with stress. It took him a few seconds to really look at you, and even then, his stare felt strange. Like you were some problem to solve.
"Wha' happened?" You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
His head dropped down, combing through his still-damp strands of hair. "He was there."
"Oh," You breathed.
"Yeah," He grunted, all gravelly and rough.
His attempt to seek solace from Satoru had backfired. Your problems following him wherever he went.
"Well," You slowly spoke, and he met your eyes again. "You're the one here."
He didn't even smirk.
No smugness in any of the lines of edges of his face. Your stomach flipped, unsure what you could even say. Yeah, you had terrible taste? Yeah, Satoru was an idiot?
Sorry for sleeping with someone so stupid?
"You know what he said?" Sukuna slowly drawled, his scowl etched so deeply into his skin you wondered if it'd ever fade.
You didn't say anything, blinking at him with your lips still parted, waiting for everything to somehow get worse.
"To have fun fucking you while I could," Sukuna scoffed, disgusted at just repeating it. "That you'd be back in his bed once you got tired of this."
Like you were just having a tantrum.
"What?"
You had tolerated a lot from Satoru. Missed meetings and cold meals and more mistakes and broken promises than you could count. But to beg you to speak to him and turn around to what? Fucking slut-shame you? Treat you like a toddler acting out for his attention?
"I almost hit him," Sukuna begrudgingly admitted, frowning at the memory. "But they kicked me out first."
"What?" You repeated, still too stunned to form a full thought.
"Guess I'll have to find a new gym," He muttered, unclenching his jaw as he finally stepped closer to you, some of the tension starting to melt.
So what? Gojo had managed to get your not-boyfriend banned from his gym and cut your grocery shopping short all in one day.
What was left for him to fuck up?
"He's full of fucking shit," You grumbled, mulling over his words and wishing they didn't drag such a visceral reaction out of you. Hot, angry, coals stirring in your gut, searing through you and demanding you do something.
Being the bigger person didn't work when the person who pissed you off was a prick.
You wanted to hurt him, carve out a piece of his heart and crush it the way he'd do casually done to you, for him to be wounded and withering and for once in his fucking life, feel an ounce of regret.
And maybe it made you an even bigger idiot than Gojo, but you were grabbing your phone off the nightstand, unlocking it and pulling up the list of blocked numbers until you landed on a familiar one.
"What are you doing?" Sukuna deadpanned, watching you closely as your brows cinched together.
"Unblocking Gojo," You casually said, the seeds of the idea already planted.
"Why the fuck would you do that?"
You'd never actually heard him so upset. His molars grinding hard, reaching out to grab the phone from you. You held it behind your back, slyly smiling as he tried to snag it again.
"You wanna show him just how much fun you have fucking me?"
He paused, his jaw slack and his eyes widening for a brief second when it struck him just how serious you were.
"Give it to me," He grumbled, grabbing the phone. But instead of tossing it away or blocking Gojo again, he angled it carefully, reaching over to fix a strand of your hair.
"Whatever you wanna do, you know, just-" You offered, giving him free reign to fuck you and fold you and bend you until he felt better.
Oh, and whenever Gojo got the message.
"I'll take care of you," He huffed.
Sukuna kept his promises.
He flipped the phone around, the option to video call Satoru Gojo already pulled up, one click away. You knew he'd answer.
But you still hesitated, just for a second, before peeling your shirt off first, leaving you in a lacy little bra you'd only kept on for Sukuna to see tonight. Then, shuffling out of your pajama pants to reveal the matching underwear.
"You don't mind?" You asked, giving him an opportunity to back out, but he just scoffed, looking down to hit the button for you. The phone started ringing, and your face flushed, the idea suddenly seeming terrible but your fingers freezing around the phone, unable to move and hit the button.
He answered on the third ring.
"Angel," Satoru chirped, clearly fucking pleased-as-can-be, his smile bright and carefree as his face came into frame, too close to the camera. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, y'know, I was really hoping you'd-"
"Satoru," You hummed his name as sweetly as you could muster, lashes fluttering.
"Y-yeah, baby?"
"Are you with Suguru?" You asked, pitching your voice to sound breathy, tilting your head at the camera and chewing on your lip.
His face flushed. A few wispy strands of white hair were stuck to his forehead, and you recognized the wallpaper of his room behind him.
Fresh out of the shower too.
"Nah, not right now," He finally answered, taking in your appearance. The sleepy, seductive eyes. The sharp edge of your canine biting down on your bottom lip to to remind what it once felt like to kiss it. "Are y-"
"You wanna record this for him?" You casually suggested, slowly pulling down the strap of your bra, making a show of your fingertips grazing against your collarbone. "Or will this be our little secret?"
You knew what he would pick.
But it was cute he tried to act torn.
"Our little secret," He answered, and you were pretty damn sure he was already palming his bulge. A bet you'd be willing to take by the way the lump in his throat bobbed.
And sure, he said that, but there was no fucking way he wasn't screen recording already, thinking it'd be something to save and fuck his fist to again later.
"Oh yeah?" You glanced past the camera up to Sukuna, who was staring down at you like he was imagining all the different positions he was going to put you in after this.
The signature smugness returning as you winked at him.
How would Satoru feel to be the one left out of the secret this time?
You tapped the button to flip the camera around, letting Sukuna take the phone.
"Fuck."
Not great, you guessed.
You got down on your knees, tracing the edges of the towel and tugging it down to reveal Sukuna's cock, a shade of pink just as pretty as his hair, swollen and throbbing in your palm when you delicately wrapped your fingers around it. Slowly stroking upwards, collecting the pre-cum as you stared up at the camera. You sorta wished you could see Satoru's face, but Sukuna's surprisingly fast fingers snapped a screenshot.
To hide your giggle, you leaned in to drag your tongue over the thick vein bulging along the side of his cock, taking your time before wrapping your lips around the very tip of it.
Normally, Sukuna would scoff and scold you, grabbing your hair to guide you or flip you over and give you head instead. But he was indulging your dramatics, even groaning at the ginger way you lapped and licked every inch of him.
"S-sweetheart, you can't be fucking serious," Satoru flipped from needy to nervous, but he didn't hang up.
"Is there a problem?" You innocently asked, pausing from peppering kisses across Sukuna's shaft, before his free fingers found your hair, wrapping it around his knuckles and pushing you forward until your lips were brushing against his leaking tip again, parting them so he could press inside.
Satoru made some strangled sound when you started sucking on the thick cock shoved into your mouth. Watching you choke and gag on it, bumping into the back of your throat while your nails sunk into Sukuna's hips, grabbing onto him for purchase while he fucked your face.
When he didn't reply, you tapped on Sukuna's hip to get him to pull out, his cock still bumping against your lips while you directed your attention up. "You wish it was you?"
"Fuck, yes," Satoru groaned, and you didn't have to see him to know he was getting off on this.
Although, what he really wished for was probably that it was Suguru's cock you were sucking.
"Too fucking bad," Sukuna wryly mocked, using your hair to force himself back in, hips bucking forward to drive his cock deep enough your airway was closing around him.
"Who do you think taught her to do that?" Satoru snapped back, his voice hoarse and raspy, the sound of his fist furiously pumping his cock filling the background.
Sukuna took the bait.
One second his cock was bruising your throat, and the next you were being half-tossed onto your wrinkled blankets, bent over and your panties torn off.
Something wet and heavy hit your bare ass, glancing glossy-eyed over your shoulder as Sukuna's cock rested on your ass while his free hand traced over your spine.
He drew it out, his rough fingertips running over every ridge. You shivered at the touch, wiggling your ass back, but he didn't budge.
"You wanna watch me fuck her till she can't remember your name?" Sukuna casually asked, holding the camera up as his other hand slid back down, delivering a light smack to your ass, just enough to make it jiggle before he pried you apart.
Slotting two fingers in first, stretching you out in one single, rough thrust, down to the knuckle before pulling them back out to put on display.
Giving Gojo a front row seat to how soaked you were, skin damp and slick, spreading your thighs and teasing your entrance with his swollen tip. A mean grip on your hip, holding you in place no matter how much you squirmed around him.
"You asshole-"
"Sorry," Sukuna bluntly cut him off. "This is a private show."
He hung up on him, throwing the phone on the bed, but it barely took him two seconds to sheath himself inside you, the full length of him forcing past the first ring of resistance before you could stutter out his name.
"Shit," You gasped, clawing at the bedsheets as his hips smacked harshly into your skin, driving himself in to the base, having to lift your hips to fully sink himself in.
You tried to breathe, but each time you sucked in air, it seemed like there was nowhere for it to go, too full to do anything but pant when he bottomed out, grinding his tip in to get you to stop moving so much.
"He doesn't get this," Sukuna muttered, pressing your back into a pretty arch for him, your moans muffled into the blanket as he rutted into you. The fingers on your hip were bruising, nails scraping against your skin. He leaned over, most of his weight resting on you so he could angle himself impossibly deeper.
You didn't know what to make of that.
Or him right now.
Usually sex was the sort of drawn-out affair where you'd yank each other's hair or let him tie you up or fuck until you couldn't feel your limbs.
Switching positions just to try them out, to see how many different way he could drive you insane.
But this was undeniably intimate.
The possessive rhythm of him pounding into you, the weight of his chest on your back, the longing kisses he kept pressing into the crook of your collarbone and across your throat, how he would let his cock throb and stall when he was buried so deep the only sound you could make was weak whimpers.
"K-Kuna," You whined, sweat making his skin stick to yours, his teeth sinking into your shoulder blade while he groaned. You gasped at the pain, but then the hand on your hip forced itself around to find your clit, his thumb dancing over it before rolling it between his fingers just to tease you.
"You don't know what you're fucking doing to me," He grimaced, and you wished he'd just tell you instead of taking it out on your sore and swollen bud.
Massaging harsh circles around it while he readjust to slam into his favorite little spot in the back, the one that made you yelp every time he found it, squeezing around him as he rocked his hips against your ass. The pressure and tension pulling tighter with every brutal thrust, each drag of his thumb back over your clit sending stars across your vision.
You were seeing white when you came undone, eyes scrunched shut as you stammered out a second shattered cry of his name, trying to squirm forward to escape the intensity of it, but he dragged you back down to fuck you through your high. Dumb and pliant on his dick, letting him pull you how he wanted for him to shove himself in-and-out again and again.
He barely pulled out in time, fucking his hands until cum splattered across your back, thick drops of it dripping down the curve of your spine.
You opened your mouth, about to suggest him just grabbing the discarded towel to clean you off so you could go for a second round after a water break. But he was already wiping you clean, flipping you over into your back to trace over the scratch marks and broken skin he left on your hips, frowning at the sight.
"We match," You muttered, dazed and dreamy and still trying to catch your breath while you gestured to where you scratched his hips earlier.
Sukuna wasn't so amused.
"He's not going to leave you alone," He finally said.
"Does it matter?" You hummed.
"I hate him," Sukuna grumbled bitterly.
"You hate everyone," You reminded him. Sometimes, you wondered why he even tolerated you.
Or if he was just like them - what you said, what you did, it didn't matter much if you were sleeping in their sheets.
"Not you."
꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱
It was stupid to show up somewhere they used to frequent. To order a drink at a bar you'd gotten wasted at too many times to count, retreating to one of the few places of solitude you'd found.
Every time you'd ever gone with them, you just ended up alone anyway. Drinking in a corner booth by yourself while they talked to other girls and try to make you jealous.
Still, it was better than staying home. You felt like you were suffocating inside the apartment. Sukuna hadn't shown up all week.
He left when things were still weird, looking at you like he saw you in some new light. Part of you wondered if he'd realized he didn't want to deal with your past.
You told yourself it was fine.
That you were okay with that.
But every day that passed with just a few awkward texts exchanged, the harder it was to breathe. Going to bed early just so you wouldn't have to think about him.
Wouldn't have to wish he was there.
And terrifyingly enough, you were just now struggling to face the fact you just wanted him.
Wanted him to come stomping through your door and over your heart, hear his grumble and feel his hands on your side.
You'd been shoving all those feelings down, scared to accept the risk that he might hurt you the same way Satoru and Suguru did.
He was giving you space, you guessed. Waiting for you to call him and tell him to come over. But you couldn't bring yourself to unlock your phone, to tap a few buttons and break the silence first.
You should.
You should suck it up and ask him to show up. See if he wanted to re-enact your first meeting and fuck in the backseat of his car.
Back when you thought you'd never see him again.
The thought of that happening now had started to curdle in your stomach. All sour and screwed up, the same way you used to be.
But you changed.
And he'd never been Satoru or Suguru to start with.
You sucked in a sharp breath, frowning to yourself when you shared your location with him. You couldn't think of a message to send him. But he would know what you wanted.
It was just up to him to take you up on it.
Although, after a handful of minutes passed without a reply, you were starting to get anxious. Readjusting the hem of your tiny dress and fixing the straps while you debated on getting another drink.
Had he seen it?
Was he just done?
So like an idiot, you called him. Just to feel like the biggest fool on the planet when he didn't pick up.
What did you expect?
Him to come running to your rescue? For him to promise to pick you up? Or maybe just a drinking partner since he wasn't your real one?
You couldn't take your eyes off your phone, polishing off the rest of your glass before you even noticed it was near empty.
But it didn't buzz or light up, even as the clock ticked by, getting later and later.
You were about to leave.
Call a cab or order an Uber.
"Hi, pretty." A soft purr. Velvet and honey and so smooth you sorta wanted to slap him for it.
Once again the wrong man.
This time though, you didn't entertain it. Didn't even look at him. Just got out of the booth and slipped past his broad frame, shoving your phone in your purse while you tried to squeeze between the sea of bodies.
You thought you blended in, or at least he'd have half a brain and know you didn't want to speak to him.
But he was right on your heels, following you outside the exit and into the warm air.
"What do you want from me?" You turned, exasperated and exhausted from bearing the brunt of their expectations for so long. Even after you left.
Suguru stared like a cat who caught his prey, looming over you like you were his favorite little mouse to play with. You'd forgotten how it felt - to be shrunk down to size when he was around. The guilt that gnawed at you.
Satoru made it easier.
He was all sweet talk and saccharine smiles and pretty sentences meant to make you melt until you were a puddle in his palm.
With Suguru?
He saw you. Could see through the lies you tried to sell and counter it until he had you cornered. But knowing you didn't mean he cared enough to change for you.
Suguru only wanted to piece you back together into a shape that suited him.
"Just to talk," He answered, and he sounded so sincere, you might've believed him if you were a little stupider.
Then again, you'd been dumb for deceiving yourself into thinking you were worth more than a few fucks and a fun game for them to share and see who could make you crack first.
"I heard that from your friend already," You bitterly muttered.
No matter what he said, or what they did, it was just a simple fucking fact of life. Satoru and Suguru were a pair. Friends, soulmates, whatever label you wanted to tack to it. You would just be a prize for them to share.
There wasn't space for you.
Not in the way you ever wanted.
And that was okay. You were over it. Didn't need any part of them. Didn't want it.
So why the hell did they have to just keep rubbing it in your face? Why couldn't they just go have sex with some girl that looked like you? That was all you'd ever been good for to them anyway.
"My friend?" Suguru echoed, a brow carefully arched up. "You know he misses you. I miss you."
"I don't care," You hissed, shaking your head. They needed to get that through their thick skulls.
"You don't mean that," He protested, not pushy, but subtly trying to convince correct you.
"I really do," You scoffed, stepping away and glancing around the street at all the people passing by, a few staring at the handsome man you were trying to get away from.
"I saw the video," He spoke up, and you threw a glare over your shoulder at him.
"Yeah? You enjoy the show?" You sarcastically asked.
He rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but huff at him.
"I got the point." You sincerely doubted that when he was staring at you like he wanted to take you home and spank you. Like you were a pet he spoiled too much and had to reprimand. "Now come back home."
No waterworks. No begging. No getting on his knees and asking for forgiveness. Not even a fucking apology.
"You don't even care why I left," You spoke carefully, barely able to keep your voice even. It had never been your home. Only ever theirs.
"Of course I care," He murmured, again trying to bridge the distance, reaching out to grab your hand before you smacked it down.
"Don't fucking touch me."
"I'm sorry," Suguru apologized, but you could see the surprise registering in his eyes. It was faint, but uneasiness started to creep into his features, swallowing hard. "I know you're hurt and angry, but we never meant to-"
"I'm not," You interrupted, eyes hardening. "I don't feel anything for either of you anymore."
"Don't say that," Suguru said, and you just shook your head. "This is fixable. We-"
"There isn't a we. And I'm not something you can fix," You mumbled, biting down on the inside of your cheek. "I'm just done, okay?"
"Could I just take you out to dinner?" He hadn't changed. Maybe he'd try to coax you into thinking otherwise - but he still couldn't listen. "One chance?"
"You had a million," You sharply declined. Him and Satoru both. They wouldn't get another one.
His stare hardened, and he tried to step closer, but before he could, someone was moving in-between you, blocking your view.
You heard it though.
The sound of skin hitting skin. The distinct thud of a fist connecting with a face.
It took you a few seconds to process the picture being painted in front of you. The splashes of pink and red. The hint of black. The tan skin.
Then Sukuna brought his fist back and slammed it into Suguru's jaw.
You grabbed at his shirt, trying to pull him back, your lips parted in a protest that just wouldn't come out. Sukuna was seething though, probably seeing the same red that was splattering the concrete.
"You heard her," Sukuna snarled as Suguru spit out a thick glob of blood by his shoes.
"Kuna," You started, but you weren't even sure he heard you.
The door to the bar swung open, and a familiar head of white hair popped out, but Satoru froze before he stepped out, the heavy wood hitting him.
"You must be fucking brainless if you seriously thought she'd ever take your ass back," Sukuna scoffed, shoving Suguru back before turning to you. He grabbed your hand, knuckles still split and bleeding, but you didn't want to let go.
"Yeah?" Suguru dryly asked, wiping the blood away from his mouth, but it was already dripping all over his shirt. Satoru started to walk over, his brows furrowed and frowning at the scene, but you were already tugging Sukuna back.
You were sick of this.
Maybe years from now, when all of this had faded and none of it was fresh, you could stomach their presence. Could look back and find nostalgia in the good moments instead of drowning in the bad.
But not right now.
"Can we go home?" You got up on the top of your toes to whisper in Sukuna's ear, squeezing his hand soft enough you wouldn't hurt his bruised fist.
He nodded, but Satoru was trying to catch up.
"Hey, hey," He called out, once again desperate for attention you didn't want to give him.
"I swear-"
"Just let me," You murmured to Sukuna before he could potentially face a second set of assault charges.
Satoru sighed in relief when you glanced back at him.
"Thank you," He half-groaned, already holding his hand out like he really thought you'd let go of Sukuna's to take his instead. "I know you-"
You weren't really listening.
Studying his face, the softness of it, the pretty eyes you used to adore, the shape his lips made when he said sorry.
What happened to the man you met all those years ago?
The one who laughed and teased you? A sneaky hand under the table and a sloppy kiss to the cheek? Who looked at you like you were the sun instead of some burnt-out star?
Or had this always been him? Selfish and inconsiderate and shallow?
You supposed none of it really mattered.
"I'm not interested," You bluntly said, and Sukuna's palm tightened around yours, fingers pressing into your knuckles.
"What?" Gojo blinked, not comprehending even when you so clearly spelled it out for him.
"Whatever happened, happened, okay? It's over. I don't want to keep doing this," You replied, not caring how short and sharp it sounded.
And part of you felt a little bad, watching his face fall as it finally started to set in that nothing he said or did would change the words coming out of your mouth.
"I don't hate you, but I don't want to see you or talk to you or pretend to be friends when we never were to begin with," You rushed through your words, wincing at the word friends as Sukuna's arm brushed against you, an accidental anchor.
He was here for you.
Not to make you feel like shit or guilt trip you for standing up for yourself.
But you called and he came.
"You're my girl, you've always-" Gojo protested.
"That's bullshit and we both know it," You spoke softly, biting your lip hard enough to split it open, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue.
Suguru was just staring behind him, holding his sore jaw and watching you with those unreadable eyes.
"I meant it before, I hope you're okay," You forced yourself to finish. "Take care of yourself."
"I'm sorry," Gojo was half-begging, panic flaring up in his face at every step back you took.
"Yeah," You shrugged your shoulders slightly, the thin strap to your dress threatening to fall down as you swallowed hard. It felt like the last time. A proper farewell. "Bye, Gojo."
He opened his mouth to speak just to shut it, pausing just for his lips to fly open again for one final bargain. "Can't we just try again? Please?"
He sounded broken. Voice cracking and breathing stuttering.
But you repaired yourself before.
They would just have to do the same.
"Maybe in another life," You half-heartedly said, and then you turned away.
Let Sukuna lead you back to his car. Open the door and buckle you up. Turn the key in the ignition and pull out into the road.
One glance back in the rearview as you left them behind.
"My place or yours?" Sukuna grunted once you hit the first stop light, his intense stare carefully assessing you in the faint red glow. His hair looked darker, his face suddenly seemed so much more mature, knuckles strained and bone-white under the bruises and blood.
"Mine," You quietly answered.
He curtly nodded, reluctantly turning his attention back to the road as the light turned green again.
"I'm not letting it happen," He abruptly interrupted the quiet a minute or two later, and you almost laughed at your firmness of it, the way his face scrunched up and he didn't even know it.
"What?" You asked, lips struggling not to turn up in a smile despite the night you had. The past week of wishing you were with him.
"You being with them," He muttered, like he was a little embarrassed to say it. "Even in another life."
"Yeah?" You giggled. "You're gonna save me?"
"You make it sound so sappy," He grunted, as if he hadn't started it.
"Uh-huh," You covered your mouth to hide your smile.
"Shut up," He grumbled, and maybe it was the stoplight, but his cheeks looked almost pink.
"Let me clean your knuckles when we get home," You softly requested.
"Fine."
But once you got in, he ended up placing you on the cold marble of the counter, hoisting you up by your waist and digging out the first aid kit from underneath the sink.
He didn't wince or cringe while you wiped the blood away, letting your fingers tenderly examine the scrapes, but he held his breath when you gently brought his hand up to your lips to kiss those sturdy fingers.
"Isn't it s'pposed to be the other way around?" He asked, but he didn't pull his hand away either.
"What? Like you're a knight?" You laughed, trying to picture him in the whole getup - the shiny armor and heavy helmet.
"It fits."
You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
"What does that make me?" You tilted your head to the side. "Your princess?"
"If you want to be," He shrugged.
"And if I do?" It slipped out before you could stop it.
And strangely, you found you didn't want to take it back.
Sukuna's lips smashed into yours. Hard and hungry and filled with something you'd both been desperately denying until now.
Moaning into his mouth as his cold, calloused hands slid under your short dress, one reaching around to hold your back and pull you close while the other tugged your breast free from your bra, rolling your nipple between his fingers. Dragging the pad of his thumb over the bud and toying with it until it hardened, his tongue slipping past your lips to trace your teeth.
"My dress," You complained between kisses, trying not to smile and giggle when he huffed and struggled not to tear it when he pulled it off of you, briefly breaking the kiss to lift it over your head.
"There," He murmured, immediately shutting you up with another kiss.
He wasn't rushing though, no, he seemed to try and make each second last. It wasn't a heat of the moment make out or hookup. You weren't just meeting each other's needs. It meant more.
The start of something serious.
Where you would be his and he would be yours and it really was just that simple.
"Hey," You breathed, planting a soft peck on the edge of his lips and cupping his cheeks to stop him from suffocating you with another starving kiss.
His nose brushed against yours, his dark eyes locking onto you. And for the first time in forever, you wanted the intimacy. Wanted to share and soak in the feeling of falling in love.
"Hey," He murmured back, rough and low, sucking in an uneven breath. His hands were harsh, heavy in each touch, but he tried to be soft. Tried to be tender.
You were worth the effort to him.
The risk of putting your faith, your future, into him didn't seem like anything to fear anymore.
"You still want that key?"
꒰ა ⠀ ໒꒱
Suguru stuck to his habits.
Tea instead of coffee. Keeping to a schedule - even when Satoru tried to bend it. Refusing to break even when he, they were fractured.
Filling in the empty spaces with meaningless drivel, anything to occupy his heart and mind enough to not thing about what or who was missing.
And it worked. Most of the time.
But some days?
He still thought about you.
In the park. Watching tv. Washing dishes. Wondering what could've been - and what should've been.
Hearing footsteps in another room and picturing you padding around barefoot, or Satoru chasing you down the hall, protectively wrapping an arm around you when you tried to hide behind him.
He saw you in the shirts you used to steal from him. Felt you in the empty bed. Heard you in your old favorite songs.
Years had passed and yet, you still haunted him. Hung over his head ready to rain whenever he forgot his umbrella.
Suguru supposed he was just a man made up by old mistakes. If moving on meant he'd never get those glimpses of your ghost, he didn't care for it.
He readjusted the shopping basket over his arm. Fingers tracing over a bag of your favorite chips, junk he used to tease you for liking, but he was tempted to buy them anyway, just for old times sake - give it a try himself.
Someone else grabbed it first.
"Oh, sorry." His stomach dropped. "Didn't see you - oh."
Yeah, oh.
He had to force himself to turn.
Body switching into manual, his head slowly swiveling as he swallowed hard. Shifting focus to face the phantom from his thoughts.
"Hi, Geto," You acknowledged him with a pretty smile, one that was genuine, painfully real, like he was an old friend.
He expected sharp words, a pointed glare, to repeat the same conversation he'd come to regret. But you looked at him so softly.
"Hey," He breathlessly replied, unable to drag his dark eyes away from your face. How could he when he had no idea if he'd ever see it again? "Been a long time."
"It has," You laughed a little, and there were only a few signs of the years that passed in your face. A few extra lines, all the smiles and frowns and laughter he missed out on now faintly etched into your skin. Your hair was styled differently, and he suspected the lip gloss you were wearing no longer tasted like candy.
"How have you been?" Suguru heard his own voice asking, sounding far more collected than he felt. His throat was closing up, his chest too tight, heart and lungs straining to hold the rest of him together while he subtly picked at his cuticles.
"I'm great, how are you and uh-" You paused, like you were trying to decide if Satoru was still around or if it'd be rude to ask without knowing. You changed your mind, restarting the question entirely. "Anything new with you?"
Satoru was actually with him. Off raiding the candy aisle, probably. All it'd take was a text or a shout, and he'd show up.
But Suguru had never been good at sharing you.
"Nah, not too much," He started to answer, but then his gaze shifted down and he froze.
You were pregnant.
A soft hand resting on the swell of your stomach, probably what? Six months along? Seven? A cute little sundress clinging to your body, the bag of chips in your other hand and a gleam of gold and diamond glittering on the fourth finger.
You belonged to someone else.
"Never thought I'd see Suguru Geto speechless," You teased, seemingly unbothered by his stunned expression. He hated the way you said his name now.
Like he really was just a stranger.
"Baby, huh?" He slowly said, struggling to find the words that wouldn't make him sound like a jealous asshole when he was so desperately trying to be happy for you.
"He's due in a couple months," You smiled again, and Suguru's composure threatened to crack. You were having a boy, one that would have some stranger's eyes or nose, that wouldn't have his last name or even Satoru's.
He watched the way your hand settled on your baby bump, the affection in the simple gesture. His stare returned to the engagement ring on your finger, the wedding band below it.
And of all the times he imagined you'd get married, he always pictured himself playing the groom, or at the very least, the best man you'd be sleeping with after the ceremony. He never considered he wouldn't even get an invite.
"How long have you been married?" He asked, nodding towards the rings.
Your cute cheeks flushed pink, tilting your head to the side to do the math. "Almost five years now."
Half a decade.
It was longer than you ever lived with them.
"Your husband's a lucky man," Suguru managed to say, soft and low. He meant it. He'd probably trade anything to be in his shoes.
"That's what I tell him," You casually giggled, so carefree compared to the last time he'd seen you. Softer now. Happier.
There was the squeak of a shopping cart, a toddler laughing just a little too loud, and you were both glancing back to look.
Suguru recognized him immediately.
Sure, he had a few more tattoos, his hair grown out a little longer, but what grabbed his attention was what he already knew he'd find - a matching wedding band. The jealousy simmering in his blood had barely started to boil before he noticed the little girl swinging her legs in the cart. One with your hair and his eyes.
"Dah-dee," She whined, glaring at him. "Wan' candy."
"Yeah? You want cavities too?" Sukuna half-scolded, a relaxed quality to him Suguru had never seen before. Content somehow.
"I brush my teeth," She pouted, although it sounded more like teef. Sukuna was about to roll his eyes, looking up just to spot Suguru standing with his pretty, pregnant wife.
His scowl was immediate, his jaw clenching before you were already walking towards him, dropping the bag of chips in the cart and getting up on your toes to kiss his cheek.
"Look who I bumped into," You smiled, as if the last time the three of you had been in the same room, Sukuna hadn't given him a black eye.
Sukuna didn't say anything, just giving him a cold once-over before his stare returned to you. The warmth returned to his face almost immediately, the hard edges softening, his muscles relaxing, like he couldn't control the effect you had on him.
"Who're you?" The toddler in the shopping cart turned to him, a scowl she probably learned from her father plastered on her face.
"He was my friend before I met daddy," You hummed softly, poking her cheek and fixing a lopsided hair clip while your daughter continued to huff and stare at Suguru displeased.
Friend.
He guessed he had never asked for more.
Watching you wrap your arms around another man, his hand on your stomach and your kid begging for snacks in the shopping cart. A heavy ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.
And after this, you'd offer him a little wave and walk out of the aisle and away from him for good, oblivious to the part of him still pining for you, for the family you could've built together. That wished he was the one who'd be kissing your forehead and glaring at any asshole that approached you.
Maybe in another life.
Wasn't that what you said?
a/n: ten bucks says him or Satoru crash out and get another girl pregnant after this and sixteen years later reader and sukuna's son brings home a daughter that looks a little too much like someone they used to know lol - for my girls that love pain and suffering I would be willing to do an alternate ending (I was thinking like a time-travel fix-it but yknow just if y'all are interest lemme know)
my favorite thing about elliot stabler is that rage bait literally always works on him. actually he doesn’t even need bait he’s just tweaking for the love of the game
Do not trust people like me. I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth. I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people
how quickly can the world's fastest driver crash straight into your heart?
synopsis: who would've thought the stranger you meet on vacation would turn out to be four time F1 racing champ, Ryomen Sukuna? or that your summer fling would stretch into the fall? or maybe forever?
pairing: f1 driver!Sukuna x f!Reader
content: mdni, smut and angst and fluff, f1 au, strangers to lovers, sukuna is first driver for Ferrari, gojo and geto cameos, unprotected piv sex, full nelson, brat taming, prone bone, pulling out, phone sex, mutual masturbation, pining, yearning, he's actually incredibly in love with you and SUCH an idiot, jealousy, happy ending
art by @winterrbluess !! special thanks to everyone who shared useful info about f1 racing <33
You didn't know who he was the first time you fucked him. Didn't think to look too long past the pink hair and rough exterior, the pretty ink coloring his tanned skin and the lean muscles rippling underneath his shirt.
In hindsight, that was probably why he liked you.
It wasn't until the second week that you picked up on something being just a little off. You were on vacation. He said he was too. Everything was just casual, days drinking in dingy bars and nights eating at hole-in-the-wall restaurants mostly just for some pretense to pretend this was a whirlwind relationship and not just hot and handsy hookups in his hotel room. He kissed you like he liked you, held you like you were someone to savor. Listened to you talk about your life across the table and indulged you in desert instead of rushing you back to bed.
Then someone snapped a photo of him, a bright flash in the dark corner booth, girls giggling.
You never saw their face, but they'd seen his.
Honestly, you tried to convince yourself it was just because he was hot.
But two days later, your friend sent you a link to some tabloid plastering your picture on the front page.
Ryomen Sukuna spotted with mystery girl?
It only took one search to unravel the rest.
When he mentioned he mostly traveled for work? F1 Racing on weekends in championship cups. Which you guessed was what he meant when he said he liked cars. But what man didn't?
Why the fuck would you assume some guy you met at the beach would be the current first driver's seat for fucking Ferrari?
You didn't know shit about the sport. Or well, any sport.
Strangely enough, you still felt almost betrayed, something stinging at the fact he hadn't bothered to bring it up. You didn't think you were special, or that this was serious. But you didn't like feeling stupid either.
"You're glaring," He commented, stuffing his face full of some high protein meal meant to keep his physique up, a black compression shirt clinging to his chest like he'd come from the gym.
"Okay," You shrugged, picking at your own food.
He picked a place with hardly any people today. No one to catch him with a nobody.
"Are you gonna be a brat all night?" He sighed, dropping his fork and scowling back at you.
"Maybe," You shrugged again, glancing away from him to stare at the cash register. Your wallet was in your purse, the temptation to get up to pay for your half and go getting stronger by the second.
"Fine," He grunted, taking one last big bite before tossing too much cash on the table. You guessed he could do that with how much he was getting paid to drive dangerously and toe the line with death. "Want me to fuck that attitude out of you?"
For all his skills, he still hadn't managed to do that two rounds later.
Both of you panting and sweaty, one palm pressing down on the slight bulge of your stomach where his cock was currently thrusting and the other pressing your thighs up higher, folded into a mean full nelson.
"Fuck, you feel me there?" He groaned, biting yet another bruising hickey into your neck while you nodded weakly.
Your limbs ached, feeling more like accessories than body parts by now, a doll for him to fuck, a way to blow off steam before you both returned to your real lives. His cock stretched you out with each searing pump, splitting you open so his kisses and rough reassurances could stitch you back together.
He stalled inside you with his tip smashed against that spongy spot in the back, holding it there just to make you squirm in his arms. His nose grazed against your ear, his breath warm on your skin before he murmured softly, "Stop holding out on me."
"Oh, a-am I annoying you?" You breathlessly teased, and his little huff sent a shudder through you when he tried to push himself in deeper, that extra inch or two leaving your hips struggling to break free and jolt from him, already filled to the brim and about to spill over.
"You keep runnin' from me," He grunted, and in two blinks, he was switching positions, rolling you over on your stomach and pushing your back into a pretty arch before climbing back over you to prone bone.
Shoving his cock in and pinning you to the mattress with his weight, one of his big hands pressing down on the nape of your neck while he bottomed back out inside you.
"S-Sukuna," You gasped, but then he was leaning down and his mouth was on yours, claiming you with a bruising kiss.
"Again," He practically growled against your lips, his canines nipping at them.
"What?" You blinked, the desire still coiling in your stomach and the cum leaking down your legs and even just the scent of his cologne sticking to the sheets starting to melt the confusion from your mind on how you felt about him..
"Say my name again," Sukuna demanded, barely disguising his own moan when he slammed into you. All your muscles were tense, everything oversensitive already, flying so high you were pretty sure you'd crash any moment.
"Ego maniac," You muttered instead, and he readjusted to deliver a harsh spank across your ass, the pain quickly converting to pleasure when you gasped and squeezed around him.
But then he refused to move, buried to the hilt and not budging.
Sukuna didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He was waiting on you.
You were just as stubborn as he was though, biting your lip and hiding your face in the pillow to try to wait him out, counting on him being impatient or getting pissed off. His cock was throbbing inside you, begging to move, your clit aching for relief of it's own.
But you were both two idiots who couldn't admit what you wanted. Even if it was each other.
"I can stay like this all night, sweetheart," He murmured in your ear, dark and dangerous and delicious.
"Me too," You mocked back, adding a fake yawn and cradling your head over your forearms like you might fall asleep in this position.
He bent first. Or maybe he'd convinced himself he could make you break.
And yeah, amidst the blur of blunt thrusts and love bites, you did end up crying his name more than once when he lifted your hips enough to slip one hand under to play with your clit while he used the angle to practically abuse your poor g-spot, slamming into it every time with damn near surgical precision. Chuckling at the way you whined and shuddered, clenching desperately around his huge cock until he was abruptly pulling out and cumming on your back in thick spurts.
You showered together in silence.
Him passing you the soap and you washing his hair, his arms wrapped around your waist for extra warmth. He draped the towel around you afterwards, and you used an extra one to dry off his hair. Falling asleep in bed tracing the tattoos on his face.
In the morning?
You woke up before him, creeping out of bed to get dressed as quietly as possible.
He still hasn't told you about his career. Or anything really about himself outside the barest of basics. You resigned yourself to keeping the biography you'd read through about him the day before to yourself. What was the point of telling him you knew who he was when you wouldn't see him again?
Your vacation was over. Not wasted, but you were leaving more wistful than when you arrived, a deep and uncomfortable knot tangled in your stomach staring at the handsome man sleeping on the bed and the wrinkled sheets and blanket next to him where you should be.
You would go home. Go back to work and sleeping in your own bed and cooking your own meals until maybe you found some nice, normal guy to settle down with.
He'd go back to bigger and better things. Fucking models instead of a random girl he just happened to meet on his break. Too busy to be with someone like you anyway.
"Where are you going?" Sukuna grunted, scowling as he sat up in bed, running his fingers through his soft hair.
"I've got a flight to catch," You murmured, fixing the strap of your dress and hurrying to collect the last of your things you'd left here over the past two weeks of fucking.
"Oh."
You didn't say anything else, shoving an extra pair of panties from under his bed inside your purse, but it meant getting close enough that he reached out to touch you, fingers ghosting over your hip.
"If I paid, would you stay another day?" He asked, and you really had no clue what the fuck to make of that. His dark eyes had softened, shades of purple ringed underneath them, but they weren't harsh, didn't threaten to cut you down.
It didn't feel like the type of casual sex where you couldn't talk about your personal lives when he stared at you like that.
"I have to go back to work," You mumbled, wishing you didn't just as much as you wished you wouldn't miss him.
"I'll call you."
You didn't believe him.
But three days later, when you were curled up in bed and hating how empty it was, how cold it felt, your phone rang.
"Hi," You breathed, answering on the fourth ring after getting over your surprise.
"Hey," Sukuna grunted.
The phone calls became a common thing. Some weeks every day, others where you barely heard from him at all. But he tried though, even if it was just for a few minutes at a weird time. You answered even if it was at one in the morning or afternoon, forcing yourself to stay awake or sneaking out to the bathroom at work to hear his voice.
He begrudgingly admitted what his job actually was after a couple weeks, downplaying it to just racing. If it wasn't for the odd hours and the short calls, you had a feeling he would've tried to skip over the subject entirely. You tried to accept it. Asked if he'd be weirded out if you looked him up or watched his races. Sukuna's whatever wasn't exactly reassuring.
But it was pretty easy to piece together that he lived and breathed racing.
He'd been born into it. Karted as a kid and grown up behind the wheel.
You guessed you were the only thing in his life that was just for himself, outside of all of that.
"You sound stressed," You commented, cuddling a pillow to your chest and suppressing a yawn. There wasn't a real routine to this, but after a few months, you'd gotten comfortable with his calls instead of spending all day nervous and stressed over them.
"Gojo's trying to take my seat," Sukuna scoffed. He rarely talked about this sort of stuff with you, barely brought it up, so you knew it was bothering him much more than he let on. He never opened up, not the way most people did, just dropping occasional bits of information that you had to stitch together with what was publicly available.
Unsupportive family, a more rough upbringing than the rest of his competitors, rivalries that'd started long before he ever qualified for F1. Despite everything, he'd still won the world championship four times in six years, the past two consecutive wins.
"I mean, can he do that?" You asked, unsure how exactly those sort of decisions were made. You knew Gojo was still a couple years younger than Sukuna, but probably his biggest competitor. Rumors had started to swirl about the white-haired pretty boy moving to a different team next year after his contract was up.
"Over my dead fuckin' body.'
A lump too large for you to choke down bubbled up in your throat, a newfound fear you'd recently discovered after looking up clips of him racing in your free time. The idea of his crashing or doing something reckless and getting himself killed had implanted itself in your head no matter how many times you tried to shake it out.
"You still there?" He grunted.
"Yeah, I am," You swallowed hard, doing your best to force those thoughts down too.
"What are you doing?" Sukuna asking sounded more like demanding, but his voice had taken on a different quality now. Darker, more hoarse. In desperate need of relaxing.
"I'm in bed," You admitted, rolling flat on your back in anticipation.
"And?"
"I'm wearing your favorite pair of panties," You murmured, face flushing already.
"And you weren't going to send me a picture?' He tch-ed.
"One second," You muttered, readjusting to open your camera and try to pose, despite how unnatural it felt. You snapped a few photos, then flipped the camera around, pulling up your loose t-shirt to take a couple more pictures of your tits, careful to make sure your face wasn't in frame.
They were immediately marked as seen once they were delivered.
"Fuck," He murmured, and you could hear the sharp inhale he sucked in.
"Do I get one too?" You giggled, heat already starting to pool between your thighs at the idea of him touching himself to you.
He hung up, a request to video chat almost immediately popping up instead. You nervously accepted, fixing your hair and chewing on the inside of your cheek before flipping the camera down to where your panties were clinging to your skin, slipping a hand down between your thighs teasingly.
"Sukuna?" You said, the picture on the other side grainy as it connected before you got the view of him stroking his pretty cock, his huge hand furiously pumping up-and-down over the thick veins, his tip almost as pink as his hair.
"It should be you here," He grumbled, his voice cutting out for a second afterwards.
"Yeah? You just miss fucking me?" You softly laughed, your heart straining in your chest at the rough timber of his voice.
"Wanna see your face," He gritted his teeth, like it was something difficult to confess.
You didn't want him to see you blush, but he was hard to say no to, harder to convince yourself you wanted whatever scraps of him he offered to you.
Hesitantly, you flipped the camera around to your face, and he let out a hoarse moan, his hand working faster, sloppy strokes that didn't match his usually calculated precision.
"Touch yourself for me," He muttered, all gravelly.
"You're gonna talk me through it?" You teased, and the sound he made was half a scoff and half a chuckle.
"Whatever my brat wants."
It was embarrassing how much you wanted to just be his.
You slowly pressed two fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, making slow circles over the fabric just for extra friction.
"Should I flip the c-camera?" You asked, your breath hitching as you increased the pressure, thighs tense as you watched him jerk off, not sure if it was pre-cum or lube making his hands so slick.
"No," He huffed. "Need to see your face when you cum."
A flash of heat washed over you, your inhales starting to get shaky, your fingers twitching as you began trembling with each harsh circle you traced.
You scrunched your eyes shut, reclining your head back against your pillow and struggling to focus.
"Eyes on me, pretty," He chuckled, and you whined, pouting at him when you peeked them back open, barely able to hold yourself together staring at his cock on screen as you picked up the pace. Wishing it was your hand instead of his and his instead of yours, wishing for him to just be here instead of countries away, for him to fuck you the way he had months ago.
"Are you gonna cum for me, baby?" You murmured, his hand twitching and stalling for a second while he made some hissing sound, like he barely stopped himself from finishing them and there.
"Jus' waiting for you first," He growled, and you could practically hear his clenched jaw. Watching the veins of his cock pulse, the way it twitched at every little flicker of your expression, imagining how it'd feel in your mouth or buried deep in your cunt. You gasped a little, the pressure building and teetering on the verge of snapping, your hips arching up to chase the high. "Close, princess?"
His voice shoved you over.
Headfirst and falling hard as you unravelled in front of him, your common sense snapping with it when you moaned his name, murmuring something about how much you liked him and hoping he didn't hear it. He was cumming too, coating his strong, sturdy fingers white.
You were both breathless, coming back down in the same comfortable quiet you shared in person.
"You make a cute face when you cum," He eventually said, and you couldn't decide if it was a compliment or just him mocking you in some casually cruel way.
Sukuna was a hard man to understand. But you guessed that was by design. He didn't want anyone to know him.
"Do I?" You dryly asked, yawning out loud this time.
"Would I say it if you didn't?" He grunted.
"You just like to tease me," You complained halfheartedly, curling back up on your side.
"So?"
You shrugged, too tired to offer a better response tonight.
"I'll get you plane tickets. There's a race I want you to come to next month," He grunted, confident that you wouldn't say no.
"Seriously?" You hesitated, hoping it wasn't written on your face.
"Yeah," He insisted, like he was exasperated he had to reiterate it.
There was another race next weekend, but you wondered if maybe he'd just be too busy for you then. Or what other reason he had to wait for the one next month.
"Okay, sure, I guess. Um, I'll request off from work," You mumbled, a faint fluttering starting to stir in your stomach at the realization you might be seeing him again soon.
"Good."
Somewhere along the way, all the lines between friend and girlfriend had gotten blurred.
In your head, the dim hope that maybe he offered to fly you out was to make whatever this was official.
But when you tuned into watching his press conference the next Thursday for his upcoming race?
You hadn't realized how clearly he'd draw the boundaries back. It was stupid. Him scowling as some reporter baited and asked him a question about if there was a special someone supporting him or cheering for him before he rolled his eyes and said he wasn't in a relationship so they should stop asking.
Ouch.
You didn't watch any of the races. Ignored his two-sentence text where he didn't even apologize for being too busy to talk. Didn't answer his call two nights later.
He sent a bunch of questions marks in response.
Which might've made you laugh if you weren't already crying for getting too attached when you knew better.
The next day you'd send a congratulations message for him winning or placing or whatever the fuck he'd done, giving some excuse for being too busy with your own work to chat.
You went a week without calling. Barely replying to his texts hours afterwards, trying to untangle him from your heart.
Gojo, the guy in the second Ferrari seat, posted photos of them together though, ones that got plastered on a bunch of stupid sports news sites you'd forgotten to turn off notifications for, ones where they were at some club you'd never be able to get into, pretty girls next to them, diehard fans, apparently.
So when one of your coworkers asked you on a date?
You said yes.
Got dressed up, put on your makeup and plastered a bandaid over your heart. He picked you up with flowers in hand, waiting outside while you hurried to put them in a vase before walking back out with a shy smile.
"You look gorgeous," Geto hummed, a warm hand pressed against your back as he lead you to the car.
"Thank you," You blushed, but you couldn't tell if the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering or being stabbed.
Geto was a smooth-talker, all soft-spoken words that soothed your blistered disposition and dreamy eyes it'd be easy to lose yourself in. So why couldn't you?
The date was picture perfect. Not a detail out of place.
But when he dropped you back off, you couldn't bring yourself to invite him inside. You let him kiss you, his lips soft and tasting like wine as he caressed your cheek.
"I'd like to take you out again sometime," He murmured, apparently not put off by your reluctance. "I had fun tonight."
"Yeah?" You asked, wondering if maybe you needed more time to move past the man still lingering on your mind.
"Yeah."
You watched through a window as he drove away.
Changing into pajamas before digging your phone out of your purse, planning on scrolling through videos before you saw two missed calls and six missed texts.
You'd only read through a few of Sukuna demanding to know why you weren't talking to him before he was calling again.
Your thumb hovered over the button before you begrudgingly answered him. "Hello?"
"God, do you know how long I've been trying to call you?" He gritted his teeth, clearly annoyed already.
"Sorry," You shrugged. "I was on a date."
"A date?" Sukina was about to blow a fuse. That one vein that sometimes throbbed on his forehead was probably about to explode.
"Yeah?" You hummed, unbothered.
"That's not funny," He scoffed.
"Good thing I'm not joking," You sighed, walking around to fiddle with the flowers now sitting pretty in your vase, fingers grazing over the individual petals.
"What the fuck?" He huffed.
"Is there a problem with that?" You asked, walking the line between being an asshole and being apathetic. "I mean, didn't you just say you weren't in a relationship?"
"Shit, you saw that? I'm sorry, it's not like that, just look-"
Yeah, shit.
"It's fine, I get it, you play by a different set of rules than the rest of us, right? My fault for thinking I meant more." You accepted the blame because there was nothing else you could do with it.
Everything else hurt.
"It does mean more," His voice was low, like it took all his pride to admit it.
"Uh-huh," You dismissively nodded, tucking your phone between your ear and your shoulder.
"Did that prick even treat you right?" He grumbled, having an easier time hating someone else than focusing on his issues.
"He brought me flowers. Paid for my dinner. I had fun," You offered the smallest details, just enough to irritate him. To rub salt in his wound too.
"Are you going to see him again?" He asked, acidic and harsh.
"Maybe."
The silence was heavy this time, thick with tension and crackling with some charge you could feel even when he was in a different country.
"Don't."
"Why?" You genuinely asked this time.
"Give me a chance," He grumbled, before reluctantly murmuring, "Please."
"I'll think about it," You hummed noncommittally.
"Just, get on the plane, okay? I'll take care of everything else." Sukuna was probably scowling even when he was begging you.
The next night there was a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers delivered to your door along with your favorite food, and you didn't need to read the card attached to the flowers to know it was all from him. But you read it anyway.
I'm not letting you go. Sukuna.
You hadn't quite believed it until he'd actually managed to pick you up from the airport a couple weeks later, surely missing some kind of practice or press event, a sign made with your name on it. You almost didn't recognize him when he had on a hoodie and dark shades, probably trying to go unnoticed.
But the second he saw you, he was walking fast over to you, pulling you into him with a crushing hug, like he needed to know you were real.
That you hadn't given up on him yet.
He kissed you the second you got into the passenger seat of his car, his hands in your hair and his mouth on yours, trying to memorize your taste again after so long.
"I was an asshole," He admitted.
"Yeah," You scoffed.
"Sorry," He gruffly apologized. "I thought you knew."
"Knew what? That you're a dick? Or that you don't want people to know about us?" You sarcastically murmured between kisses, and he was hurrying to pull you onto his lap, his hands on your ass and his mouth trailing down your throat.
"That I'm an idiot in love with you," He grunted, and you froze, completely stiff as his sturdy thighs tensed underneath you.
"Don't be stupid," You huffed, refusing to believe him.
"Too late," He chuckled, his teeth sinking in to leave a light love bite above your collarbone. "Gonna show you off all weekend long."
And Sukuna rarely said anything he didn't mean.
His hands refusing to leave your waist when he showed you around the paddock, introducing you as his girlfriend and grumbling when he got dragged into media events.
"So you're actually real, huh?" A cheeky voice teased, aligning an arm around your shoulder while you sipped on an overpriced drink Sukuna had insisted on getting you.
You shoved Gojo off, recognizing him from voice alone.
"I'm Satoru Gojo," He grinned, sticking his hand for you to shake.
You didn't get to shake it before Sukuna returned from talking to their team principal, your boyfriend swatting his hand away from you.
"No touching my girl," He grunted.
"Are you his girl?" Gojo pouted, pushing out a plush, pink bottom lip. "Come on, you could do better, this guy's such a buzzkill."
You thought Sukuna was going to punch him.
"Are you trying to say you're better?"
"Don't fuckin' answer that," Sukuna scowled at him, pulling you back and leading you somewhere else, maybe to show you his real car up close like he'd promised on the way over.
It was prettier in person, a dark shade of red and sleek design. He ran his hands over it, pride glinting in his eyes.
And it kinda terrified you still, to picture him inside that death trap, but you liked watching him in his element, the way it seemed to be a second skin to him.
"Eyes on me out there," He murmured.
You don't think your eyes left him once the rest of the weekend.
In the haze of heated touches or when he was on the circuit, watching on the screen and unable to rip your attention away. He drove with the same control that he lived with - like he couldn't die.
No one was surprised when he took the top spot this time.
What did was him going to you first after he won. Kissing you in front of the crowd and picking you up in a tight hug.
Instead of an after-party, he dragged you back to his hotel room, pulling you back on top of his lap, already tugging your dress up and shoving your panties aside to push himself in after fingerfucking you stupid on the ride over. Your head was a little dizzy from the champagne he popped, your giggle turning into a gasp as his thick tip grinded up into you.
"Easy," You laughed, his fingers squeezing your sides as he guided you up-and-down slowly, savoring each second of being inside you.
"Can't I get my trophy?" He complained with a huff, brows furrowed together as he dragged you back down on his dick, distracting you from the stretch with a long kiss.
"I'm your trophy?" You giggled again, tilting your head back for him to decorate your throat with more hickies.
"My favorite one," He taunted, holding your hips in place and groaning at the way you squeezed around him.
He wasn't used to taking anything slow, but he was trying for you.
"What'd you think?" Sukuna asked as you tangled your fingers through his hair.
"Of what?" You hummed, relaxing into his touch.
"Everything. Did you like it?" He cocked his head to the side, leaning back against the bed's headboard and pulling you closer. The VIP lanyard still dangling around your neck bounced with the force, but you laughed. You were still nervous, still anxious and unsure of how it'd be to adjust to long-distance and what life with him meant. But the past few days had been a high you didn't want to give up.
Sukuna was someone you didn't want to give up.
His hands settled on your waist instead, enjoying being ridden for once instead of in the driver's seat.
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