copyright @preval-ence # I do not authorize my work to be translated, modified, plagiarized, reposted, nor fed to AI for any reason. all rights reserved.
tags: modern AU, Sukuna x f!Reader, graphic designer!Reader, tired girl x tired man, Sukuna's soft and quiet, reader's a bit of a yapper, reader exhaustion realism, quiet intimacy, slow burn, slice-of-life, subtle yearning, emotional restraint, short chapters and minimal dialogue (at the beginning), eventual angst
You shop at the same store every week at the same day and at the same time. He does so too. And it all just happens that youâre no longer strangers one day, enjoying each other's company one grocery run at a time.
status: original - completed; sukuna pov - ongoing
reader pov wc: 73k
main masterlistââŠâao3
READER POV (original)
Week One
Week Two
Week Three
Week Four
Week Five
Week Six
Week Seven
Week Eight
Week Nine
Week Ten
Week Eleven
Week Twelve
Week Thirteen
Week Fourteen
Week Fifteen
Week Sixteen
Week Seventeen
Week Eighteen
Week Nineteen
Week Twenty
Week Twenty One
Week Twenty Two
Week Twenty Three
Week Twenty Four
Week Twenty Five
Week Twenty Six
Week Twenty Seven
Week Twenty Eight
Week Twenty Nine
Week Thirty
Week Thirty One
Postscript (ending notes, contains spoilers)
SUKUNA POV
important: do not read this side by side with the original. youâll miss the entire slow burn if you move between chapters.
the correct order is:
â1. read the full reader's POV (weeks 1â31)
â2. then return to sukunaâs POV
this side is meant to answer questions, but only after you know the whole story.
Week One
Week Two
Week Three
Week Four
Week Five
Week Six
Week Seven
Week Eight
Week Nine
Week Ten
Week Eleven
Week Twelve
Week Thirteen
Week Fourteen
Week Fifteen
Week Sixteen
Week Seventeen
Week Eighteen
Week Nineteen
Week Twenty
...
notes: this is something i started writing when work got overwhelming, so the readerâs work frustrations mirror mine in a way. iâm not actually a graphic designer, but i used that profession because itâs easier to explain the kinds of issues i deal with in my real one. itâs not a one-to-one translation, just the closest way to put it into words for the sake of the story.
áĄà§ Fix your route? Nah, Fuck you right. â N. Kento.
áĄà§ synopsis: in which nanami is a longtime divorced man but got a very active sex life. and in which a new, bimbo⊠and a very much younger neighbor moves in next to his apartment. worst part is, heâs not able to control himself around you. especially when youâre at his door, asking him to fix your wifi late at this hour.
áĄà§ pairing: older!nanami kento x kinda bimbo fem!reader
áĄà§ c. warnings: age gap, heavy sexuĂĄl tension, eyefu cking, solo m. mast urbation, nanami is in his 40s and reader is early 20s, belly/tummy bulge, fing ering, did i say heavy se xual tension?, pus sy eating, overstim ulation, squi rting, weak plot/heavy po rn â if thereâs more to tag lmk. w.c: 7.8k+
nanami kento has always kept his life neat and quiet, the kind of man who folds his shirts the same way every morning and times his coffee exactly seven minutes after the water boils. forty years old, divorced once a long time ago, and now he lives alone in the corner apartment on the fourth floor where the hallway light flickers just enough to remind him he should probably call maintenance but never does.
his sex life is the same as everything else he controls, sparse and deliberate. a few times a year he lets himself download one of those bland apps, meets a woman his age in a hotel bar, fucks her slow and polite in the dark so neither of them has to look too closely at the other.
most nights though it is just his own hand in the shower, quick and efficient, eyes closed while he thinks about nothing at all. he likes it that way. clean. no mess. no complications. until you moved in next door three months ago and ruined every single one of those careful rules without even trying.
you showed up on a rainy tuesday with too many cardboard boxes and a laugh that carried through the thin walls like it belonged there.
early twenties, fresh out of whatever college or job that spat you into this building, always in oversized shirts and tiny sleep shorts that rode up the back of your thighs when you bent over to pick up your mail. nanami noticed you the first time he passed you in the hallway, the way you smiled at him like he was just another neighbor instead of a man who suddenly felt every one of those twenty years between you. he told himself it was nothing. just new noise in a building that had been quiet for years. but then the noise became something else.
the soft thump of your music when you cooked dinner, the way your balcony light stayed on late while you scrolled on your phone, the faint vanilla scent that drifted under his door every time you took out the trash. he started catching himself pausing at the peephole when he heard your keys, hating the way his cock twitched at the mere sound of your footsteps. hating it more when he realized he was hard again in the shower that same night, fist wrapped tight around himself while he pictured those sleep shorts pooled around your ankles.
he tried to ignore it at first. threw himself into longer office hours, came home later, kept the volume on his television higher so he would not hear you humming in the shower through the shared wall. it did not work.
every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.
he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.
then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.
nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.
your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over heâs not surprised. âsorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what iâm doing with these things.â he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.
you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.
you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanamiâs jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighborâs collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.
âthank you so much for coming,â you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.
nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.
you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. âit just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it butâŠâ your words trail off when he glances up.
his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.
fuck.
he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.
âlet me see,â he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.
he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.
every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.
he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanamiâs eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.
he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.
he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.
âis it the cable?â you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.
his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.
âtry it now,â he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.
âit works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.â you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.
he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.
he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.
nanamiâs voice comes out rougher than he means. âyou should get a better router. this one is outdated.â it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.
the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.
he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.
you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.
your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.
âso maybe you could stay and i could make you some teââ your proposal is short lived.
âiâve fixed what youâve called me to help for. goodnight.â his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.
nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.
and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications âding-ingâ every seconds.
+
a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.
nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.
it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.
it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.
he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.
you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.
each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite âgood morning, nanami-sanâ you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people⊠your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.
he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.
tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.
the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.
nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.
you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something⊠private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. itâs as if last week was repeating itself.
âthe router again,â you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. âit keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but⊠i think i need your help again.â
he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.
he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.
you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.
the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.
nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.
he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. heâs sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.
âthe router is working fine,â he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. âyou know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?â
you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.
your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.
the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanamiâs right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.
his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. âwhat are you doing?â he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.
you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanamiâs breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.
he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. âdonât.â but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.
you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.
nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.
he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. âyouâre a very young girlâŠâ he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.
you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. âiâm legal.â
âbarely,â he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. âyouâre barely twenty-something. iâm more than twice your age. this⊠this is not appropriate.â
you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. âand yet youâre standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,â you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. âyouâve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.â
caught him red handed. fuck you.
he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. âyou have no idea what youâre asking for,â he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. âiâm not some young man who can just⊠give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who canât keep his eyes off you.â
the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanamiâs breath hitches sharply. âthen why does it feel like youâve been thinking about this as much as i have?â you ask, voice barely above a whisper. âwhy do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?â
his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.
âbecause i do,â he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. âi want to. more than i should. but youâre young. barely out of college. and iâm⊠this.â he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. âa tired man who should know better.â
you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. âthen stop fighting it for one night,â you whisper. âjust let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. iâve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.â
the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.
he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.
nanamiâs hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.
he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.
his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.
his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.
he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.
the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.
nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.
he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.
he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. ânanamiâŠpleaâ fuck, itâs too much,â you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.
he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. âlook at how well you take them,â he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.
the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.
he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.
only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.
he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.
nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.
when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.
your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.
he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.
you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.
the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.
âbreathe,â he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.
he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.
youâre pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.
nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.
his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.
the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.
he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.
âtoo big for you?â he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.
your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.
his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.
now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.
he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.
you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.
nanamiâs rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.
but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.
with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.
your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.
he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.
the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.
your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanamiâs eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, âdo that again and iâll fucking hurt you good.â
the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.
nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.
âi know, baby, i know,â he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. âyou can take it. just let it happen.â your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.
nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.
his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.
the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.
nanamiâs forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.
nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.
your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.
finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.
a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.
the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.
he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.
âthisâŠâ his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. âthis canât happen again.â
the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.
he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.
âget some rest,â he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. âand⊠call the building manager about the router next time.â
the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.
well yâall i had to claw my nails onto a wall to storm this idea so it better do good or youâre not hearing from me again.. (iâm literally posting in few hours again đ)
( 18+ mdni ) frat!sukuna breaks the only rule he cared about: donât catch feelings. part 1 / part 2
fratboy!sukuna who notoriously doesnât give a damn about anyone but himself. everyone knows heâs troubleâ tattoos crawling up his arms, that sharp tongue dripping with sarcasm and filth. everyone adores him just as much as they loathe him. itâs sukuna, for fuckâs sake. the unpredictable, sharp-edged party boy who lives in constant chaos. girls rotate through his bedroom like clockwork, only for him to discard them the moment heâs done. he doesnât text back, doesnât offer breakfast the morning after, and never promises shit, but thatâs fine, because everyone knows where they stand with him. sukuna doesnât do strings. he doesnât do relationships. but he definitely does dares.
fratboy!sukuna who sits sprawled out on the dingy leather couch in the middle of another friday night dorm party, ignoring the blaring music and cheap vodka in someoneâs hand. the conversation has turned into a game, one of his frat brothers leaning back with a shit-eating grin and that look that screams, it's your turn. âiâve got one for you, sukuna,â one of the others slurs, leaning close and pointing across the room. âsee that girl? nerdy little thing, y/n. bet you couldnât pull her.â
sukunaâs eyes flick lazily to you, tucked in the corner. youâre chatting it up with one of your friends, wearing those little wire-rimmed glasses that make you look harmless, a sweatshirt pulled snug over your frame like you're hiding yourself from the party. you donât belong here. and thatâs exactly why the dare piques his interest.
âi could pull anyone,â sukuna scoffs, grinning slow, sharp, and smug. âbut, sure. why not?â he doesnât even think twice about it. itâs just a game. always has been. he strides over to you like he owns the room, all confidence and heat, sliding himself into your conversation without hesitation. that cocky smile is burned into your memory by the time the night is over.
fratboy!sukuna who wasnât expecting you to be so fucking pretty up close. when you finally tilt your head up to look at him, his world stutters for half a second. youâre biting your lip nervously, adjusting your glasses, and your voice is sweeter than he expected when you mutter, âdo you... uh, need something?â pretty. soft. so completely opposite everything heâs ever gone for before. something about it makes his chest tighten in a way he doesnât like or understand, but still, sukuna pushes deeperâ complimenting your smile, teasing you subtly until you flush, and offering to walk you out when the party dies down. you let him, much to his surprise.
but at first? itâs just harmless fun. he wasnât expecting to fuck you right awayâ thought youâd be one of those âpureâ types, the ones that get all flustered if someone stares too long at their lips. but you surprise him almost immediately. when he leans in closer and murmurs, âyou seem tense, sweetheart. never had a guy flirt with you before?â you blink up at him, smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, and say, ânot like you.â itâs enough to make his cock twitch in his jeans before you excuse yourself with a cute little âgoodnight,â leaving sukuna more frustrated than heâs been in a loooong time.
fratboy!sukuna who starts bumping into you more often after that night. in class. at the library. in the quad. it shouldnât mean anything, but everytime he runs into you, there you areâ dressed modestly but with this soft, natural kind of beauty that drives him insane. your hair always smells sweet, and when you look up from your books and push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, it fucking wrecks him. he turns it into a game; teasing you relentlessly, taking the empty seat next to you in lectures just to mutter filthy things under his breath that make your cheeks heat up, watching out of the corner of his eye as your thighs subtly clench. sukuna can tell you donât play games like this, and thatâs why itâs so fun for him.
fratboy!sukuna who decides to make a move during yet another party. you donât go often, but this time sukuna had a hand in convincing you to show up. tossing careless words your way all week, like, âi donât get why you hide all the time. bet theyâve never seen you in a dress,â followed by a wink. to his surprise, you actually show upâ looking fucking gorgeous, no less. your usual baggy sweatshirt gone in favor of a tight little dress that hugs your curves. he wasnât supposed to react to this, wasnât supposed to notice how good you look, but fuck, now his mouth is dry, and he wants you bad.
it starts with small talk, heated glances, subtle touchesâ his fingers brushing the back of your thigh when no oneâs watching, the deep rasp in his voice when he leans in close and murmurs, âyouâre gonna ruin me tonight.â you giggle nervously, but he sees the way your eyes light up. like you canât decide if you want to slap him or kiss him.
fratboy!sukuna who ends up with you pinned against the wall of his room an hour later, tearing that tight little dress straight off your body. the whole night had led to thisâ him pushing boundaries, you not stopping himâ and now, sukuna admits, youâre better than any fuck heâs imagined. heâs fucking obsessed already. youâre shaking, clinging to his shoulders, your soft moans muffled against his neck as he whispers filthy shit into your ear, voice dipping low like gravel. âknew youâd be fucking sweet, baby. that tight little pussy just begging for me to ruin it.â he lifts you easily, shameless about the way he palms your ass roughly, swirling his thick cock around your entrance before thrusting in completely.
you cry out as he stretches you, and sukuna loses his mind with how tight and wet you feel. he rams into you relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he fists the back of your hair, tilting your head to force you to look at him. âsee that, sweetheart? look at yourself. cockdrunk already, yeah? canât take your eyes off me, huh?â his grin spreads wider as the tears stream down your cheeks, overwhelmed sobs escaping your lips as your body trembles with every brutal thrust. he knows itâs nasty. he knows heâs going too far, sucking marks into your neck, positioning you how he wants, legs thrown high over his shoulders so he can jackhammer into you, then face down on the mattress so he can admire the pretty way you arch your back for him.
fratboy!sukuna who falls harder than he ever thought he could. itâs not just about fucking anymoreâ the way you unravel under his touch, the soft, nervous laugh you make when he teases you about being a little nerd, the way you whisper âmissed youâ everytime he leaveâ it leaves an ache in his chest, one that spreads further every time he sees you. he wasnât supposed to like you. you were a fucking dare. but now, you giggle and ramble about some book you love after heâs fucked you raw, completely naked in his lap as you tuck your face under his chin, and sukuna realizes he doesnât want anyone else in the room except you.
fratboy!sukuna whoâs falling, and you notice. you see the change in how he touches youâ his hands lingering longer on the curve of your back, the soft way he tucks your hair behind your ear. it terrifies you because for as much as he looks at you like youâre the only girl in the room, you know what he is. you know every girl heâs fucked, every name heâs probably forgotten. men like sukuna donât fall. they donât change. he canât love youâ not someone like him.
but then he fucks up. after sneaking you out of his room following another sleepover, one of his frat brothers makes a comment when you pass. âfinally bagged her, huh, sukuna?â his friend grins, smug as ever, not noticing the storm brewing in sukunaâs sharp glare. âalways knew youâd win the daââ the word doesnât finish before sukuna slams him against the wall, snarling something about shutting the fuck up and staying in his lane. you freeze. the dare. you werenât stupidâ you put it all together as all the pieces fell into place, and the betrayal sinks deep into your chest.
âwhat dare?â you ask quietly when sukuna catches up to you afterward, his favorite cocky mask faltering. âtell me, sukuna. was i just some bet to you?â
and the thing isâ he wants to deny it. to explain that he didnât think youâd matter to him, to admit you were supposed to be nothing... but then somehow became everything. but he canât form the words, and youâre already pulling away.
fratboy!sukuna who doesnât know how to fix it. he doesnât know how to look you in the eyes and admit, i fucked up. i fucked up, but iâm in love with you. and now you're gone, just like that, leaving him empty in a way heâs never felt before. of all the shit heâs landed himself in, none of it compares to the ache of knowing he lost you, the one girl he never intended to care about in the first place. you were supposed to be a game. why does it feel like his whole world just shattered?
fratboy!sukuna who hates himself, realizing too late that he never gave a fuck about the dareâ that the first time you smiled at him, he was already yours. but now? now heâs sitting alone on that same couch with his cock in his hand, scrolling through blurry photos of you, drunk and desperate because no matter who he tries to touch now, nothing feels like you. maybe he fucking deserves itâŠ
( 18+ mdni ) perv!sukuna canât stop thinking about you.
sukuna doesnât know what it is about you that drives him so fucking crazy. maybe itâs the way you carry yourselfâ too sweet, too tempting, too oblivious to how twisted his thoughts get everytime youâre around. or maybe itâs just the fact that you donât see it at all. that you meet his eyes without a flicker of suspicion, that your smile never falters, even when you probably should know better.
heâs fucking obsessed with you.
itâs pathetic, it really is. he knows it. knows that these fantasies heâs been weaving in his head are fucked on so many levels, that the way he follows you like a shadow, bumping into you at your favorite spots, finding excuses to talk to you every chance he getsâ is borderline sick. the worst part? you donât even seem to mind.
sweet little thingâ thatâs what he calls you in his head. like thatâs all you are.
but sukunaâs favorite part of the day isnât actually seeing you. itâs after.
itâs when he comes back here. alone. when he shuts the door to his room, locks it, pulls on that tight knot of anticipation in his stomach thatâs been burning since the moment he saw you earlierâ smiling at the barista, laughing with a friend, tilting your head as you listened, lashes fluttering like you werenât already driving him insane.
every glance, every fucking word from you rolls through his head unchecked as he slouches back on his bed, muscles taut, hand already tugging his sweats down to free his cock. itâs heavy in his palm, already hard and leaking at the thought of youâ at the scent of your perfume still lingering faintly on his hoodie after you borrowed it the other night.
the phone in his other hand buzzes faintly, screen lit up with you.
itâs a photo heâd saved weeks ago. nothing lewd or incriminating, just a picture youâd posted of yourself all innocent and happy, the sunlight streaming through a window catching the curve of your lips and the tilt of your head just fucking right. but he doesnât need anything more. youâre perfect even like thisâ too perfect.
he spits into his palm, stroking down his shaft sluggishly, his grip tightening as his chest rises and falls unevenly. his brows furrow, his teeth dragging across his bottom lip as his mind spirals into filth, letting himself sink back into the fantasies he knows so well.
he imagines you on your knees. barely clothed, wide-eyed, eager to please but unsure if you can take him. he knows heâs bigâ knows the way your hand would struggle to wrap around the thick base of his length. heâd see it in your eyes, that spark of fear mingled with curiosity, glancing up at him like you didnât know what youâd gotten yourself into.
and fuck, heâd take care of you. he always would. youâre his sweet thingâ you deserve nothing less. heâd thread his fingers through your hair, tighten his grip just enough to keep you in place as he pressed his cock to your soft, wet lips. youâd look so good there, dripping spit down to your chest, spluttering when heâd push in a little more, shallow but enough to make you gag around him.
his cock twitches in his grip at the thought, his jaw slacking as his abs tighten. âfuck,â he mutters, voice low and rasping in the quiet of the room, his head tipped back against the wall as he strokes himself faster.
but heâs greedy. one fantasy isnât enough.
now youâre above him, thighs shaking as you straddle his waist, trying so fucking hard to fit him inside of you. he can picture the way your brow would tense, biting your bottom lip, your tiny hands braced against his chest as you struggle to take him deeper. he bets youâd whimper for him too, just on the edge of crying, but too stubborn to admit defeat.
âdumb little slut,â heâd mutter to you, fingers digging into your hips to guide you back down despite the way your walls would clench, trying to push him out. ââs too much for you, huh? thought you said you could handle it?â
the pace of his fist quickens, precum spilling over the thick veins of his cock, making it slick as he strokes wildly against the tight ache pooling low in his stomach. he adjusts, leaning forward slightly and letting his slick palm roll over the angry red tip of his cock, the motion electrifying every nerve as he grits his teeth hard enough to ache.
âshit, shitââ he grunts, trying to hold himself off for just a moment longer, his head foggy with the image of you beneath him.
yeah, thatâs better.
fuck you riding him. heâd pin you down to the mattress, spread your legs, hike your knees up and make it even easier to wreck you. heâd cover you completelyâ his massive frame eclipsing your smaller one, his hips cramming you into the squeaking mattress as he fucks into you rough, deliberate, barely pulling out before grinding back inside to hear those pathetic little whimpers spilling from your lips.
âyeah, youâd fuckinâ love that,â he mutters under his breath, his free hand gripping his thigh hard enough to leave marks as his cock throbs erratically in his hand, his pace growing sloppy. wild. instinctual at this point.
youâd beg him to slow down but wouldnât mean it. soaked and trembling, dragging your nails down his back, pulling him closer with every thrust because no matter how much youâd cry, how much youâd gasp about how big he was, you needed him.
fuck. he can barely see straight anymore, his breathing erratic, his hips bucking into his fist as his body practically folds forward under the weight of his own pleasure.
âgonna fuckinâ cum all over you, princess,â he mutters lowly, the muscles in his thighs contracting as his knuckles whiten around his cock. âgonna fill that cute fuckinâ pussy like you were made for itâfuckââ
the pressure finally snaps, sending him spiraling into the edge of insanity. his hips roll up off the mattress as his cock twitches violently in his grip, cum spilling thick and hot over his knuckles, streaking down as his abs tense and tremble from the force of it. the sticky mess coats his hand and dribbles down his thighs, a few stray drops streaking against his still-lit phoneâ your angelic smile almost glowing beneath the pool of white.
âfuck,â he groans again, voice hoarse as his breathing slows, his cock softening in his grip. he sprawls lazily over the bed, his hands sticky and his mind still clouded, half-aware of the near-debilitating ache still burning faintly in his chest.
and then, for the first time in minutes, his gaze twitches toward the ceilingâ toward the faint, unmistakable sound of footsteps just outside his door.
his grin stretches slow and sharp across his face.
yeah. heâs sure you heard that, princess.
whatâs the harm?
after all, you are his roommate.
decided to spare yâall from the angst only for a lil bit and give u this LOL
synopsis: your new neighborhood is good so far. the folks are friendly and the big, scary guy next door is hot. but what happens when the noise coming from his apartment becomes too much andâis that a baby you hear?
contains: fluff, little bit of crack, neighbors to enemies to friends to lovers, angst if you squint, domestic moments, slice-of-life, uncle sukuna, nephew yuji, dinosaurs, unlikely co-parents(?), nonsexual nudity, jealousy, slowburn(?), making out, eventual smut (dry humping), sukuna yearning, mentions of clubbing and alcohol as well as drug and gambling addiction.
words: 24.2k (complete)
part one
part two
part three
extra:
one two
drabbles:
#1 #2 #3 #4 #5
note: this started off as just a random one-shot but these two grew on me so now it's a series! i may write extras or drabbles for them whenever i get the itch.
satoru gojoâs been your roommate for six goddamn months, and every single night heâs been losing his mind over you.
heâs obsessed â full-blown, sick-in-the-head obsessed. the second you leave for class or work, heâs in your room like a ghost, rifling through your laundry basket until his long fingers snag the prettiest pair of panties you own. the lacy black ones with the little bow? yeah, those are his favorites. he shoves them straight to his face, inhales deep like a fucking addict, then wraps the soaked crotch around his massive cock and strokes himself stupid in your bed.
âfuck⊠smell so good, baby,â he groans every time, white lashes fluttering, those insane blue eyes rolling back while he pumps his thick, veiny length. heâs huge â stupidly huge â the kind of dick that makes your useless boyfriend look like a sad little joke. satoruâs cock is pale, flushed angry red at the tip, curved just enough to ruin you, with a fat vein running up the underside that he knows would drag perfectly against your walls. heâs thought about it a thousand times. thought about hiding a tiny camera right above your headboard so he could watch your pathetic boyfriend try (and fail) to fuck you properly while satoru jerks himself raw in the next room, biting your stolen panties between his teeth.
tonight, though, everything changes.
youâre in the living room yelling at your boyfriend over the phone, voice cracking with frustration. âyouâre seriously choosing your stupid game over me again? after i waited up for you?â the argument escalates fast â he calls you dramatic, you tell him to fuck off and hang up. the front door doesnât even slam because heâs not even here; heâs probably still glued to his controller somewhere else. youâre left standing there in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, tears of pure rage glittering in your eyes.
satoruâs leaning against the kitchen doorway the whole time, arms crossed over his broad chest, that signature blindfold pushed up into his messy white hair so those glowing blue eyes can drink you in. heâs only wearing low-slung grey sweatpants, the outline of his half-hard cock already obscene against the fabric. heâs been listening. of course he has. he always listens.
âdamn,â he drawls, voice low and lazy but dripping with something darker. âhe really left you this pissed off? what a fucking loser.â
you whip around, ready to snap at him too, but the way heâs looking at you stops the words dead. hungry. starving. like heâs been waiting for this exact moment for months.
âsatoru⊠not now,â you mutter, but your voice wavers. you know exactly how much of a perv he is. youâve caught him staring at your ass when you bend over, seen your panties mysteriously reappear in your drawer smelling faintly of his cologne and something thicker. youâve heard the low, guttural groans through the thin wall separating your rooms at 2 a.m. you know.
he pushes off the doorframe and stalks toward you, all six-foot-three of smug, toned menace. âcâmon. youâve been letting that useless prick fumble around in your pretty little cunt for how long now?â he stops right in front of you, towering, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body. one big hand comes up, thumb brushing your bottom lip. âbet heâs never even made you cum properly, has he? not like i could.â
your breath hitches. âyouâre such a fucking perv, toruââ
âyeah? and you love it.â his grin is sharp, feral. âi steal your panties every week just to wrap âem around my cock and fuck my fist thinking about this exact moment. iâve jerked off to the thought of replacing that sad excuse of a boyfriend so many times i lost count. wanted to be buried balls-deep in this pussy while he cried about it on the phone.â his other hand slides down, bold as hell, cupping your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. âlet me show you, baby. right now. let me fuck you the way you deserve â the way that little bitch never could.â
you should say no. you should push him away.
instead, your fingers curl into the waistband of his sweats and yank.
satoru doesnât waste a single second.
he lifts you like you weigh nothing, tosses you over his shoulder, and carries you straight to his room â the one that smells like him, like expensive cologne and pure sin. he drops you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he crawls over you, white hair falling into his eyes like a halo from hell.
âbeen dreaming about this cunt for months,â he growls, ripping your shorts and panties down in one rough tug. he spreads your thighs wide, staring like a man possessed at how wet you already are. âlook at her⊠already drooling for me. knew you were a slut for your perverted roommate.â
he doesnât even bother with foreplay â not the gentle kind. he shoves two long fingers inside you immediately, curling them hard against that spongy spot that makes your back arch clean off the bed. âf-fuckâ satoru!â
âthatâs right, scream my name. not his. never his again.â he pumps his fingers fast, nasty, wet squelching sounds filling the room as he scissors you open. his thumb circles your clit in tight, mean little strokes. âgonna stretch this pussy so good. gonna ruin you for anyone else. especially that limp-dick loser.â
youâre already shaking, thighs trembling around his wrist, when he suddenly pulls his fingers out and yanks his sweats down. his cock springs free â heavy, thick, leaking precum like a faucet. the head is flushed dark pink, slit glistening, veins pulsing angrily along the shaft. itâs bigger than you imagined, and youâve imagined it plenty.
âopen up, hottie,â he orders, fisting his length and tapping the fat head against your clit. âgonna fuck you so deep youâll feel me in your throat.â
he lines up and slams in with one brutal thrust.
you scream.
heâs so thick it burns in the best way, stretching you wide, the curved tip kissing your cervix instantly. satoruâs eyes roll back, a guttural âfuuuuckâ ripping out of his throat as your walls clamp down around him like a vice.
âso goddamn tightâ shit, sheâs sucking me in. greedy little cunt.â he doesnât give you time to adjust. he pulls back until just the tip remains, then snaps his hips forward again, burying himself to the hilt. the slap of skin on skin is loud, obscene. âtake it. take every fucking inch. this is what youâve been missing.â
he sets a punishing rhythm right away â hips snapping like a machine, balls smacking wetly against your ass with every thrust. the bed creaks violently. your tits bounce under your shirt until he rips that off too, latching onto one nipple with his teeth while he pounds you into the mattress.
ânghâ satoruâ too bigâ fuckâ!â youâre babbling, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across all that toned muscle.
âyeah? too big for your useless boyfriendâs tiny dick, but perfect for me.â he chuckles darkly against your skin, biting down harder. âlook at you. already creaming all over my cock and iâve barely started. gonna fill this womb up so good youâll be leaking me for days.â
he flips you suddenly, manhandling you onto all fours, ass up high. one huge hand presses between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the pillows just like toji did in that story you loved so much. he re-enters in a single savage thrust, even deeper from this angle.
âarch it, babyâ just like that. fuck, look at this ass bouncing for me.â he spanks you hard, the crack echoing. then again. and again. each slap leaves a pretty red handprint on your skin. âcâmon, hottie. entertain this dick. entertain me.â
youâre drooling into the sheets, tongue hanging out, eyes crossed from how deep heâs hitting. every brutal slam kisses your cervix, the fat head bullying that spongy spot inside you until youâre seeing stars. âgonnaâ gonna cumâ satoruâ!â
âyeah? cum then. cum all over your roommateâs cock like the desperate little whore you are.â he reaches around, fingers flying over your swollen clit. âlet me feel her milk me.â
you shatter â hard. your pussy spasms wildly around him, gushing slick down his heavy balls as you scream his name loud enough for the whole building to hear. satoru groans, hips stuttering, but he doesnât stop. he fucks you straight through it, drawing it out until youâre shaking and sobbing.
âgood girlâ good fucking girl. but weâre not done. not even close.â
he pulls out just long enough to flip you onto your back again, then hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half. the new angle has him even deeper, pressing right against your cervix with every thrust. his balls slap against your ass, the wet pap! pap! pap! growing louder, nastier.
âgonna breed this pussy,â he pants, white hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his sharp jaw. âgonna pump you so full youâll be swollen with my cum. bet your boyfriend never even got close to this spot, huh? pathetic.â
you can only moan brokenly, nails digging into his biceps as he rails you mercilessly. his cock throbs inside you, swelling even bigger, veins dragging against your sensitive walls.
âsatoruâ cumâ pleaseâ fill meâ!â
he snarls, hips snapping erratically now. âyeah? want my load? want me to stuff you like the cumdump you were always meant to be for me?â
you nod frantically, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming pleasure.
with a guttural groan that sounds more animal than human, satoru buries himself to the hilt and cums â hard. thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides, painting your walls white, so much it immediately starts leaking out around his cock. he grinds deep, making sure every drop stays inside, hips twitching as he empties himself completely.
âfuckâ take it all. every last drop. gonna keep you plugged up so none of it wastes.â he collapses on top of you, still buried deep, cock twitching with aftershocks. his lips brush your ear, voice hoarse and satisfied. âknew youâd be better than any fantasy. and weâre just getting started, hottie. gonna fuck you all night until you forget that loserâs name.â
he kisses your neck, then lower, sucking a dark hickey right above your collarbone like a claim.
âwelcome to your new favorite addiction, baby. me.â
TOJI FUSHIGURO
tojiâs been your roommate for three months, and you never once suspected the sick, greedy pervert he really was.
you stumble through the front door of the apartment in a daze, keys rattling in your shaking hand. your mind is still replaying the scene you walked in on twenty minutes ago â your boyfriend on all fours in his own bed, moaning like a whore while some other guy railed him from behind. the sounds, the sight, the way he looked back at that stranger with pure bliss on his face. he was gay. your boyfriend of eight months was fucking gay and you never had a clue. no tears came. just this numb, buzzing confusion that made your stomach twist and your thighs press together without meaning to.
the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the ac. you kick off your shoes, drop your bag, and head straight for your room. you need a shower. you need to forget. you needâ
the door to your bedroom is cracked open.
a low, guttural groan slips out from inside. heavy breathing. the wet, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.
your brows furrow. you push the door open.
tojiâs there.
shirtless, sweat-slicked muscles gleaming under the low lamp light, that ugly scar pulling at the corner of his mouth as he pants. his black sweatpants are shoved down just enough to free his massive cock â thick, veiny, flushed dark and angry, the fat head glistening with precum. one of your favorite lace panties is wrapped tight around his huge shaft, the crotch pressed right against his leaking slit while his fist pumps furiously. your panties drawer is yanked open, half your collection scattered across your bed like evidence.
he doesnât even notice you at first, too lost in it â hips bucking up into his hand, low grunts rumbling from deep in his chest. âfuckinâ smell so good⊠tight little cunt probably tastes even betterâŠâ
you stand there frozen, shock piling on top of shock.
tojiâs head snaps up. his green eyes blow wide for half a second before that lazy, dangerous smirk curls his lips. he doesnât stop stroking. if anything, his grip tightens, slow and deliberate now, letting you see every inch of that monstrous dick.
âshit⊠youâre home early.â
your voice comes out hoarse. âwhat the fuck, toji.â
he chuckles, low and rough, still lazily fucking your stolen panties. âwas in the middle of somethinâ. heard the door andâ well. guess the catâs outta the bag.â he lifts the lace to his face, inhales deep, then licks a slow stripe across the wet crotch. âmmm. still warm from you wearinâ âem yesterday. been jerkinâ my cock to these for weeks. every time you leave. every fuckinâ time.â
heat floods your face. confusion, anger, and something darker twist together low in your belly. you should scream. you should call the cops. instead you step inside and slam the door behind you.
âoh and i was about to clean up,â he lies smoothly, that scarred grin widening as he stands. his cock bobs heavily between his thick thighs, still wrapped in your ruined panties. sweatpants pooled at his ankles. heâs huge everywhere â broad shoulders, scarred abs, that obscene dick twitching like it has a heartbeat of its own. âbut since youâre hereâŠâ
you stare. âyouâre a fucking pervert.â
âyeah?â toji stalks forward, towering over you, cock brushing against your stomach through your clothes. the heat of it burns. âand youâre soaked just from seeinâ it. cute.â
your back hits the wall. âtojiââ
he doesnât let you finish. one massive hand clamps over your mouth, the other yanking your skirt up roughly. thick fingers shove your panties aside and plunge two straight into your cunt without warning.
ânghâ!â your muffled cry vibrates against his palm.
âfuck, sheâs tight,â he groans, pumping his fingers deep, curling them hard against that spongy spot that makes your knees buckle. âand drippinâ like a faucet. poor little thing. that useless gay boy never stretched this pussy right, did he?â he adds a third finger, scissoring you open brutally. wet, filthy squelching fills the room. âgonna fix that right now.â
"how the fuckângh! did you knew he was gay?!"
"oh, one time he tried to hit on me," he said simply.
"t-the hell?"
he rips his hand away from your mouth only to grab your hips and toss you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. your back bounces on the mattress, legs splayed. toji kicks his sweatpants off fully and crawls over you, cock dragging a thick trail of precum up your thigh.
âbeen dreaminâ about this cunt since you moved in,â he growls, shoving your legs wide apart. he yanks your top up, exposing your tits, and latches onto one nipple with his teeth while he lines up that fat, leaking head against your entrance. âgonna fuck you stupid. gonna ruin you for anyone else. especially that guy who couldnât even get it up for you.â
he slams in.
one brutal, merciless thrust and heâs buried to the hilt, balls-deep, stretching you so wide it burns deliciously. you scream, back arching clean off the bed.
âfuuuuckâ thatâs it. take it, princess. take every fuckinâ inch.â tojiâs voice drops into a nasty snarl as he bottoms out, grinding his pelvis against your clit. heâs huge â thicker than anything youâve ever taken, the curved head kissing your cervix instantly. âshit, sheâs suckinâ me in like she missed me. greedy little whore.â
he doesnât give you time to breathe. he pulls back until just the tip remains, then snaps his hips forward again, harder. the wet slap of skin on skin is obscene. he sets a punishing pace immediately â hips slamming like a machine, heavy balls smacking your ass with every thrust. pap! pap! pap!
âtojiâ too bigâ fuckâ!â youâre already drooling, eyes rolling back, fingers clawing at his scarred shoulders.
âyeah? too big for that pathetic excuse you called a boyfriend?â he laughs darkly, spanking your ass hard enough to sting. âlook at you. already creaminâ all over my cock and iâve barely started.â he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, folding you deeper, driving even further inside. the new angle has his fat tip bullying your cervix with every savage thrust.
he fucks you like an animal â raw, mean, relentless. sweat drips from his messy black hair onto your tits as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed creaks violently. your juices soak his heavy balls, dripping down to stain the sheets.
âmnghâ tojiâ!â you sob, pleasure crashing through you so hard your vision whites out.
âthatâs right. scream my name. not his. never his again.â he reaches down, thumb grinding rough circles on your swollen clit. âgonna make this pussy cum so many times you forget what his face even looks like.â
you shatter hard â pussy clamping down around his massive cock like a vice, gushing slick all over him as you wail. toji groans, hips stuttering, but he keeps fucking you straight through it, drawing it out until youâre shaking and twitching.
âgood fuckinâ girl.â he pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your stomach, and yanks your hips up high. âarch it. just like that. fuckâ look at this ass!â he spanks you again, twice, leaving red handprints, then shoves back in with a single brutal thrust.
from behind heâs even deeper. his cock curves perfectly, dragging against that sensitive spot with every punishing snap of his hips. he presses a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the pillows while he rails you mercilessly.
âcâmon, pretty thing. entertain this dick. entertain me.â his voice is gravelly, breath hot against your ear. he reaches around and gropes your bouncing tits, pinching your nipples hard. âbeen jerkinâ off in your bed for weeks thinkinâ about this. stealinâ your dirty panties, lickinâ the crotch while i cum. now i got the real thing. gonna fill this womb up until youâre leakinâ me for days.â
"w-what the hellâah!" youâre a mess â drooling into the sheets, tongue hanging out, ass rippling with every savage thrust. the sounds are filthy: wet squelching, skin slapping, his low grunts and your broken whimpers.
toji leans down, biting the back of your neck as his hips stutter. âgonna cum, princess. gonna pump you so full. take itâ fuckâ take every drop like the cumslut you are.â
he buries himself to the hilt with a guttural roar and explodes. thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides, painting your walls white, so much it immediately starts squirting out around his cock with every twitch. he grinds deep, making sure it stays plugged inside you, hips rolling lazily as he rides out the aftershocks.
âhaaaah⊠good girl. milked me dry.â he stays buried, heavy cock still twitching inside your overfilled cunt. one big hand slides down, thumb circling your clit again. âbut weâre not done. not even close. gonna fuck you all night until you canât walk straight. until the only name you remember is mine.â
he pulls out with a wet pop, cum gushing down your thighs. before you can catch your breath he flips you again, spreads your legs obscenely wide, and leans down to drag his tongue through the messy creampie leaking from your abused hole.
âmhmâ taste even better mixed with my cum,â he growls against your pussy, sucking greedily. âkeep that arch, baby. âm still fuckinâ starved.â
and then heâs hard again â monstrous cock slapping against your thigh, ready for round two.
toji grins, scarred lips glistening with your combined mess.
âso how about you dump that gay guy?"
CHOSO KAMO
chosoâs been your roommate for months, and youâve known exactly what kind of perverted little freak he is since the very first week.
youâve caught him staring at your ass when you walk around in tiny shorts. youâve heard the muffled, desperate groans through the wall at night â low, broken whimpers of your name while he fucks his fist. youâve found your panties mysteriously missing from the laundry, only to reappear days later, stiff with dried cum and smelling like him. it shouldâve disgusted you. instead it made your pussy throb every single time. your boyfriend was sweet, loving, perfect on paper⊠but he didnât make you drip like chosoâs pathetic obsession did.
tonight youâre both in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed while he talks quietly about some random curse technique shit. his voice is deep, calm, but his dark eyes keep flicking down to your thighs. heâs wearing a loose black tank that clings to his broad, muscular chest, tattoos snaking over his arms and shoulders. youâre teasing him on purpose â legs crossed, leaning back so your tits strain against your thin top.
then it happens.
a pair of your black lace panties slips from his pocket and flutters to the floor between you.
choso freezes. his face drains of color, then floods bright red. âf-fuckââ
you smirk, slow and wicked, picking them up with two fingers. the crotch is still damp. âwow, these are mine, choso. care to explain?â
he drops to his knees instantly, hands shaking as they rest on his thick thighs. âiâm sorryâ iâm so fucking sorry. i didnât mean for you to seeâ i just⊠i canât stop thinking about you. your smell. your body. please⊠iâll do anything.â
you tilt your head, heart pounding with dark excitement. âanything?â
âyes,â he breathes, voice cracking. the big, muscular man on his knees in front of you looks devastatingly submissive.
âcome here.â
choso doesnât hesitate. he crawls. on all fours like a trained dog, powerful shoulders rolling, dark hair falling into his face as he moves toward you. every flex of his back and arms makes your cunt clench. when he gets too close, you lift your bare foot and press it firmly against the top of his head, pushing his face down toward the floor.
âlower,â you command softly.
he obeys instantly, forehead pressing to the carpet, ass up slightly, trembling with need. a broken whimper slips from his throat.
you stand up slowly, peeling off your top first. your tits bounce free, nipples already hard. then your shorts and soaked panties slide down your legs. you kick them aside and sit back on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open right in front of his lowered face.
choso dares to lift his head just enough to look.
his jaw tightens so hard you hear his teeth click. his eyes â those pretty dark eyes â blow wide, pupils swallowing the color as he stares at your dripping pussy. âoh my godâŠâ he whispers, voice wrecked. âyouâre⊠youâre so fucking perfect. so wet. is that⊠because of me?â
you smirk and slide two fingers down your slick folds, spreading them so he can see everything. you circle your swollen clit slowly, letting out a soft moan just to torture him. chosoâs breathing turns ragged, chest heaving, the massive bulge in his sweats straining obscenely.
âstay back,â you warn when he instinctively leans forward.
he whines â actually whines â but stays on all fours, watching hungrily as you finger yourself. wet, lewd sounds fill the room while you pump two fingers in and out, scissoring them, showing him exactly how you like it. his cock twitches visibly in his pants, a wet spot growing at the front.
you keep going, building yourself up, moaning louder, until you fake a frustrated little huff.
âchoso~â you purr, voice dripping with need. âi need a hand⊠this isnât enough.â
he snaps.
choso surges forward like a man possessed, crawling the last inch and burying his face between your thighs. his tongue is desperate, sloppy, lapping at your cunt like heâs starving. long, thick muscle dragging through your folds, sucking on your clit, moaning shamelessly into your pussy. âthank youâ fuck, thank youâ you taste so good, so sweet, iâve dreamed about this every nightâ mmmphââ
you grab his hair and grind against his tongue, riding his face while he whimpers and sucks like the pathetic sub he is. his strong hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, but he never takes control â just serves.
after you cum hard on his tongue, shaking and soaking his chin, you push him back.
âpants off. now.â
choso yanks them down so fast he nearly falls over. his cock springs free â long, thick, painfully hard, the flushed head already drooling precum in thick strings. heâs huge, veiny, curved slightly upward, and twitching wildly. tattoos disappear under the dark happy trail leading to that gorgeous dick.
âpleaseâŠâ he begs, voice hoarse. âlet me fuck you. iâll be goodâ iâll be so good for you.â
you lie back and crook your finger. âcome here, cho.â
he climbs over you, muscular body trembling with restraint. the moment his fat cockhead nudges your slick entrance, choso lets out a broken, high-pitched moan â straight-up moaning like a bitch in heat.
âohhhâ fuckâ!â he pushes in slowly, inch by thick inch, eyes rolling back as your tight walls swallow him. âso warm⊠so fucking tightâ youâre squeezing meâ hahâ i canâtâ iâve wanted this for so longâ your pussy is perfect, made for meâ nghhh!â
the second he bottoms out, balls pressed against your ass, he loses it. his hips stutter, cock throbbing violently inside you as he fights not to cum instantly.
âdid you just cum?â you chuckled, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"n-noâfuck!âi mean y-yeah?"
choso starts fucking you like heâs praying â deep, desperate strokes, every thrust accompanied by filthy, worshipful praise. âyou feel so goodâ so wet and hot around my cockâ i donât deserve thisâ fuckâ your pussyâs sucking me in, milking meâ youâre so beautiful, taking me so wellâ ahâ ahâ!â
his muscular body hovers over yours, hips snapping harder, faster. the wet pap! pap! pap! of skin on skin mixes with his slutty moans and your own gasps. every time he bottoms out, his cock kisses your cervix, the curved head dragging perfectly against that spongy spot inside you.
âchosoâ harderââ
âyesâ yes, anythingâ iâll give you everything,â he pants, burying his face in your neck as he rails you. his heavy balls slap against your ass with every brutal thrust. sweat drips from his dark hair onto your tits. âiâve jerked off to you so many timesâ stole your panties and came all over themâ imagined this pussy creaming on my cockâ and itâs betterâ so much betterâ youâre ruining meâ hahâ!â
you flip him suddenly, straddling his waist. chosoâs eyes widen in awe as you sink back down on his cock, riding him hard. his big hands grip your hips, not guiding, just holding on while you use him.
âfuckâ ride meâ pleaseâ use my cockâ itâs yoursâ all yoursâ!â he moans like a whore, head thrown back, abs flexing with every roll of your hips. his cock twitches and swells inside you, veins pulsing against your walls.
you grind down, clit rubbing against his pelvis, and cum hard â pussy clamping around him like a vice, gushing slick all over his abs. chosoâs moan cracks into a whimpering sob.
âcummingâ youâre making me cumâ insideâ please let meâ i need to fill youâ been dreaming of breeding this perfect pussyâ pleaseâ!â
âcum for me, cho!â
he shatters.
with a loud, broken cry that sounds nothing like the quiet man you know, choso thrusts up wildly and explodes. thick, hot ropes of cum flood your insides, pulse after pulse, so much it leaks out around his cock immediately. his entire muscular body convulses under you, hips jerking, eyes crossed, tongue hanging out as he moans and babbles praises through his orgasm.
âthank youâ thank youâ filling you upâ so goodâ your pussyâs taking all of itâ i love youâ fuckâ iâm yoursâ iâm your good boyâ!â
even after he finishes, he keeps grinding up into you weakly, overstimulated and still rock hard, whimpering every time your walls flutter around him.
you lean down, kissing his sweaty forehead while he pants and trembles beneath you.
âgood boy, choso,â you whisper, clenching around his spent cock. âweâre just getting started.â
his eyes flutter, a dazed, blissed-out smile spreading across his face as fresh precum leaks into your cum-filled cunt.
âyes⊠please⊠use me moreâŠanytime.â
SUGURU GETO
geto suguru has been your roommate for four months, and on the surface heâs the perfect one â calm, polite, always cleaning up after himself, cooking meals that make your knees weak, and never once making things weird. his voice is smooth like velvet, that lazy half-smile always playing on his lips, long black hair tied in a neat bun that makes him look effortlessly handsome. you never noticed the way his dark eyes linger on your ass when you bend over to grab something from the fridge. you never caught the way he steals your used panties from the hamper, wraps them around his thick cock at night, and strokes himself slow and quiet until he paints them white with your name whispered like a prayer. heâs a pervert, through and through, but he hides it behind layers of nonchalant elegance so well you think heâs just a chill, slightly mysterious guy.
until tonight.
you come home frustrated, boyfriend canceling plans again for the third time this week, leaving you aching and needy. geto is on the couch, scrolling through his phone in loose grey sweatpants and a black tank top that shows off his toned arms and the faint lines of his tattoos. you drop onto the cushion beside him with a heavy sigh.
âsuguru⊠can you help me out?â you ask, voice small but direct. âiâm so fucking horny and my boyfriendâs useless tonight. i just⊠need to cum. no strings. please?â
he blinks once, slow and calm, then sets his phone aside like you asked him to pass the salt. âsure,â he says evenly, as if youâd asked him to help move furniture. âturn around, then.â
you donât expect the way he manhandles you â gentle but firm. he guides you onto all fours right there on the wide couch, your knees sinking into the cushions, ass arched high. he tugs your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, exposing your already dripping pussy to the cool air.
âlook at you,â he murmurs, voice low and steady, like heâs commenting on the weather. inside, his heart is hammering, cock throbbing painfully against his sweats at the sight of your glistening folds. finally. heâs imagined this exact view a thousand times while jerking off with your stolen panties. âalready soaked. been needing this bad, huh?â
you nod,hiding your flustered face. âno, you fuck! just fuck me, suguru.â
he doesnât rush. he frees his cock â long, thick, beautifully veined, the flushed head already leaking precum. itâs bigger than you expected, heavy and curved just right. he rubs the fat tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your slick, teasing your clit until you whine.
then he pushes in.
one long, deliberate stroke and he bottoms out, stretching your walls wide around his girth. a quiet âfuckâ slips from his lips â the only crack in his composure â but he recovers instantly, voice smooth again. âtight. feels good.â
you moan loud, fingers gripping the couch. heâs so deep already, the head of his cock kissing your cervix on the first thrust. geto starts moving â slow, deep rolls of his hips that make your ass ripple with every impact. the wet pap⊠pap⊠pap⊠of skin meeting skin fills the room as he gives you the best backshots of your life.
he fucks like he does everything else â controlled, precise, devastating. every thrust is angled perfectly, dragging along that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his big hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with measured strength. his abs flex under the tank top, sweat already starting to bead on his skin.
âthatâs it,â he says casually, voice steady even as his cock twitches wildly inside you. âtake it nice and deep. good girl.â
inside his head heâs losing it â so fucking tight, so wet, her pussyâs creaming all over me, better than i imagined, gonna ruin herâ
your phone rings.
the screen lights up with your boyfriendâs name. you freeze.
geto stops moving instantly, buried to the hilt, his heavy balls pressed against your clit. he doesnât pull out. he just stays there, throbbing, waiting with that same nonchalant expression.
âanswer it,â he says quietly, almost soothingly.
you hesitate, then swipe to accept, bringing the phone to your ear. âh-hey babeâŠâ
the second you start speaking, geto starts moving again â harder.
his hips snap forward with filthy precision, driving his thick cock deep into your cunt while you try to keep your voice normal. the wet slap of his pelvis against your ass grows louder, more obscene. heâs going crazy inside, eyes dark with lust, but his face remains calm, almost bored, like heâs just stretching after a long day.
âmmâ yeah, iâm⊠iâm fine,â you manage, biting your lip hard as he angles his hips and nails that perfect spot. a broken whimper tries to escape â you slap a hand over your mouth. getoâs cock drags against your walls on the pull-out, then slams back in so deep your eyes roll back.
âwhat was that?â your boyfriend asks on the line.
ân-nothingâ just⊠stubbed my toe, ahahâah!â you lie breathlessly. geto chuckles silently behind you, low and dark, then starts pounding you harder. his heavy balls smack rhythmically against your clit with every brutal thrust. your juices drip down your thighs, soaking the couch.
âsuguruâsâ ahâ really deepâ i mean, the conversationâs really deep tonight,â you stammer, voice cracking as he reaches around and rubs tight, mean circles on your swollen clit without missing a stroke. âweâre just⊠talking about⊠stuffââ
geto leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, voice a silky whisper only you can hear. âtell him how full you feel right now.â he punctuates the words with a particularly vicious thrust that makes your pussy flutter hard around him.
you choke on a moan, turning it into a cough. âyeahâ iâm listening, babe, keep goingâ mhmââ
inside, geto is feral. his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he rails you mercilessly from behind. his long hair has fallen loose from the bun, strands sticking to his sweat-slicked neck. every time you clench around him he has to bite back a groan, but outwardly he stays composed â breathing steady, expression neutral, like heâs not currently rearranging your guts while you talk to your boyfriend.
ây-yesâ fuckâ i mean, yes, iâm fine,â you whimper, eyes crossing as geto speeds up. the couch creaks violently under the force of his thrusts. his cock is so deep it feels like heâs in your stomach. âjust⊠tired. long day.â
getoâs hand slides up your back and pushes your chest down harder into the cushions, forcing your ass higher. the new angle has him slamming directly into your cervix with every snap of his hips. youâre drooling onto the fabric, biting the pillow to muffle the pornographic sounds trying to rip out of you.
âgood girl,â he mouths silently against your shoulder, then sinks his teeth in just enough to mark you. âkeep talking normal while i fuck this sloppy cunt.â
your walls clamp down hard around him. youâre so close it hurts.
âbabeâ i gotta goâ something came upâ ahâ talk later,â you gasp, barely managing to hang up before a broken moan tears from your throat. the second the call ends, geto drops all pretense of calm.
he fucks you like a man possessed â hips snapping brutally fast, the wet squelching of your creaming pussy echoing obscenely. one hand fists your hair, yanking your head back while the other spanks your ass hard, leaving red handprints on your skin.
âfinally,â he growls, voice dropping that nonchalant tone into something raw and hungry. âbeen dying to hear you scream on my cock. that bitch of a boyfriendâs never fucked you like this, has he? never made this pretty pussy gush like a whore.â
ânoâ fuckâ suguruâ!â you sob, pushing back to meet his thrusts, ass rippling with every savage impact.
âthatâs right. this cunt belongs to me now.â he reaches around again, rubbing your clit viciously. âcum for me, princess. let me feel you milk my cock while iâm buried so deep.â
you shatter â hard. your pussy spasms wildly around his thick length, gushing slick down his balls as you scream his name. geto groans, low and guttural, but he doesnât stop. he fucks you straight through your orgasm, drawing it out until youâre shaking and twitching.
only then does he bury himself to the hilt and cum â thick, hot ropes flooding your insides, so much it leaks out around his cock with every lazy grind of his hips.
âgood girl⊠taking all my cum like you were made for it,â he pants, still buried deep, voice regaining that lazy smoothness even as his cock twitches with aftershocks. he leans down, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your sweaty shoulder.
âweâre not done,â he murmurs calmly, pulling out just enough to watch his cum drip from your abused hole before sliding back in with a wet squelch. âiâve waited months to ruin you properly. tonight youâre going to learn exactly how well your perverted roommate can fuck.â
he starts moving again â slow, deep, devastating strokes once more, like the phone call never happened.
ânow arch that back again, hottness. let me give you round two. then three, then four, th-â
"chill out, you fuck!"
HIGURUMA HIROMI
higuruma hiromi had been your roommate for five months, and behind that tired-lawyer exterior â messy dark hair, perpetual stubble, sharp suit jackets thrown over the couch â he was a complete, unhinged pervert.
every time you left for class or work, he was in your room like a shadow. heâd pull open your panties drawer with reverent hands, pick out the pair youâd worn the day before, and wrap the still-warm crotch around his thick, heavy cock. heâd stroke himself slow and filthy, groaning low in his throat until he came hard â thick, creamy ropes of cum splattering all over the fabric. then heâd carefully lay them flat on your windowsill, letting them dry stiff with his seed before folding them neatly and slipping them back into your drawer. he got off on the thought of you unknowingly wearing his dried cum against your pretty pussy all day.
heâd cum untouched just from pressing his ear to the thin wall when he heard you masturbating at night â soft, frustrated little moans while you were on the phone with your useless boyfriend. the way your voice would crack when you tried to stay quiet always made his cock twitch and spill in his pants like a teenager.
and the bathroom⊠heâd figured out the lock weeks ago. a quiet click, a tiny gap in the door, and he could watch you strip, watch water cascade down your naked body, watch your hands glide over your tits and between your thighs while you showered. heâd stand there in the dark hallway, fist pumping his leaking cock until he painted the wall white.
you never suspected a thing.
until tonight.
youâre both in the living room after a long day, you curled up on the couch in tiny sleep shorts and a loose tank, him lounging in grey sweatpants and a black button-up thatâs half undone. the conversation drifts, and you suddenly blurt it out, half-joking, half-frustrated.
âhey, hiromi⊠your girlfriend â does she cum when you give her cunnilingus?â
he freezes mid-sip of his whiskey, dark eyes widening behind his glasses. the glass lowers slowly. âyeah⊠for sure,â he answers, voice a little rough, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
you sigh, shifting uncomfortably. âmine doesnât. my boyfriendâs tried so many times and iâve never once come on his tongue. itâs always just⊠okay. never enough.â
higuruma stares at you for a long second, throat working. then, shyly, almost hesitantly, he murmurs, âwant me to show you how you can explain it to him? properly?â
your heart stutters. heat floods between your legs. you bite your lip and nod.
âyeah⊠show me.â
he doesnât waste time. higuruma drops to his knees right there on the living room floor, big hands sliding up your thighs and spreading them wide. he hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, yanking your shorts and panties off in one smooth tug. his breath ghosts over your already slick pussy as he pushes his glasses up into his messy hair.
âpay attention,â he says quietly, voice low and instructional, even as his eyes are dark with hunger. âmost guys rush it. they go straight for the clit like itâs a button. you have to tease first.â
his tongue drags slowly up your slit â flat, warm, deliberate. a long, lazy stripe from your leaking hole to your swollen clit. you jerk, a soft whimper escaping.
âsee? start slow. taste her. savor her.â he licks again, slower, circling your entrance before dipping inside just enough to make your hips twitch. âsheâs already dripping⊠so sweet.â
you try to listen. you really do. but the moment his skilled tongue starts working, all thoughts evaporate.
higuruma eats pussy like a man whoâs been starving for it. his mouth is filthy and precise at the same time â sucking your folds between his lips, tongue fucking into your tight hole in deep, wet strokes, then dragging back up to swirl around your clit with perfect pressure. he moans into your cunt like itâs the best thing heâs ever tasted, the vibrations shooting straight through you.
âh-hiromiâ fuckâ!â
âshh. lesson one,â he murmurs against your pussy, voice muffled but steady, âwhen she starts getting loud, you donât stop. you double down.â
he seals his lips around your clit and sucks â hard â while two long fingers slide into you, curling instantly against that spongy spot. your back arches clean off the couch, a broken cry ripping from your throat.
first orgasm hits you like a freight train.
your thighs clamp around his head, hips grinding desperately against his face as you gush on his tongue. higuruma groans loudly, drinking every drop, fingers pumping steadily through your spasms. he doesnât pull away. he keeps sucking, keeps licking, keeps praising.
âgood girl⊠thatâs it. first one. see how fast she came when you actually know what youâre doing?â
youâre shaking, panting, but he doesnât stop.
âlesson two â she gets sensitive after the first. you use that.â his tongue goes softer, flatter, lapping at your overstimulated clit in gentle, relentless strokes while his fingers scissor you open. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth devouring you fill the room.
second orgasm crashes over you even harder. your eyes roll back, toes curling, a sob tearing from your chest as you squirt â actually squirt â a clear gush soaking his chin and the couch beneath you. higuruma moans like heâs the one cumming, eagerly licking up every drop, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive folds.
âfuckâ hiromiâ too muchâ!â
âthird oneâs the best,â he growls, voice losing that instructional tone, turning rough and hungry. âlet me show you.â
he buries his face completely, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue fucks into you deep and fast. three fingers stretch you now, curling ruthlessly, his other hand gripping your ass hard enough to bruise as he holds you down. heâs moaning continuously into your pussy, lost in it, devouring you like a man possessed.
you cum a third time â screaming his name, thighs trembling violently around his head, vision whiting out as pleasure borders on pain. your whole body convulses, fresh squirt spraying across his tongue as he drinks you down greedily.
higuruma finally pulls back, lips and chin glistening with your cum, glasses slightly fogged. he looks wrecked â pupils blown, hair messy, breathing ragged. his cock is straining obscenely against his sweatpants, a huge wet spot already soaking through.
âdid you⊠learn anything?â he asks, voice hoarse, a shy little smirk tugging at his lips even as his eyes scream pure lust.
you can barely speak. your pussy is still twitching, thighs soaked, chest heaving.
âiâ i couldnât even listen, asshole,â you whimper, reaching down to grab his hair. âagain⊠please, hiromi. i need your tongue again.â
he chuckles lowly, that tired, perverted lawyer completely gone, replaced by the freak whoâs been fantasizing about this for months.
âgood. because iâm nowhere near done with this pretty pussy.â
he dives back in without hesitation, tongue and fingers working you over again, drawing out even more desperate moans and orgasms until youâre a sobbing, squirting mess on his face â exactly where heâs always wanted you.
and somewhere in the back of his perverted mind, heâs already thinking about how many more pairs of your panties heâs going to ruin after this.
It started with waking up late, spilling his coffee all over the counter, and ended with tripping while walking up the stairs to the apartment.
His sigh is heavy when he finally passes the threshold of the door.
You are not home. You are not home, and you were possibly the only person he wanted to see.
He suddenly remembers the conversation you two had this morning.
âI wonât be home till late, donât wait up.â
Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth.
His briefcase falls to the floor, and his coat follows. He doesnât care enough to put them in their assigned places.
When he collapses on the couch, the relief he feels is close to heavenly, but it isnât enough to clear his sour mood.
He knows what he needs; itâs been in the back of his mind since some client at his internship flirted with him, but itâs quickly heading for the front.
His hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
Itâs muscle memory: the way he types in his passcode, opens the app with the blue icon, and switches from his professional account to the one he made with a burner email, the username a key slam.
His pupils dilate as the first few posts come into view.
There was a shit ton of explicit stuff immediately, stuff that usually got the job done for him. A video of a guy holding up a camera to his girlfriendâs face while he fucks her from behind. But he isnât in the mood for that.
Heâs in the mood for a specific genre of pictures. Pictures of women with a certain skin tone, color of hair, and body shape. Pictures of women he could imagine are you.
It was outright wrong of him. You were his roommate, not his girlfriend, not even his friend with benefits. But he could never stop himself from indulging.
He unbuttons his slacks with one hand while he scrolls with another, staying for a few seconds on pictures that show potential, liking them, but moving on.
He scrolls past something that makes him backtrack.
A picture of a woman lying down in bed on her side in a pretty set of underwear, not anything fancy or extravagant. Her body is gorgeous, but itâs not what makes him backtrack.
What makes him backtrack is the heart-shaped birthmark on her upper thigh.
He recognizes it.
A while ago, the two of you went out for drinks. It was the day before your birthday, and you were within your rights to overindulge, so you did. It ended with you throwing up all over your clothes and all over the cab on the way home.
Higuruma had to strip you down to your underwear and throw the clothes in the wash himself because you were too drunk to do so.
He had looked because he couldnât help himself, and he saw it. The birthmark. It burned into his mind.
And heâs seeing it right in front of his face again. Â
His hand stalls from where he was plaming himself through his underwear.
He opens the page slowly and begins to scroll, reading every post and connecting all the dots in his head.
The day you two went out for drinks, and he saw the birthmark, the account had tweeted requesting someone to send money for drinks. A few weeks ago, when you got your nails done, the account replied to another saying thank you for nail money.
He moves onto the images page and recognizes your bedroom immediately.
He recognizes your body shape and the length of your hair, too.
You had a secret twitter account, and he found it.
Itâs worse than when he pretends the other women in the pictures are you; itâs so much worse. He should close the app and go take a cold shower, but he canât bring himself to.
His cock hardens as he scrolls through the account, his mind taking care to memorize every picture and every detail you share about your intimate life.
Thereâs a post about you touching yourself in front of a mirror that sends him over the edge.
He pulls his cock out of his underwear and begins to stroke himself, slowly and deliberately, head lolling to the side as he continues to scroll.
Thereâs a picture of you in a big t-shirt and lacy underwear that makes him freeze because he realizes the t-shirt is his. One you stole not too long ago on your laundry day when you had nothing else to wear. One you never gave back.
He almost cums then and there, but he stops mid stroke, holding his cock, beginning to try to take slow and even breaths to draw out his pleasure.
He gets in the pattern of it: stroking until heâs almost there and edging himself.
When he finally lets himself go, itâs to a picture of you on the very couch heâs sitting on, stripped down to cotton panties and a bra. Itâs intense, more intense than when heâs slept with certain women, and he knows itâs because of you.
His breaths are erratic, and his cum is all over his hands and slacks.
He drops the phone and moves his free arm to cover his eyes, the other still on his cock, stroking himself to overstimulation.
A whimper leaves his mouth as his mind brings up made-up images, more explicit ones than the ones he was staring at moments before.
When he finally stops, he feels a buzz throughout his body and his heartbeat in his legs.
He stuffs himself back in his underwear and sits for a moment, picking the phone back up and scrolling through the account more, all the way until he finds the beginning of it.
The first post is sweet, a polite introduction, which makes a smile graze his face.
He refreshes the page and sees a post made a few minutes prior.
On my break, anyone wanna send me money for a snack? (;
He goes through the motions of anonymously wiring you 50 bucks through the linked website without even hesitating or really thinking about it at all.
After, He turns off his phone and wonders how heâll face you when you come home knowing what he knows and did.
a/n: it falls flat towards the end but WHATEVER!! here!! have it!!!!!!!
neighbour higuruma loves to watch you masturbate through your bedroom window.
the first time was an accident. higuruma had just arrived home after a long day of work, shoulders heavy and eyes barely holding themselves open. a flash of light had caught his attentionâyou, his neighbour, light bracketing you as you pass your window in nothing but a small, lacy bra. his attention caught like a fly to honey, heâd found himself a slave to his own desires as he laid witness to your nightly routine. heâd watched you pull yourself apart, and wished it was his hands putting you back together.
it quickly becomes the small pleasure that lights up his day. he feels disgusting every timeâhe knows he should tell you, knows that he should stop looking. itâs invasive in a way that makes him sick to think of others doing the same to him. youâd hate him if you knew.
he watches anyway. it rapidly integrates itself into his nightly routine. he works until the sun has dipped below the horizon. he returns home with an unending ache in his back, a throbbing pain in his fingers, an iron weight around his heart. then he sheds his coat, runs a hand through his hair, and settles down on the armchair in his living room and watches as your bedroom light highlights your silhouette.
you always look so beautiful like that. you prance around your apartment in your underwear, lit up by the warm lights you always keep on. every time you retreat to your bedroom, he feels like itâs a show just for him. you grab a toyâthis time a vibratorâand look down at it for just long enough for him to get a glimpse. when you lie down on your bed, arching your back and stretching indecently, he knocks his knees slightly wider.
youâre beautiful. you always take it so slow to start, tracing meaningless patterns around your breasts, your thighs, streaks of sensation beneath feather-light fingertips. he palms over himself idly, watching with heavy breaths. by the time you dip between your folds, fingers sliding easily, heâs hard enough to carve stone from the wait. you really know how to tease. he frees his cock from his pants as you spread your thighs wider, tracing slowly around your clit. he rubs his thumb over his cock as you arch on a gasp, fingers pressing with more pressure. when you finally bring your vibrator to your core, rubbing it where youâre sensitive, he strokes himself at a pace as steady as it is passionate; a physical means of getting off on the internal high of watching you fall apart. he comes with your name on his lips, a broken groan that tears itself from his chest.
when itâs done, he cleans himself up and watches you disappear into the shower, wishing you a quiet, guilty good night. the sickening clarity after the act almost outweighs the high of watching it. still, come the weekend, heâs out on his balcony talking to you from yours; you giggle at a joke he makes, invite him to come over, and he feigns unfamiliarity like he hasnât memorised the layout of your apartment from his nights perving through your window. when he returns home, it doesnât take long for you to pull out a dildoâit doesnât take much longer for him to notice.
(one night, youâre going to catch him looking and come harder than you have in months. heâll be so sick with guilt he avoids you for weeks. yet, every night youâll keep masturbating with your curtains open and your lights on, hoping with a blooming perversion. every night, heâll find himself watching.)
CONTENT WARNING. MDNI, fem! reader, law student! reader, lawyer higuruma, 6.9k words, age gap (24&36), fluff & smut, slow burn? game of thrones references, porn with plot, unprotected sex, office sex, rough? sex, sloppy makeouts, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, higuruma is an EATER, spit, praise, choking, pussy spanking, dirty talk, belly bulge, big dick higuruma, he loves eye contact, dacryphilia? heâs mean & cocky if you squint. enjoy!
your pen sits between your teeth as your eyes switch from the thick textbook splayed open on your kitchen island and your laptop screen.
the cursor blinks for the millionth time in your setup word document. countless words plastered in that irritating format of times new roman size twelve that youâve done a thousand times over.
words mutter under your breath as you multitask in reading, taking notes, and applying the newfound information to your assignment.
âhey, is your prof still asking you guys to take internships?â
your roommate comes from hibernating out of her room, eyes glued to her phone as she saunters over to the kitchen.
you barely catch the words that fly out her mouth, brows furrowing as you look up from your work for the first time in hours. the swivel stool you sat on creaks as you sit up straighter, cringing from how long you held that crouching position.
âuhâŠ. no.â you shake your head, confused as to why she brought it up. she was never the type to dwell on your life as a law student unless overhearing about a case study that seemed âtoo juicyâ to skip out on. âdeadlineâs like, next week so theyâre just talking about the paper due the week after to describe our experience so far.â
âoh.â she says, sounding surprised. âwell, did you find anything?â
you hum. âiâve got an interview tomorrow. itâs multi-hire so iâve got a good chance. why?â
ânothing really.â she shrugs, taking a breath as she scavenges the freezer, grabbing the first pint of ice cream she sees. âa friend of my cousin works at this law firm and i think she said theyâre looking for a temp since sheâs going out of the country for a while.â
you nod, chewing on the end of your pen. âsend me their info. iâll check it out.â
so thatâs exactly what you do. your roommate helps you exchange information with this friend who youâve learned to be is a young woman named shimizu. she worked as a assistant for an independent defense attorney, higuruma hiromi.
youâve heard his name a few times from news outlets, primarily known to take on difficult cases but nonetheless highly skilled and quite honestly a prime example of what you hoped to become as far as talent.
shimizu was going overseas for a little over half a year. thatâs entirely way more than what your assignment calls for but you would be paid well plus it could serve as the perfect job to strengthen your experience in law.
it didnât take much for shimizu to hire you, her eagerness to hurry up and leave was clear. she sent you an email describing her normal routine, things to keep an eye on that higuruma normally forgets and a warning to just be patient for any cases he picks up.
naturally, you were nervous. palms sweating as you clutched your purse and tucked the folder shimizu provided tightly between your arm.
your heels clack with each step you make up into the building then finally, in bold letters, âhiguruma law officeâ. you knock, looking around as you wait for a response.
âcome in.â
the voice is so deep it sends chills down your spine. anxiety pools your chest as you twist the handle, making slow hesitant steps into the office.
itâs small but not cramping and fairly neat. you continue forward, making your presence known. who you assume to be higuruma sits at a chair, pen scribbling against a paper at an incredible speed.
he doesnât look up at first, deeply sighing and too focused on the work in front of him. that is until he takes notice of your silence following your entry. his eyes immediately lift, dragging over your attire for a momentary second. âiâm sorry.â he clears his throat, standing then approaching you with his hand out. âhow can i help you?â
âi⊠uhm⊠iâm y/n.â you meet his hand with a nervous smile. âiâm filling in for shimizu?â itâs embarrassing how unsure you sound as if you hadnât met shimizu yourself telling you detail for detail about the duties of the job.
his brows furrow slightly as he slowly slips his hand from your weak grip. he checks his watch then runs his fingers through his hair. âright, right. i forgot about thatâŠâ he sighs, moreso to himself and then nods, pointing to the empty cubicle beside his. âtake a seat, did shimizu already inform you on what weâre currently working on?â
you nod, carefully setting your belongings down and making yourself comfortable on the chair.
âcould i see? if you donât mind.â he stands over you, watching as you turn the monitor on with quickness and log in to your email account, surfing through the important ones you had starred before finally landing on shimizuâs.
higuruma leans over, his presence immediately makes you feel small and you can slightly feel the weight of his chest as he gently grabs the mouse from your hand.
you keep your eyes on the screen, fiddling with your fingers while he looks at the lengthy details relayed. suddenly, he takes a breath then clicks forward and slides the keyboard over.
âlooks good.â he finally stands, eyes dropping down to you. âweâll just be working on that for today. if anything changes iâll let you know.â
for the first three weeks of working for higuruma goes the same way. coming into the office, saying hello, and him sharing any updates on the current case. some days call for extremely long hours, others are your typical. then there were days like today where youâd be traveling together and have to stay overnight at hotels.
one room, separate beds.you and higuruma hadnât crossed that bridge of being comfortable with one another just yet. it was still awkward smiles and brief exchanges of conversation only in relation to work.
with the work day being over, you showered and decided to walk around the hotel for a bit, maybe grab a bite to eat. you also brought your textbooks and laptop so you could use the time to study for the baby bar you have coming up.
you sat at a table, eating as you focus on your studies. no more than half an hour passes when a figure approaches your table.
âmind if i sit?â
your eyes lift at the deep voice, widening for a short second as you realize it to be higurumaâs. he stands there in a plain black t-shirt and same colored plaid pajama pants with a plate of food in his hand.
it was different to see him in a more cosy state rather than being suited up. when you focus on the fact heâs still there, tilting his head as he waits on your response you sit up and nod a bit frantically.
âyesâyes, of course. please sit.â you gesture to the seat ahead of you which he takes.
itâs silent for a moment as youâre more frigid now, eyes glued to your book without reading a damn thing. higuruma pops a fry into his mouth, looking around the semi-packed dining area before returning his attention to you. âyouâre still in school?â
you nod, âin my first year.â
he raises a subtle brow at that which you donât even notice considering youâve found it difficult to always make eye contact with him.
âfirst year?â he hums, chewing down on another fry. âyouâre young.â
âi guessâŠâ you laugh shyly. âitâs not like youâre old.â
he smiles at that, leaning in with his elbows on the table as he continues to take singular bites of his food. âyou donât think so? how old do you think i am?â
you shrug, finally lifting your eyes to scan the features of his face.
he was obviously older than you but you only deduced that from the way he talks and conducts himself yet he didnât share any facial features that gave away his age.
âthirty?â you squint, not wanting to guess too high and he gets offended.
he chuckles, shaking his head. âno, but iâm honored you thought that low. iâm thirty six.â
âstill young.â you smile, dropping your eyes back down.
âso whatâre you learning?â he sighs, leaning back again, spreading his long legs to be more comfortable and points at your books.
ânothing really.â you mumble. âjust studying for the baby bar.â
âwowâŠâ he nods partially in shock, suddenly thinking of the age gap between you. itâs been so long since his days of staying up all day and all night long when preparing for that exam. âyou think youâve got it? i could help you out.â
you definitely donât got it. there were still at least another two months before youâd have to take the exam. all the current information you were learning was still processing and quite honestly you had a habit of doubting your skills and werenât sure if youâd be able to get the score youâre aiming to achieve.
you shake your head at higurumaâs offer. âno, itâs okay. you already have so much going on. i rather not add to that.â
âiâm offering.â he smiles warmly, wanting to assure that it wasnât a big deal as he crosses his arms lazily across his chest.
itâs only for second that you ogle the surprising size of his bicep when itâs contracted. you shake your head again. âiâll be fine. thank you though. i appreciate it.â
higuruma hums not pushing any further on the subject. âdo you drink?â he asks after swallowing down a bite of his burger.
âsometimes.â you shrug, clicking through your documents of notes that you were hardly paying attention to with higuruma making small conversation.
âwould you like to drink now?â
the second time you look at him you see the teasing look in his own as if heâs urging you to loosen up for the night. heâs clearly in the mood to get to know you. perhaps one night of a few drinks wouldnât be so bad.
âi supposeâŠâ you sport a bashful smile, clicking out of your tabs and shutting down your laptop. you set it aside with your textbooks as higuruma orders your first round of drinks.
it starts off timid as if heâs testing the waters with some cocktails then began to try a little of everything. tropical drinks, shots, beer, and wine. of course you limited yourself to one of eachâ aside from the shots due to the fact you had a busy day tomorrow but it was surely enough to get you a bit passed tipsy.
higuruma proved to be holding his liquor better than you, smiling fondly as you babble on about the targaryen family line. at first he was curious about a video you were laughing at from tiktok and had to explain it was from game of thrones. you then learned he never watched the show and thought heâd find major interest in it.
you would yap about the politics, power, family, loyalty, and corruption. though once you got to the targaryens, higuruma had to pause at the mention of inbreeding.
âso whatâs the difference between velaryonsâs and targaryenâs?â
âvelaryon and targaryen are house names.â you giggle, toying with your straw. âfamily lines. being valyrian is like, their racial background.â
âinterestingâŠâ he nods, sipping on his rum & coke. âand whatâs the relationship between uh⊠daenerys? and jon?â
âi really shouldnât be telling you this.â you laugh. âdonât you want to watch it now?â
ââŠi guess youâre right.â he grins, followed by a sigh as he stretches his arms over his head. âshould we watch it tonight?â
you check the time on your phone, it was late. nearing midnight. it was tempting to indulge in a late night watch of one of your favorite shows but youâd probably regret it by the morning.
you bite down on your bottom lip, hiding the smile that wants to show. âitâs lateâŠâ you sigh out. âwe probably shouldnât.â
âthen letâs start now.â he urges, opening his wallet and dropping a few dollars to cover the tab and allow the server to end their night with a more than generous tip. âcâmon.â he gestures his head, holding his hand out to you.
even with being a little drunk, you still felt shy coming in such close contact with higuruma. as you lifted your hand to connect with his, he guided you through the hotel and it grew quieter upon reaching the elevators.
heâs still holding your hand, waiting for them to open. you attempt to ignore the way his thumb gently brushes against your skin rhythmically and how this must look to bystanders. the thought is cut short when the doors finally split open and higuruma lets go of your hand to palm your lower back.
higuruma follows you in, pressing the floor number. you stand side by side, him humming a soft tune whilst you stare down at your feet to avoid meeting his stare that you could feel burning into you.
it was like a breath of fresh air upon reaching your floor and seeing the doors open. higuruma places his hand to your back again, guiding you down the quiet hall before reaching your room.
he presses the keycard to the sensor, following you in. you take slow steps inside, dropping your laptop and textbook onto your bed.
âwhatâs it on?â he huffs, turning on the tv.
you make yourself comfortable under the sheets, sighing in relief from the cold. âhbo.â
he surfs for a few seconds before shaking his head. âi donât think this tv has that.â
âohâŠâ you frown then look at your laptop. âi mean, we could watch it on my laptop?â
he turns, thinking on what that means.
you both knew that meant laying down on the same bed, next to each other. he rubs his chin in thought. âonly if youâre okay with it.â
your body grows hot but you nod slowly, scooting over to make space for him. he eyes the empty space for a few seconds, making hesitant steps forward. âare you sure? we could always watch it another time.â
ââŠitâs okay.â you spoke softly. âi want to watch it with you.â
he smiles at that, proceeding to lift up the covers and tuck himself under the covers beside you. the immediate warmth of his skin brushes yours and the two of you look at each other the moment heâs settled.
his eye contact is so intense and⊠unsettling almost that it has chills run down your spine. you want to look away but higuruma speaks up before you can.
âyouâre really shy for a future lawyer.â
your brows furrow at his statement. âmânot.â
âyou are.â he chuckles, eyes low as he can feel the crash from all the drinks overtake him.
âi think itâs just you.â you boldly argue.
he raises a brow. âyeah? what about me makes you so shy?â
you open your mouth but nothing can follow through especially with him so close you can feel your stomach churn when you catch yourself looking at his lips. âjust⊠shut up.â you huff, grabbing for your laptop.
higuruma laughs, watching you log into hbo, searching for game of thrones. he steps out of the bed momentarily to turn off the lights before you can press start.
you settle the laptop atop both your legs, sighing as you press play on the first episode.
within the first thirty minutes, you fall asleep, your head rested against higurumaâs shoulder. he stayed up through three episodes, thoroughly enjoying the cause of events but forced himself to go to sleep or else heâd be having a rough day.
by the time the morning comes and your alarm goes off, you groan softly, eyes struggling to flutter open. you aimlessly search for your phone, shutting off the annoying sound before laying back down but then you feel a touch of skin.
you fully open your eyes, face twisting in fear at the sight of higuruma in your bed sound asleep. you werenât that drunk where you didnât remember wanting to watch game of thrones together but you werenât sure why he stayed on your bed through the rest of the night.
you poked him, the action immediately waking him up. he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering open. he turns his head to face you. âgood morning.â
ââŠmorning.â you mumble, all the slight confidence you gained last night completely gone. though you did feel a certain comfortability now around him.
âsleep okay?â he husks out, lifting himself from the bed.
you nod, nervously twisting the sheets.
he checks the time. it was still early and you wouldnât be meeting with your client until the afternoon. âdo you want breakfast?â
âsure.â
âanything in particular?â he grabs his keys from the nightstand, swinging them around his pointer finger.
âyour choice.â you shrug.
he hums. âgo shower. get dressed. iâll be back.â
you do as he says, showering, getting dressed, then eat breakfast with him once he gets back.
the day follows on as planned, you meet with the client, discuss the case, write down details, aim to search for more evidence and layout options.
for the next few weeks, you spent long hours traveling with higuruma to collect more evidence in support of your case. for a time you were able to juggle all the work but the stress of your bar exam coming up was starting to take a toll.
you wanted more time to study but you also had to sacrifice a lot of time to help higuruma. so you start to force yourself to stay up most nights, hardly getting any sleep, caffeine intake drastically rising.
it not only began to present itself through your physical presence but with the way you interacted with higuruma. at first he could understand having been in your position of working between school, studying, and work but as the weeks passed he noticed your decline was starting to affect your work performance.
heâd allow for a few things to slide but not at the risk of a client's future behind bars. so when he asks you a question and you remain too zoned out to answer, heâll sigh.
ây/n.â
âhm?â youâll hum, pen twisting between your teeth, completely focused on the textbook laid out.
âlook at me.â he commands, tone still gentle as he waits for your eyes to meet his. higuruma was completely aware of your inability to do so but he couldnât care at the moment. so when you only lift them for a second as if to show you were listening then drop them back to your computer screen he shakes his head with a sigh.
you donât even notice him stand then come around to palm your chair until he shuts your laptop closed and snatches the pen from your hand. he ignores your surprised reaction. âis this becoming too much for you?â
you frown, opening your mouth to say something but you canât follow through. instead you shake your head.
he spins you in your seat, forcing you to face him. âcan you look at me when iâm speaking to you, please?â
âhiguruma, iâm sorryââ you start with a small pout, not listening to what he asked.
âyou donât need to apologize. just look at me.â
itâs silent for a few seconds and you finally flicker your eyes up to look at him. a hand rests on the chair, the other on your desk completely caging you in. you can smell the strong but warm scent of his cologne that radiates off his skin and clothes.
âis this too much for you?â he asks again. âi can give you a break.â
ân-no.â you deny his inquisition. âthe work is fine. itâs just⊠the studying. iâve got my exam coming up really soon, iâm sorry.â
âitâs fine.â he assures, âlook, on the weekends and on our breaks, iâll help you study. itâs not nice seeing you like this, okay?â
you nod and he stands at his full height, comfortably squeezing your shoulder then patting your head. âtake a nap. you look like you need it.â
there was about one more month left until youâd have to take the exam and higuruma keeps through on his promise and dedicates any moment of extra time he has to help you study.
his methods actually allowed you to gain more sleep, balance work more appropriately, and retain the information easier. you genuinely felt like you were learning. you even complimented higuruma on his skills of teaching, claiming that heâd make a great professor.
this continues throughout the month until it was time for the actual day. he helped you study in the morning for a bit, not too much as he didnât want to override your brain. he got you breakfast and decided to drop you off at the testing site.
âiâll be right here, okay?â
you nod, looking at him with a solemn smile. you hesitate at first but overwhelmed by your emotions you reach over the console to give him a hug. âthank youâŠâ
he lets out a breath that sounds close to a laugh, hands coming around to circle your body. his palm rubs up and down your back in a comforting motion. âyouâve got this.â he whispers. âgood luck.â
you head into the building, gone for a total of three and a half hours. he fell asleep in the car for about an hour until he hears three rampant knocks to the passenger window.
he sees your figure standing there with other individuals following out the building. immediately, he unlocks the door, watching you hop into the car without a word.
âhow do you think you did?â he sighs, turning the ignition of the car.
you can only shrug, anxiety riddled through your body. passing was the only option for you. you opted out in taking it the first month the exam is taken so youâd have more time to study. this was your last chance or else you wouldnât be able to advance in your studies.
higuruma takes in your worrisome expression, reaching his hand out to gently squeeze your shoulder. âshould we go out for some drinks?â
you let out a small laugh, looking at him and nodding.
the two of you settle for some small bar, doing the same as before. indulging in every kind of drink but still keeping limitations. eventually, higuruma suggested to watching game of thrones and you in your slightly drunk state of mind couldnât deny.
you end up at his home because you were too scared of what your roommate might say if you brought higuruma home. you step into the threshold, eyes wide as you stare around in awe.
âwhy is it so empty?â you giggle, noticing the lack of⊠anything.
it was as if he simply bought the house and disregarded buying any furniture, dishes, and utensils. does he even live here? was your initial thought as you scavenged through his pantry, cabinets, and refrigerator only to find nothing that could saturate your hunger.
âi spend most of my time at the office.â he huffs, tugging off his suit jacket and tossing it on his sofa. âi mainly come back here to shower and change clothes.â
you hum, clutching your purse as you continue to look around, dragging your fingers along surfaces.
thatâs sort of become your lifestyle too now. youâve no doubt seen higuruma more than your own roommateâ which supported why you definitely couldnât bring him over without warning.
he steps towards you, pointing to your purse and jacket. âwould you like to shower?â
âthatâd be niceâŠâ you nod, handing him your belongings to toss with his jacket.
he grabs an extra towel he luckily had and his pajamas for you to wear since you didnât have any clothes of your own. âi plan to order some food, do you want anything in particular?â
âdealerâs choice.â you smile at him. he nods, leaving you to shower as he picks on what to eat. you shower for about half an hour as you spent half of that time snooping around his restroom for any indication of a woman being here.
it was surely none of your business but you couldnât help but find yourself intrigued by higuruma. naturally, amongst the things you wondered about was if he shared a life with someone. though it shouldâve been obvious with the way he never spends his time at home and the simple fact of you being here.
you dried yourself off, putting on his clothes and unsure of where to put the used towel, you walk into his bedroom searching for a hamper. though you find yourself eager to just look around. there wasnât much to find except for the basics.
you open his closet and find a wide range of suits all in black and white along with his pajamas that were the same color. he also had a distinct collection of watches and cologne.
you end up spraying the different fragrances into the air, adoring the mixture of them being woody, earthy, and citrusy. you take one, spraying it onto yourself.
âhaving fun?â
you turn fast on your feet, startled by his voice. he sports a teasing smile and you canât help but feel your body grow hot in embarrassment. âum⊠sorryâŠâ you laugh nervously, placing the cap back on to the cologne and settling it back in its original spot.
he shakes his head, fond of how you looked, âitâs alright. i ordered chinese.â he then hands you the remote to the tv and his phone for you to track the food. âlog in to hbo. iâll go take a quick shower.â
you nod, heading back out and taking a seat on his sofa. you log into hbo and as you waited, you ended up using his phone to scroll through tiktok. you definitely couldâve used your own but it felt more fun to use his considering the fact he didnât even have the app in the first place.
the food arrived and within ten minutes after higuruma was done with his shower, fully dressed. he was wearing the same thing as you with the exception of his clothes looking larger on your frame.
he takes a seat beside you, spreading out the arrangement of food he bought on the mini table he had. you press play on the show and hour after hour you felt happier, completely forgetting that you even had an exam today. forgetting that you spent months worrying about this very day all thanks to higuruma.
you always grew a certain amount of courage after drinking so it went without a thought for you to sigh after feeling full then lean sideways to rest your head on his shoulder.
âthank you for today.â you mumble, eyes glued to the screen.
higurumaâs sprawled back, legs spread until you lean against him.
he doesnât want to think too hard about the current proximity, simply enjoying the moment as he throws an arm around you so youâd feel more comfortable snuggling up to him.
âyou deserved it.â he squeezes you gently and you donât say anything in response, just cozying up to him some more.
from that day, you and higuruma grew closer than ever and you began to notice that you often thought about him, smiled at him more, opened up, and gained the courage to look at him longer.
with every compliment, touch, and night that you spent at his house watching game of thrones whilst eating food, there was no denying that you shared particular feelings for him.
and as the weeks past, you began to wonder what you should do with these feelings until the time came where the scores for the bar exam were out. the two of you were sat in the office per usual, and you received an email notification describing that the scores for the exam were out and where to check them.
you swallowed thickly, logging in to your admissions portal.
âdid you ever get a copy of the prosecution's discovery?â higuruma asks, mindlessly flipping through a file.
his question is followed by silence and heâll lift his head. ây/n?â
upon the continuous silence, higuruma rolls on his chair, peeking his head over to your cubicle to see you hiding your face and your shoulders shaking. concerned at the sight, he stands, and approaches you to palm your shoulder and thatâs when he begins to understand that youâre crying when a fragile sob falls past your lips.
his heart burns at the broken sound. âwhatâs wrong?â his eyes lift to your monitor and see the familiar page of the exam results. he scrolls through the letter to see youâve passed.
a laugh of relief spills from his throat, glad that your reaction isnât due to any devastating news. his hand circles around your wrist and tugs at it. âcome here.â
you slowly stand, allowing your emotions to flow upon feeling his arms encircle you tightly. youâll cry into his chest, managing to thank him through your tears. heâll shush you, rubbing at your back and cradling the back of your head.
âyou did such a good job.â he murmurs into your hair.
he continues to mumble praises into your hair and ear, holding and consoling you until your crying has calmed down. once he hears you letting out small breaths to control your breathing, he pulls back, wiping at your tear stained cheeks. âiâm so proud of you.â
your body grows hot at the compliment paired with his stare as he gently cups your cheek, thumb swiping across the skin.
you let out a shaky breath, not sure if it was from your crying or that feeling pooling between your legs. your eyes drop down to his lips then back up to his eyes. higuruma does the same and you canât help but curl your fingers around his dress shirt.
both of your breathing picks up and neither of you are sure of what to do in this moment. you can feel his free hand drop from your back then down to your waist as you each exchange flickering looks between your lips and eyes.
âhigurumaâŠâ you breathe out and he shakes his head, closing his eyes then pressing his forehead to yours.
âhiromi.â he corrects, switching his hand that cups your cheeks to palm the back of your neck. âmy name⊠say it. thatâs all i need.â
you fight the whine that bubbles in your throat, gripping tightly onto him as you open your mouth. âhiromiâŠâ
he gives in at the immediate desperation his name holds, roughly pressing you against him so your lips could meet.
the two of you have your hands moving everywhere along your bodies and a gasp rushes from your lungs as he frantically lifts you onto the desk.
items clatter everywhere as he knocks them away whilst dipping his tongue into your mouth. itâs frantic and eager the way your mouths clash together. soft groans and moans spilling into the air as papers crumble beneath your figure.
you kick off your heels as hiromi hikes your skirt around your hips, pressing your back against the surface and knocking your legs open with his knees, revealing the lace panties hidden underneath them.
he presses himself against you with a rough groan, one hand hoisting your leg at his waist, whilst the other taps your cheek then grips your face to press into them. âopen.â
your jaw widens, and hiromi hums before spitting in your mouth then leaning in to connect your lips again.
heâs hard and big.
itâs all you can think of as your tongues mesh together in perfect harmony.
weeks of built up feelings that you both tried so hard to fight all falling at the seams. you reach up to tug at his black roots as he unconsciously ruts himself against your clothed core.
you take advantage when he finally pulls away, a string of saliva following with him. his lips are swollen and covered in spit as he leans down to kiss along your jaw, then suck at the skin of your neck. you pant feverishly against his ear, gripping tighter onto him each time his bulge connects with your clit just right.
deep shaky breaths fly through his nose as rolls his hips, eyes squeezing tightly from the tightness building in his pants. it felt so fucking good to hear those soft whimpers and moans escape your lips. âfeels so good.â he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. you two practically rubbing against each other like bunnies in heat without even starting the main course.
you whimper feeling yourself clench around nothing. your hands grasp for higuruma and he hums, kissing just below your ear. âgonna cum?â
you nod, mouth slacked open as he breathes harshly against your neck. âthatâs okay, sweetheart.â he huffs, using his free hand to travel down between your bodies. fuck, he thinks the moment his fingers feel how drenched your panties are. your eyes blow wide as he pinches your clothed clit then rubs in tight circles. âyou can cum, itâs okay.â
âoh my god.â you tremble and writhe against his lengthy figure, clawing at his back and arms as you feel lost on what to hold on with your orgasm building every second.
he stops the movement of his hips, grasping your neck so youâd be staring straight at him as he picks up the pace of his fingers. âcome on.â he licks his lips, maintaining the eye contact he forces you to hold. âi wanna see you. youâre almost there.â
âhiromiââ you choke on the air, threatening to close your eyes but he shakes your head, warning you to keep them open as your body trembles from the euphoria that overcomes you.
âgood job.â he wipes at your forehead and cheeks, standing to his full height. you use his tie to lift yourself up, meeting your lips again and immediately sloshing your tongue with his. while he fumbles to unbutton your shirt you do the same then aggressively toss off his tie. his large hands grope at your breast before unclipping your bra to flick and twist at your nipple. you moan into his mouth, fingertips caressing the light muscles of his abs.
he finds it quite amusing how you flinch with each twist and tug but nonetheless you let him continue his worship of your body. he leaves your skirt cinched around your waist, squeezing your hips then slowly tugs your panties down your legs.
you canât imagine what he plans to do next until he drops both his hands behind your thighs, pressing them down as far as he can before bending down to dip his head between your legs.
his tongue flattens against your leaking hole, sucking up all slick your pussy produced. you reach straight for his hair, choking on a moan. âw-wait, i canât.â you tell him, quivering at the sudden sensation. it certainly didnât help with how big his nose is, he had the advantage to nudge it against your clit each lick and suck.
âi just want to taste you.â his voice vibrates against you, eliciting a strangled moan out of you. âis that okay, love?â he pulls back momentarily, mouth and nose coated in your juices as he presses a kiss to either side of your thighs.
what gets you is the fact he genuinely waits on your response. you nod feebly and he presses a kiss to your clit. âthank you.â is all he says before continuing his actions. your eyes immediately squeeze shut and youâre not sure if youâre trying to push his head or pull him closer. regardless, your back arches off the desk, pulling at his hair as he holds you down to prevent any more of your squirming.
a sound of absolute satisfaction rumbles in his chest and higuruma loses himself in your taste. heâs quite filthy really. you wouldâve never expected him to be the type of man that relentlessly switches between licking, spitting, and sucking the way he does. a small pool of liquid has likely formed under you by now.
âr-romi, mâ gonna cum.â he hears, feeling the way you buck up against his mouth and quite literally has to force himself off you at the announcement. he seethes in a breath, huffing and puffing, licking around his mouth.
higuruma stands straight again, unbuckling his belt, letting out a soft breath as he no longer feels constricted. your eyes fall when he drops his pants and briefs. shit. i mean, you figured he was big but not that fucking big.
you yelp as he pulls you to the edge of the table, slapping his thick cock against your drooling hole that pulses around nothing.
âcan i?â he collects your mess between his fingers, spreading your folds and gliding his shaft between them.
you nod but higuruma shakes his head then grips your neck to pull you up. âtell me, sweetheart. can i?â
âp-please.â you look up at him, all doe eyed and desperate. his hand squeezes your neck and keeps you looking at him as he uses his other hand to pull you closer, prodding in just the tip then slowly pushes himself into your warm, gushing cunt. your mouth slacks open at the stretch, gasping for air as higuruma squeezes tighter from the way you sporadically clench around his length.
heâs only halfway in and itâs taking all his energy to not cum. your pussy is torturously sucking him in, so much so a quivering grunt echoes from his chest. he pats your thigh in response. âease up, itâs just me, darling.â he tells you, and you want to laugh at how serious heâs being. ease up? not fucking possible when at least eight inches length and formidable girth was pushing itself into you.
once heâs finally filled to the hilt. your legs cross around his hips, grasping his wrist, preventing him from squeezing too tight on your throat. âyouâre always such a good girl⊠so smart and beautiful.â he praises, leaning in to peck your lips then follows with butterflies kisses along your jaw and neck then comes back up to meet your lips again. your mouths twist slower, fiery and brimmed with passion to distract you from the roll of his hips.
âso warm.â he moans against your lips, biting down and sucking on your bottom one. he finally lets go of your neck, pushing you on your back again then clasping both thighs as leverage to pummel himself deep into your pussy. he groans along to your whimpers and moans, dark eyes focused on the imprint that shows itself on your stomach with every thrust.
his light abs glisten with sweat, his brows furrowed as he zones into the way he disappears in and out of your pussy that sucks him in and coats his base white.
papers crumble beneath your fist as your moans are pulled closer together, the indication that your orgasm was fast approaching. the effect likely to be huge since you already had your first and was denied your second. hiromi grunts, fixing you into a mean semi-mating press, legs over his shoulders as his balls mercilessly slap against your skin to echo around the office space.
âgonna cum.â you quiver but higuruma smacks your clit as if thatâs supposed to help.
âhold it.â
âi-i canât.â you look at him, pouting.
his eyes snap up to meet yours and he smacks you again. âhold it.â
he somehow moves faster and harder, harshly breathing with sweat beading down his temple. after a minute, youâre completely spent, eyes watering as you shake your head. âromi, please. i canât hold it.â
âshhh.â he huffs, pressing his palm over your mouth, viciously chasing the high of his orgasm. he rolls his eyes shut, sticking two fingers into your mouth. âgo. hurry up and cum.â
itâs only a few seconds after his command that your waves come crashing down, body yearning to close upon itself due to the overstimulation but higuruma keeps you spread open, still thrusting for what feels like over a minute.
he pulls out, a hand immediately coming to pump at his length, the other angling your body just right so when he forces your mouth open, hot spurts of his cum land on your breasts, chin, and tongue.
hiromi takes a breath that sounds like heâs inhaling fresh air, squeezing at his tip to extract every ounce of his fill. he takes a good and long look at your weak body, collecting his remains that landed on you to push back into your mouth.
âso beautifulâŠâ he cups your cheek, holding you upright since you clearly canât. âyou alright? did i hurt you?â
âno⊠iâm okay.â you mumble, staring up at him as if he held up the moon and stars. âwas i?⊠okay?â
âabsolutely, love.â his brows furrow, gently caressing your skin as he looks at you. âmore than okay. perfect.â
you smile shyly at that and he has a similar question on his mind as he helps in cleaning you up. âare we okay?â
âam i okay for you?â
hiromi has begun to understand your naturally shy and timid nature but it also crossed his mind that your sense of overthinking would come into play with your age gap.
it wasnât drastic of course but he would never want to put you in a position that made you seemingly uncomfortable.
you nod with a small smile, gripping his bicep and pulling him in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. âmore than okay⊠perfect.â
Sukuna is reincarnated into the modern world, only to realize that being a villain is actually kind of a bore. Now a teacher at Jujutsu High by pure technicality, heâs decided being a âgood guyâ is way more entertaining, mostly because it still lets him do whatever he wants while everyone thanks him for it.
Unfortunately for you, that also means you get assigned to him as a specialist, since your technique is one of the very few things that can smooth out the jagged, overwhelming nature of his cursed energy after he uses it.
The problem is⊠youâre absolutely terrified of him. Every second in the same room feels like your body is trying to shut down, and the idea of having to touch him to do your job makes it even worse.
Sukuna, on the other hand, finds that fear hilarious and treats you like the funniest toy heâs ever been gifted.
pairing: sorcerer sukuna x sorcerer f!reader
wc: 11k
content: mdni, slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers, objectification, toxic dynamics, power imbalance, manipulation, coercion, possessive sukuna, violence, murder, blood, gore, dubious consent vibes, true form sukuna, yuji's not his vessel (...and probably smut at some point)
â prev chapterââŠâchapter 5ââŠânext chapter â
main masterlistââŠâseries masterlistââŠâbanner by @/graphic0rn
Maki closes the distance so fast that most opponents wouldnât have time to react. She swings her staff low, faking for Pandaâs knee, then quickly changes direction and strikes under his ribs. Panda shifts his weight back just in time, dropping his big arms to block the blow with his forearms. The hit lands with a crack, sending dust flying around his feet. Using the force, he twists sideways and drives his shoulder at her, forcing her to back off and slip out of reach before he can follow.
Yuta jumps on the opening right away. He comes in from Pandaâs blind side, holding his wooden practice sword close and moving carefully and quietly, just like he does when heâs overthinking. The attack is far too cautious. Sukuna notices the hesitation long before Yuta even swings, knowing all too well that Yuta is worried about whether Maki has enough space to disengage before he adds more pressure. When Yuta finally attacks, Panda has already picked up on his hesitation and moves into the hit instead of dodging, taking the blow on his shoulder with a grunt, then reaching back to grab Yutaâs sleeve.
âTuna Tuna,â Toge warns from the edge of the yard sharply, and Yuta reacts instantly.
Yuta drops his weight before Panda can throw him, twisting out of the grip in a clumsy way that keeps him from hitting the ground, but it costs him his balance. Maki takes advantage of the situation, rushing in and hitting Pandaâs exposed side while heâs still turning. Her staff lands hard, pushing him a step sideways, and for a moment, the three-on-one drill almost feels worthwhile again. They move and adjust around each other quickly, making it look more like an actual fight than just another exercise Sukuna has already grown tired of watching.
Toge is the most restrained of the three. He waits, watches, and protects his throat instead of using his technique as soon as he sees an opening. Twice, Panda leaves gaps on purpose to tempt him into using Cursed Speech when it isnât needed, and twice Toge ignores the bait.
The first successful opening comes nearly six minutes into the drill. Panda catches Yutaâs wrist during a badly timed strike and uses the grip to pull him forward, throwing him completely off balance again. Maki moves right away to interrupt the follow up before Panda can take advantage, but the angle isnât good enough to do real damage, and she knows it. Toge speaks before either of them can fix the mistake.
âDonât move.â
Pandaâs body freezes immediately, and Maki drives the butt of her staff into his stomach while Yuta tears himself free from the grip and retreats out of range. Toge lowers his head slightly afterward, swallowing against the strain settling into his throat while Panda recovers soon after and breaks into laughter.
âBeen waiting for that one,â he says.
âShake it off and keep moving,â Maki snaps.
Dust hangs constantly in the air now, kicked up by all the impacts and movement as the students keep attacking, adjusting, and recovering. Panda doesnât give up, but being outnumbered makes him think differently. Every decision creates a weakness somewhere else, and every defense opens up another angle. Sukuna watches them exploit those openings again and again over the next few minutes as the patterns gradually become easier to identify.
Maki always pushes harder when she feels the momentum shift in her favor. Yuta always hesitates a little before committing to attacks that might inconvenience someone else. Toge always waits just a bit longer than needed before using Cursed Speech, weighing efficiency against saving his strength every time. These habits arenât particularly hard to spot, and once noticed, they repeat over and over.
That repetition ruins the exercise faster than any mistake could, and Sukuna already knows how the rest will go. Panda will try to bait Maki into overreaching. Maki will notice a little too late and push through anyway because her pride is bigger than her caution. Yuta will cover the opening she leaves, and Toge will warn him soon enough to keep Panda from taking over. Maybe they win the drill, maybe they donât. It doesnât matter anymore because Sukuna has already seen everything worth seeing.
He doesnât bother correcting them either. Thereâs nothing to gain from stopping a mistake before its consequences show up. If Maki leaves herself open, Panda will punish it. If Yuta hesitates, heâll lose his chance. If Toge gets the timing wrong, heâll learn what it costs him. If they want improvement handed to them before they earn it, they can waste someone elseâs time.
Boredom hits him hard, and now the residue from using his cursed energy grabs his attention more effectively than the students do. Youâve already lessened the phantom itch, though he can't pinpoint exactly where the changes have occurred, only that the irritation has faded in some spots while stubborn traces remain.
Before, the feeling simply existed as part of him, something he didnât even know could go away. It was fairly easy to ignore when he had better distractions. Right now, it isn't that bad, but knowing how much quieter it can get makes the lingering irritation harder to disregard.
Thereâs already a solution, and youâve spent the last weeks proving that it works. The itch never disappears completely, but it gets better each time you work on it and gets worse whenever he puts his techniques to serious use. The pattern has happened so often that now he barely gives it conscious thought before deciding where to go.
Across the yard, Panda endures another coordinated attack from all three students at once. Sukuna doesnât look at them anymore, as he rises to his feet and turns toward the main building as though the exercise has already ceased to exist for him.
By the time Panda notices heâs leaving, Sukunaâs already crossing the edge of the training grounds without looking back at the students, abandoning the lesson entirely in favor of a problem he finds much more interesting than anything happening here. The drill only pauses for a moment before continuing, since by now the second years know better than to expect Sukunaâs supervision to resemble anything normal.
Meanwhile, in the classroom, the lesson reaches the second half of the period. The initial awkwardness of taking over the class faded quickly, allowing you to get to know your students well enough now that their approaches to problems are almost as recognizable as their personalities. Megumi works quietly and methodically, finishing exercises with little fuss and always double checking his answers. Nobara tackles assignments with considerably more confidence than patience, ready to admit when she doesnât understand something as long as no one thinks it makes her look weak. Yuji stares at his exercises with such intense focus that it seems like heâs trying to force the math to cooperate, but this approach only ends up with mixed results at best.
You stop by Megumiâs desk first and notice heâs almost done, even though you assigned the task just ten minutes ago. His work is clean, organized, and almost entirely correct. A small arithmetic mistake near the bottom of the page catches your attention, and you point toward it. Megumi follows your finger, stares at the line, and quietly corrects the error before moving on.
Nobara needs a bit more attention. She isnât struggling by any means, but sheâs reached the point where irritation is starting to take over her focus. Her pencil taps repeatedly against the edge of the desk while she glares at the same line of work. When you ask where sheâs stuck, she quickly starts a detailed explanation, eager to show she understands most of it. The real issue is just a misplaced negative sign a few lines back. As soon as you point it out, her whole expression changes.
âThatâs it?â
âThatâs it.â
She stares at the page, then at you, and then back at the page again.
âI hate this.â
You smile at her and move on, leaving her to mutter as she fixes the mistake. By the time you reach the next desk, sheâs already working through the rest of the exercise with no trouble.
Yuji, on the other hand, has managed to create a different kind of problem. At first glance, his answer looks correct. That alone is enough to make you suspicious, because you know from experience that if Yuji gets the right answer too quickly, itâs worth taking a closer look at how he got there.
You lean over his desk and start checking his calculations. Sure enough, as you look closer, they make less and less sense. Partway through, he abandoned the method you just spent twenty minutes explaining and started doing things his own way.
"If you flip the denominator before you multiply, it doesn't just disappear, Yuji," you say gently, leaning over the edge of his desk to point at the chaotic sprawl of his arithmetic.
You quickly make sense of his work, feeling a strange professional satisfaction as you see how his mind works. He isn't lacking intelligence, but he treats notation as an obstacle to answers he already sees through intuition. He skips three lines of basic distribution because his brain has already figured out how the numbers should balance, leaving a mess of math behind him.
"But if the two on the bottom is just waiting there," Yuji argues, leaning back so hard his chair creaks, his face full of profound, earnest confusion as he points his pencil at the board, "and the six over here is already even, can't I just... borrow the space? Like, if I take the three out ahead of time, then the rest of it just fits together."
"Fushiguro, please tell me you heard that.â Nobara slams her notebook flat against her desk, her patience evaporating with a theatrical sigh that causes Megumi to lower his head further into his hand. "Heâs literally inventing his own rules now. Teach, tell him he can't just 'borrow space' from an equation. This is why we've been on the same page all this time!â
"My answer is correct though!" Yuji protests, his voice booming slightly in the small room as he turns to the side to show her the bottom of the page. "Look! Itâs four. The final value for x has to be four, otherwise the top part doesn't have enough weight to match the eight on the other side."
Megumi lets out a long, slow exhale as he finishes the exercise on the next page already. He looks thoroughly drained by his friendsâ arguing again and the noise happening right next to him.
"The answer is four," he says, turning the page of his notebook, "but your logic makes me want to jump out the window."
"See? I told you!" Yuji points triumphantly at Megumi, and a massive, lopsided grin breaks across his face as he ignores the second half of the comment entirely. "Four! The intuition is solid!"
"You guessed!" Nobara fires back, leaning over the aisle to shove his shoulder. "You guessed and somehow landed on the right number! That doesn't count as math, you idiot!"
You laugh before you even realize it. The sudden, bright sound surprises you as it bounces off the narrow walls, but you feel warmth growing in your chest. You step between their desks, take a marker from your pocket, and tap it against the corner of Yujiâs notebook to get his attention back on the problem.
"Itâs not a guess, Nobara," you say warmly, which feels entirely separate from the careful, professional tone you use elsewhere on campus. You look at Yujiâs messy columns and trace his logic with your finger. "Heâs picturing the equation like a scale, balancing the numbers in his head before writing them down. Itâs smart reasoning, but technically a chaos."
Yuji beams, nodding decisively at the girl. "Hear that? That means itâs still correct.â
"It means youâll get a zero on the midterms if you donât show your work, Yuji,â you correct him with a small grin, turning his pencil back to the top of the fraction. "Now, both of you, look at problem five. If the sign flipsâ"
You freeze mid-sentence, holding the marker poised right above the paper as the air in the room suddenly feels colder.
A heavy weight brushes the edge of your awareness, and your body senses the change before your mind can form a thought. That familiar and unmistakable pressure starts to pulse through the building's concrete foundations. Every muscle across your shoulders tenses automatically as your focus is pulled away from the classroom, drawn to a presence youâve become accustomed to tracking whether you want to or not. The pressure isnât unusual anymore; if anything, its familiarity is the problem. After a month of Sukuna coming and going as he pleases, youâve developed habits of your own. The moment heâs near you, you always feel him, just like right now, when he approaches the main building.
The students donât notice anything yet. Nobara keeps grumbling under her breath as she works, while Yuji taps his sneaker against the desk leg in a restless rhythm. They can sense cursed energy well enough, but not like you, whose technique lets you detect it from much farther away and even identify its owner. Meaning, they wonât pick up on it that easily unless a sorcerer is intentionally flooding the area with it.
You force your posture to stay relaxed, swallowing the sudden cold rush of adrenaline that dries your throat. You take a slow breath, so your voice doesnât reveal the slight panic trying to speed up your heartbeat.
"If the sign flips," you continue, just a bit slower than before, "the whole distribution has to change to show the negative value. Nobara, show me how youâd handle the coefficient."
You watch her paper as she starts to write, but part of your mind keeps tracking the pressureâs location without you meaning to. You hate how automatic itâs become, and how your awareness always searches for him now. Most of all, you hate how hard it is to stop.
Sukunaâs now crossing the compound, and you can sense exactly where heâs going through the building. He enters the main corridor, passes the library, and walks by the faculty room. The air in your small classroom feels heavier as his cursed energy presses against the walls from the hallway.
He doesnât pause outside the door but walks right past your classroom, continuing down the hall. A few seconds later, he stops, and youâre almost certain heâs entered your office.
When Nobara finishes walking you through her approach, you turn back to the board and write out the steps to solve the problem.
ââ
The moment Sukuna steps inside the main building, the training exercise disappears from his thoughts entirely. He moves through the schoolâs grounds on autopilot, barely noticing where his feet are taking him.
Nothing happening around him holds any real significance in his mind, because now, the itch just doesnât want to go away. The only person who has shown any meaningful understanding of that is the Weaver, so naturally, the place he expects to find you is your office. He heads there without much thought, as for him itâs the obvious thing to do.
Sukuna reaches the office door and runs his hand over the wood with little care before opening it. Usually, the sound of the panel sliding would be met by the frantic hitch of your breath, but this time⊠you arenât there.
He steps inside and looks around with a blank, unreadable expression. His gaze drops to the desk and sees signs that you were here not long ago. Thereâs a stack of loose papers in the center, filled with your handwriting, and a ceramic mug with a faint ring of cooling tea on the white porcelain sits near the edge. Everything seems exactly as it should, except the chair behind the desk is empty.
Over the past few weeks, the pattern has stayed remarkably reliable, so much that Sukuna never consciously acknowledges it. The office always has the Weaver. Sometimes there are reports spread across the desk; sometimes there are piles of grading; and lately, more and more educational materials that he finds useless and stupid. And sometimes you're working, sometimes resting, and sometimes pretending not to see him. The details change each day depending on whatever youâre currently focused on, but one thing stays the same: Sukuna shows up, and the Weaver is there.
But right now it doesn't bother him much because the absence doesnât seem like a problem. Just because something isn't where it's supposed to be doesn't mean it's gone for good. Thereâs nothing here to suggest anything unusual happened, so he doesn't spend more than a second considering it, reaching the obvious conclusion that you just stepped out for a moment. After all, whatever youâre doing canât be important enough to keep you away for long.
Dropping onto the couch, he stretches his arms along the back and waits. Three silent minutes pass, and with the office still empty, Sukunaâs attention eventually wanders to the desk. Thereâs a folder within reach, and boredom wins out over indifference, making him pick it up. Itâs full of math exercises, explanations, corrections, and notes for students.
He finds it extremely easy to understand and immediately loses whatever respect he might have had for anyone who needs those explanationsânot that he had much in the first place.
"Why the fuck do these parasites need four pages to understand something this obvious?" he mutters in contempt, questioning their intelligence. "Four pages. For this."
Every page only reinforces his belief that people are far stupider than they have any right to be. Still, he reads through the entire thing before dropping it into the bin, then grabs a black pen from your wire tray and spins it between his fingers. He presses until it breaks in half, watching the plastic split with a quiet snap. Ink starts to pool inside the split casing before he drops the pieces back onto some of your notes.
The wait drags on, and with it, annoyance slowly builds in him. It isnât worry or concern, as such concepts are entirely foreign to his nature. What bothers him is simple: he knows youâll eventually return, but eventually keeps refusing to arrive.
That irritation and the itch under his skin start to feel all too similar. Neither is a big deal, but both have easy solutions that are just taking way too long. And thereâs absolutely no reason this should be taking this much time.
Whatâs strange is that he never chooses the obvious solution, which is looking for you, even though finding you would take almost no effort at all. Instead, Sukuna stays exactly where he is for another ten minutes, held in place by an assumption he doesn't even realize he's making that this is temporary and the office will correct itself if given enough time.
Eventually even that assumption fades, and the office stops being worth waiting in. Whatever explanation exists for your absence can almost certainly be found faster than waiting for you to return.
The moment Sukuna actually bothers to pay attention, he easily finds your cursed energy. Realizing how close you are only annoys him more. It feels insulting after the amount of time he has already wasted waiting. The empty office would make sense if you'd left campus or had been sent somewhere far. Distance would at least justify the inconvenience. But you're practically next door.
So why the fuck has he been sitting here?
With that, Sukuna leaves the office and follows your energy just a few doors down, not bothering to rush. He doesnât have to because, as far as heâs concerned, the result is already decided. In his mind, the entire situation would have been avoided if youâd just stayed where you're supposed to be.
ââ
You keep your attention fixed on the board, finishing the last bracket of the system. The classroom stays settled in its rare, comfortable pocket of normalcy, your voice carrying an animated clarity as you explain the interaction of the terms. Across the first row, Yujiâs pencil moves diligently across the paper, while Nobara leans back with her arms crossed, watching the board and following your explanation.
The awareness of Sukuna's presence never fully disappears after he entered the building. Once noticed, it lingers at the edge of your thoughts, impossible to forget entirely even while you stay busy. For a few minutes, however, the situation stabilizes. The pressure is still there, uncomfortable but manageable, and most importantly, it doesn't move. After a while, you cautiously start to let yourself believe it might stay that way. Whatever Sukuna's doing keeps him in one place, and you have no interest in finding out what it is. For the moment, that's enough to let you focus on the three teenagers listening to you.
"Once you factor the polynomial inside the bracket, you have to use the common denominator to clear the rational expression before you can isolate the variable," you say. "Don't try to expand the whole term yet; just look for where the coefficients balance out. Megumi, if we look at the quadratic term on the second lineââ
The air in the classroom suddenly feels harder to breathe, though the change is subtle enough that no one else would have any reason to notice it. The pressure that had stayed in place now grows heavier, and the instant it does, part of your attention follows automatically. Itâs instinctive and happens before you consciously process whatâs happening, as if you've been trained to notice these changes.
Weeks ago, you wouldnât have recognized the difference so easily. But during that time, you kept tracking his arrivals, anticipating his appearances, and measuring distances whenever he entered a building. By now, you feel the changes almost as quickly as the presence itself. As soon as the pressure grows, you know heâs moving closer, and a knot forms low in your stomach before you even understand why.
There are only so many reasons for Sukuna to abandon whatever had been occupying his attention, and experience has taught you that none of them have ever improved your day. Even though thereâs nothing useful to be gained from dwelling on it yet, the distance closes far faster than you expect. You're very grateful when Megumi starts explaining his thought process for the exercise, but your heart hammers against your ribs, and a cold, sharp spike of adrenaline burns through your veins, making your throat tighten until swallowing becomes a conscious effort.Â
You make yourself relax your shoulders and take a slow breath through your teeth, trying to steady the tremor thatâs starting in your wrist. Stopping the lesson would accomplish nothing but show your panic, and the students deserve the comfort of a normal class for as long as possible. You keep your back to the hallway, listening to Megumi as the heavy, oily presence arrives just outside the threshold.
The classroom door slides open. Even though you spent the last few seconds expecting it, it still hits you hard and leaves a heavy feeling in your stomach.
Sukuna doesnât look at Nobara, who stops writing and leans back with a sharp click of her tongue. He completely ignores Megumi, who drops his pencil onto his desk with a quiet, resigned sigh. To Sukuna, the students barely matter. Theyâre just temporary annoyances occupying the space around you. But when his gaze passes over Yuji, pure loathing flashes across his face, and he dismissively rolls his eyes and tunes his nephew out. Then his eyes settle on you, noticing how your shoulders tense and your grip tightens on the whiteboard marker.
The irritation that started when he found the office empty fades almost right away now that heâs located the misplaced object. Still, Sukuna finds it remarkably unsatisfying because it does very little to explain why you aren't where you belong. That frustration quickly replaces his earlier annoyance.
He stands in the doorway, tilting his head and letting his presence fill the room. "Why aren't you in the office?" he asks.
The question isnât hostile. In fact, the sincerity behind it makes it worse. Sukuna truly wants an answer, since for weeks, walking into that room always led to the same outcome. Finding the office empty broke a routine he doesn't even realize he has, and now that he's found what was missing, he wants to know why things changed.
For a moment, you honestly don't know how to answer. His question feels completely out of touch with whatâs right in front of him. The room is full of students, the board is covered in math problems, and every desk has an open notebook. Thereâs no mystery here and the answer is obvious.
But the confusion in his voice is real, and it takes you a moment to understand what heâs really asking. Itâs not about what youâre doing at all. What he doesnât get is why youâre doing it here instead of somewhere else. The arrogance of his interruption just for that reason makes your frustration flare up beneath your panic. He acts like your classroom, your students, and your carefully prepared lesson are no different from a pile of paperwork on your desk.
"I'm teaching," you say, trying to keep your tone steady even though your pulse is racing, gesturing toward the system of equations on the board.
Sukunaâs gaze follows your hand as his eyes move over the messy columns of fractions and quadratic terms with clear, unbothered contempt. Your explanation means nothing to him; he can see perfectly well what youâre doing. Everything around you makes it obvious, but it doesnât matter compared to the itching currently grating on his nerves.
"Then stop," he says flatly. Knowing now whatâs stopping everything from returning to normal, his solution is exactly what it has always been: remove the obstacle.Â
The response sounds so certain that it takes you a moment to realize he genuinely thinks heâs solved the problem. But he doesnât explain or tell you to follow him down the hall; he just stands perfectly still in the doorway, waiting with his arms crossed, completely sure you'll do what he says. Heâs made his correction, and now he expects everything to fall in line.
Part of you desperately wants to argue and snap at him that these kids deserve a teacher who won't just disappear in the middle of class, but the absolute weight radiating off him reminds you exactly who youâre standing across from. After a month of learning how Sukuna thinks, you know when a fight is lost before it even starts. Any argument would simply force you to spend the next several minutes explaining why a classroom isn't interchangeable with your office, and judging by his expression, you already know how that would go.
A heavy silence fills the room, while the students try to process the words. You look at his unmoving form and realize, with a sinking heart, that he isnât just going to turn around. He really wants you to drop everything and walk out behind him.
But the lesson is only half-finished, with several exercises still on the board, and the class should continue for another twenty minutes. Your students are still watching, moving their eyes between you and Sukuna in shock. They might not matter to him, but to you, they are real people who trust you to protect their space.
Turning away from him feels strangely hard, as if following him out means accepting that everything in this room can be set aside whenever he decides something else is more important. Even so, you force yourself to face the classroom and gather what composure you have left.
âRight. Iâm sorry, everyone. Weâll have to stop here for today,â you say, keeping your voice steady as you address the three first-years. âPlease finish the assigned problems on your own," you force your attention back to the lesson plan still sitting open on your desk. "Questions five through eight. Review the examples we covered today, especially the second and third. If anything remains unclear, bring your questions to the next class and weâll go over them together.â
The classroom stays silent for a few seconds after you finish speaking.
The confusion in the room is obvious, and to Yuji, it's ridiculous even by Sukuna's standards. Heâs the first to speak up, saying what everyone else is thinking. "You've got to be kidding, Sukuna."
The disbelief in his voice earns absolutely nothing as Sukuna doesn't even glance in his direction. Whatever objection Yuji thinks he's raising is absolutely irrelevant now that the lesson is overâSukuna has already moved on. His attention stays fixed on you as you gather the papers spread across the desk, organizing notes and trying very hard not to think about how absurd this entire situation is.
He waits through the whole process without a single complaint or sign of impatience. To you, his patience somehow feels even more frustrating. He doesnât rush you, repeat himself, or remind you why heâs here. His quiet confidence clearly shows he sees this delay as a simple matter of logistics, not a disagreement.
Once you close the last folder and tuck it under your arm, Sukuna has already turned to the door. He doesnât look back to see if youâre coming, because it never occurs to him that you might not. You step past the threshold, leaving the first years behind, and the heavy weight of his presence clings to you as you follow him down the short length of the hall to your office.
The door slides shut behind you. Youâre trying to calm your breathing, while Sukuna stands in the middle of the room, radiating a heat so intense it makes your skin prickle.
"What is it?" you ask, and it comes out more cautious than annoyed. You're not reckless enough to forget who you're talking to.
Sukuna glances at you. For a moment, he looks almost confused by the question, like the reason for dragging you in here should be completely obvious.
"It itches."
The answer is so blunt that it leaves no room for argument. For him, it's a perfectly logical explanation: he has a problem, you're the tool to fix it, and your classroom didn't matter enough to even enter the equation at all.
You stare at him. Thatâs it. No apology for pulling you out of class, and no acknowledgment whatsoever that he had just interrupted a lesson halfway through. All he gives is a simple fact, spoken in a casual, uncaring way.
The audacity of it makes the irritation in your chest grow sharper, making you realize that for him thereâs nothing strange about this. Unfortunately, that also serves as a reminder of what happens next; itâs a routine you know too well.
With a quiet sigh, you drop your textbook and notes on the desk, taking a slow breath through your teeth to steady your hands before turning to face him. Sukuna, because he's still an asshole, stands exactly where he is and doesnât move to meet you halfway. Only now do you notice how heâs dressed. Today, the usual oversized black sweatshirt is paired with loose black hakama instead of sweatpants, making him look even more out of place on your couch.
âCan you at least lie down this time?â you ask, knowing itâs absolutely pointless.
âNo.â
âRight,â you mutter to yourself.
A month ago, walking across the room to touch him would have made your heart race so much you could barely think. Now, you know there's no point in delaying the inevitable, and the movement feels almost automatic. You step in front of him, raise your hand, and hesitate for just a moment before pressing your palm flat against the sweatshirt on his chest, this time without your breath catching. The familiar heat under your fingers tells you exactly where to start.
After doing this so many times, it should feel routine, and in some ways, it does. Touching him is easier now, but you still feel a knot of dread in your stomach every single time before you make contact, and you suspect that will never change.
Weaving Sukuna is never comfortable, no matter how much progress youâve already made. His cursed energy is still overwhelming in ways your mind struggles to properly describe. Ancient, immense, and unnaturally sharp, it presses against your senses with the same suffocating weight it always has. The only difference is that you no longer spend every second expecting it to kill you.
Your fingers curl into the fabric as youâve learned this gives you additional stability. The residue around him is still far away from being fully smooth, with countless layers that catch against each other; that hasnât changed, but there are fewer of them than before.
What has changed is you. Your breathing doesn't catch every time you touch him now. Your hands don't shake so badly that maintaining contact becomes difficult. You still hate being this close to him and still are painfully aware of how little space there is between you and the most dangerous creature in the world, but your body has gradually stopped treating every session like it's life or death. The fear is still there, but now it's simply become familiar.
Sukuna notices that, and at this point, you actually think he notices everything. But today, he leaves you alone. For once, he stands perfectly still the whole time, offering no mockery or deliberate movement to break your rhythm. He just lets you do your job while his gaze stays fixed somewhere above your head, completely indifferent to your exhaustion.
The compressed layers still resist when you press your cursed energy against them to separate them, but they move a little more easily than before. Small gaps open up, allowing you to guide your technique in and smooth out the splinters.
Itâs still slow, requires careful pressure, patience, and concentration. And, unfortunately, it remains exhausting to work with. The effort slowly burns through your reserves, making your shoulders ache and your arm shake from the strain long before you're done.
The office stays quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional movement, and the steady flow of cursed energy passing between you. Sunlight from the window slowly moves across the floor as noon passes. By the time it reaches the couch, you've been at this for almost an hour, and still neither of you has said a word.
When you finish the section you were working on, the invisible friction under your hands finally quietens, leaving behind only flat layers that slide easily against each other. By then, the strain has caught up with you, and the exhaustion is impossible to ignore.
As you pull your hand away, your technique retreats and the connection breaks with a sudden, dizzying jolt that forces your eyes to snap open. Your knees feel weak, and your vision blurs at the edges from the long, intense focus. Without looking at him, you stumble a couple of clumsy steps back, catch yourself on the edge of the desk to keep your balance, and drop heavily into your office chair with considerably more relief than dignity.
All the fatigue hits you all at once, making it clear just how much energy the process consumed. You drop your head into your hands and press your fingers hard against your temples, trying to stop the thudding headache starting to pound in your skull. Your body feels completely hollowed out, your muscles tremble, a dull ache sits behind your eyes, your shoulders burn from holding the same pressure for so long, and your fingers feel oddly heavy.
A small ripple moves through the cursed energy around him as he rolls his shoulders and tilts his head. You've smoothed out some of the frayed edges, and whatever he feels seems to satisfy him, since he doesn't immediately complain. By now, you know this is the closest thing to approval you'll ever get.
He turns on his heel to drop his weight carelessly onto the heavy couch across from you. The weaving session may be over, but of course it has very little to do with him leaving. You feel like it should probably bother you more than it does, but it just feels strangely expected. That thought, though, annoys you right away.
A grin spreads across his face. "What?"
"Nothing,â you reply quietly, causing his grin to widen.
The knot of tension in your stomach tightens because Sukuna rarely gets this amused without a reason. He stays stretched out on the couch, completely at ease in a space that was never his, while you sit behind your desk, trying to ignore that he has once again decided to stay.
An hour later, the rush of adrenaline finally fades into a steady, manageable tiredness. The silence in the office settles into what almost feels like a routine. Sukuna has his head leaning over the backrest and his eyes closed. You canât tell if heâs asleep or not as you slowly work through the pile of tasks still waiting on your desk.
The irritation from earlier never fully disappears. Every so often, your eyes wander to the abandoned lesson plan left among the paperwork, and the memory of your classroom resurfaces. The frustration isnât as sharp as when he first pulled you away, softened by exhaustion and time, but itâs still there beneath everything else.
You make yourself focus on the papers in front of you, sort the math worksheets, click your pen, and stack folders, letting the paperwork ground you. After a while, you realize you need a heavy vinyl binder from the storage shelf across the room. You pause, fingers hovering over your desk as you mentally prepare yourself to move.
That would probably horrify the version of you from a month ago. Back then, the couch effectively divided the office in two whenever Sukuna was there, and anything on his side might as well have stopped existing until he left. In other words, you wouldn't have dared to lift yourself out of your chair while he was in the room. You would have just sat at your desk, waiting for him to go before even thinking about moving.
Now, though, youâve spent enough time sharing the room with him to develop habits around him. With your work piling up, you canât stay frozen forever, so you lift your eyes carefully, checking on Sukuna. He hasnât moved, and his eyes are still closed. You still canât tell if heâs really asleep or just pretending, but it doesnât matter much. Closed eyes are better than open ones.
Figuring out how to walk across your own office feels ridiculous, but thatâs just how things are now. The path isnât straight, but at least there is one, and that already feels like a small win. You treat him like any other obstacle, adjusting your route to keep as much distance as you can while still getting where you need to go.
You get up from the desk and cross the room, making sure to keep at least a meter between you and the couch and to keep your eyes fixed on the binder you need. By the time you pass him, you've convinced yourself that whatever strange mood has kept him this quiet for the last hour will probably last a bit longer.
But Sukuna knows the exact moment you stand. He actually did fall asleep at some point, though even asleep, heâs always aware of whatâs happening around him. The scrape of the chair against the floor is enough to draw his attention back toward you, but he keeps his eyes closed for a few seconds longer and listens instead.
Only when you pass the couch does he crack one eye open. His gaze follows you the rest of the way to the shelves. The movement stands out to him because itâs still unusual. You're apparently willing to work around him now instead of waiting for him to leave like you used to.
That small change amuses him. It seems like youâre starting to treat the room as yours again, and seeing you reaching for the binder without hesitation, it seems youâve gotten just comfortable enough to forget that comfort is usually a mistake.
The binder comes off the shelf easily, and you glance down to check the label to make sure itâs the right one and turn back to the room. Your heart skips a beat. Sukuna is standing right in front of you.
The suddenness of it catches you completely off guard. He moved without making a single sound, and his towering two-meter body traps you in the narrow space between his chest and the shelves. The shelf presses against your back, leaving you no clear way out unless you move around him.
Then he takes one step closer, making it feel like thereâs no space between you at all. Your breath catches before you can stop it, which annoys you instantly because you feel like you should be used to this by now, but somehow youâre not.
Heâs close enough that your instincts search for a reason, but you find none. His face gives nothing awayâthereâs no irritation, no obvious threat, and no amusement.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. You stare at him, trying to figure out what happened in the handful of seconds it took to retrieve a binder, and more importantly, why. Unfortunately, asking him why has rarely given you any useful answers.
"Can you move?"
Sure enough, Sukuna doesn't answer. His gaze is fixed on you with the same intensity you've gotten used to over the past month. The silence itself isn't strange, and neither is how close he stands. He has crowded you before, boxed you in, and gotten way too close, looking thoroughly entertained by your discomfort more times than you can count. Itâs nothing new, although itâs certainly as annoying and unpleasant as ever.
Thatâs precisely why your confusion deepens when his hand rises to his sweatshirt collar. At first, you donât think much of it. Your eyes just follow the movement out of habit, watching as his fingers hook into the dark fabric. Nothing heâs done since you met him explains why heâs suddenly reaching for his clothes. It just doesnât fit any of his usual patterns.
Then, he starts pulling it off.
Your mind races for an explanation and, deprived of any reasonable alternatives, latches onto the first one it can find. One that feels way more believable than it should. Itâs ridiculous. Completely, totally ridiculous. But that does absolutely nothing to stop it from popping into your head.
There hadn't been a single moment when he had shown the slightest indication of being interested in you like that. Still, people are apparently capable of turning into complete idiots under the right circumstances, and you mess up right when he pulls the fabric over his head.
Your eyes drop before you can stop them and land on the tanned skin of his stomach and chest, making you absolutely malfunction. It should only last a fraction of a second, but your attention remains firmly locked in place while a sense of horror starts to build in the back of your mind.
Why are you staring? This is Sukuna. He constantly makes your life a living hell. Youâre scared of him. You spend most of your time trying not to be intimidated, scared, annoyed, or even murdered by him. None of those things should make you stare, so why are you still looking? Stop it!
But your eyes wonât cooperate. By the time you realize it, several seconds have passed, and youâve already seen way too much.
He looks unreal, made of nothing but hard muscle, radiating an intense heat that seems to roll off his skin and sink right into you. Your gaze lingers on the sharp lines of his collarbones, then drifts down to his broad chest. Thick, symmetrical tattooed lines start at his shoulders or maybe even his back and run down to his pecs, moving slightly with every breath.
Lower down, his stomach is just as unbelievable. Eight solid abs stand out, each one defined enough to cast its own shadow when the light hits right. The skin is pulled tight, and with every breath, his muscles tighten and relax in a slow wave. Two lines of ink run down the ridges, somehow making every detail stand out even more. A thin trail of pale pink hair starts below his navel and disappears under the waistband of his pants.
After being around him for so long, youâre painfully aware of just how huge Sukuna is. It was obvious through his clothes, but seeing the reality underneath them is something else entirely.
The loose black hakama hanging low on his hips does absolutely nothing to help. It only draws your eyes to everything above, and for one unfortunate moment, your mind goes blank as you stare at his v-line and torso that look too good to be real.
Heat rises up your neck so fast it makes you dizzy, and your face turns red as your heart flips in panic. When your eyes finally snap back to his face, you see him⊠smirk. That just makes everything worse.
WaitâŠ
Your brain, already overwhelmed by its own terrible assumptions, instantly takes this as proof of some kind of twisted flirting, because it canât think of any other reason for this and just spirals straight into full-blown panic.
Oh god. OH GOD. No.
You can hardly believe it, but his smirk only gets bigger. The heat between you feels intense, overwhelming, and way too indecent, and the wooden shelves behind you start to feel like a trap you canât escape.
Suddenly, it feels like all the air in the office is gone. The temperature seems to drop and rise at the same time, and a heavy wave of pressure slams into your chest so hard that your lungs lock up and for a moment you canât breathe. Just like that, the illusion of whatever this is violently shatters and youâre reminded exactly who you're standing in front of.
At first, your mind refuses to process what itâs seeing. Thereâs no warning, no burst of cursed energy, and no flash of light. One moment, Sukuna stands in front of you exactly as he always does; the next, his body starts to change. It happens so quickly that you wonder if youâve been seeing him wrong all along, or if the form you knew was never the real one to begin with.
Itâs so completely different from anything your mind was expecting that a sharp, humiliating high-pitched squeak escapes your throat before you can stop it. You donât even realize you made the sound until itâs already out, pulled from you by the sight of his body growing far too large for the room.
The shelves press painfully into your back as you try to move away, but thereâs nowhere to go. Your face is still burning, and your heart frantically pounds in your chest. The ceiling feels much lower than before, and the office shrinks around him as he keeps staring at you, completely unfazed by how massive heâs getting.
Itâs not just his height. His shoulders broaden, stretching wider and wider until they completely block out the light from the window. His chest grows with them, thick muscle building on an already large frame. The shape of his body you were used to disappears beneath an almost unbelievable, absurd amount of bulk.
All the horrifying and embarrassing thoughts that had filled your mind over the past thirty seconds fade away, replaced by a new wave of fear and a much bigger problem. You canât look away as the right side of his face starts to change too.
The skin on his cheek and temple hardens into something like a plate. The shape changes until a part of the right side looks wrongânot hurt or twisted, just different and much less human. The change spreads up and down, and then⊠another set of eyes appears.
A memory hits you hard, making your stomach drop. You could have sworn you saw four eyes the first time you met him. That image haunted you for weeks before common sense eventually won the argument and you convinced yourself it was just terror, exhaustion, and enough cursed energy to crush a normal person into the floor. That seemed like a far more reasonable explanation than believing you'd actually seen something impossible. People donât have four eyes, and even Sukuna shouldnât.
But thatâs exactly what you see now. The new eye under his left one opens first. On the right side, both eyes are set in that hardened plate and are much bigger than the ones on the left. Four crimson irises focus on you, and they blink smoothly once before blinking again.
Two entirely new arms unfold from the sides of his torso, sliding into the cramped room with a terrifying ease. Every single movement he makes feels strangely natural, almost like his body is returning to its real shape instead of becoming something new. The extra arms are massive, packed with the same strong muscle as his main ones.
Youâve heard the same stories as every other sorcerer. Most old tales sound silly or even contradict each other, but some details never change: four eyes, four arms, and the so-called ideal sorcererâs body. Suddenly, those legends that had always felt comfortably distant stop feeling like legends at all.
When Sukuna finishes changing, heâs almost touching the ceiling. At two meters, he was already intimidating. Now, at two and a half, shirtless, with four arms and four eyes, he looks like something that should only exist in myths and stories parents tell their children as a warning.
Every embarrassing thought you had, every mortifying second you spent staring at his chest, and every panicked assumption your brain had thrown together a moment ago collapses so completely that all it leaves behind is raw humiliation. He wasnât flirting, and he definitely wasnât interested in you. Of course the truth turned out to be something infinitely worse than that.
Sukuna watches every stage of the realization show on your face. Amusement is clear in all his eyes as he folds his upper arms across his chest and leans down, while the lower pair reach past you. The shelves groan as his huge hands land on either side of your shoulders, fully trapping you in a cage of his muscle. The office felt small before, but now thereâs hardly any space left to breathe.
His grin grows wider, making him look unbearably pleased with himself.
"What happened?" he says in a deep voice that drips with satisfaction. "Where'd all that confidence go, princess?"
His plan was simple: remind you that feeling comfortable around Sukuna was a mistake. Nothing more than that.
But when Sukuna reached for the sweatshirt, your reaction wasnât what he expected. While suspicion or outright panic wouldâve made sense, you just stared. He watched the confusion grow on your face as his hand caught the collar, and almost right away, he saw heat rush into your cheeks. It spread higher with every passing second, and when your gaze didnât pull away, the whole situation became significantly more interesting than heâd originally planned.
When your eyes traveled lower and stayed there, he could see the struggle happening in them while your brain tried to make sense of things, coming up with something so spectacularly stupid that he almost laughed. It became absolutely obvious that you thought this was going somewhere entirely different. What made it better is you seeming genuinely horrified by the possibility, and Sukuna felt compelled to let it continue for a few more seconds, just to see what would happen next.
At that point, he couldâve transformed right away, but he waited, enjoying the increasingly desperate effort you made to convince yourself that the conclusion you reached was impossible while simultaneously treating it as undeniable fact. It wasnât part of his plan, but your total misunderstanding of what was happening made it one of the most entertaining experiments heâd had since getting you.
Once heâd seen enough, Sukuna finally followed through and started to change, watching the confusion disappear right away. Every bit of embarrassment vanished from your face, replaced by a reaction he liked much more and found considerably more satisfying. By the time he finished, you were staring at him exactly how people were supposed to, and the fear was back where it belonged.
And now, the question he asked lingers in the cramped space between you, and for a long, awkward moment, all you can do is stare, though definitely not at him. Your gaze locks stubbornly on a point somewhere near his shoulder, as if that patch of air might offer some kind of escape, while your brain scrambles for a response and comes up with absolutely nothing useful.
Panic keeps running through you, no matter how many times you try to remind yourself that Sukuna hasnât actually done anything except change into whatever nightmare form this is and pin you against a shelf. Four eyes stay locked on you, four arms box you in, and his sheer size fills most of your vision, making it impossible to forget that this massive, looming thing is still, somehow, Sukuna.
Unfortunately, reminding yourself of that does nothing, because every attempt to focus on it crashes straight into what happened just before. Heat crawls up your face again, and Sukunaâs grin only stretches wider, because he notices immediately.
"Well?" he purrs, his voice dropping into a deep, vibrating rumble. âYou done staring?"
Frozen under his stare, youâre hit with humiliation so sharp it nearly drowns out the fear. Not quite, though, as both emotions are now fighting for space inside your chest, neither willing to give an inch. Still trapped between the shelves and him, youâre forced to relive the single most embarrassing moment of your life while the person responsible watches with obvious delight. Your grip tightens around the binder pressed to your chest, and your eyes dart desperately toward the safety of the floorboards.
Trying to muster some kind of explanation, anything that might salvage a scrap of dignity, you open your mouth, but the words get stuck in your throat and refuse to budge.
"I... I wasn't..." you stammer, your voice cracking slightly.
The sentence falls apart before it even leaves your lips as your mind slams into a wall. What on earth could you even say to finish that?
Sukunaâs laughter erupts instantly, cutting straight through any flimsy defense you might have had. The sound rolls through the office, deep and unrestrained, filling every bit of space with an amusement that only makes your embarrassment burn hotter. It lingers, echoing off the walls, and when you finally force yourself to look at him, the expression spread across all four eyes leaves no doubt that heâs enjoying this far more than any reasonable person should. Thereâs not a hint of uncertainty on his face, just smug satisfaction and open delight as he watches you flounder.
"You weren't?"
Itâs obvious heâs mocking you. Still, heat keeps crawling up your neck. You hate that it's happening, hate that he noticed, and most of all, hate that every effort to shove the memory aside only drags the memory back into focus. Every detail is still achingly fresh: the staring, the smirk, the awful misunderstanding, and the even worse realization that followed. Each one replays itself while Sukuna looks like heâs just found his new favorite pastime.
âPretty sure you were eating me up hard a minute ago."
Your eyes squeeze shut right away. It doesnât help at all, but looking at him right now is out of the question. Every second of silence stretches unbearably when his amusement practically presses down on you, making the embarrassment burn hotter. The urge to vanish is so strong you nearly curl in on yourself, mortified beyond wordsâand of course, that only makes him laugh harder.
"Come on, princess." He says that pet name again in such a condescending tone that it makes you want to puke. He isnât actively threatening you, but the position still leaves you with no chance of escape. Pretending this conversation isnât happening isnât an option either. "Look at me."
Absolutely not. You force your eyes open and focus on one of his hands instead, but itâs a useless effort. His presence fills the room, swallowing up all space; every subtle shift of muscle drags your attention back to him, every movement a reminder of just how massive he is.
Another laugh escapes him, low and rough, vibrating through his chest before breaking into something sharper, almost breathless with amusement. It lingers in the air for a moment, rich and infuriatingly genuine.
âWhere'd all that confidence go?" he asks again, his voice dripping with loud, echoing satisfaction.
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. The answer is obvious, but thereâs no universe where you can admit out loud that you thought he was flirting with you without sounding like a complete idiot. Any attempt at an explanation would only dig the hole deeper. Sukuna watches the panic, humiliation, and dawning horror flicker across your face, and pure delight blooms across his own, soaking up every second.
âNo, really. You were doing fine a minute ago." One of his upper hands uncrosses, gesturing lazily toward the binder still trapped against your chest. "You looked almost comfortable, plotting your little paths around my couch."
The word hits like a curse, and suddenly itâs all clear. You got too comfortable, let your guard down, and stopped treating him like the constant threat he is. He saw it, recognized the opportunity, and set this whole thing up just to exploit it. The realization lands heavy in your chest, and his grin only sharpens, stretching smug and wide, like heâs been waiting for you to piece it together all along.
âThen I took my shirt off, and suddenly you forgot how to think."
A wave of genuine despair washes over you. Heâs never going to let this go. You know it, he knows it, and judging by the smug smirk on his face, heâs already planning how to bring it up at every possible opportunity. Worse, heâll probably wait until youâve almost managed to forget, just to make the humiliation sting that much more.
For a few more agonizing seconds, Sukuna just looms over you, drinking in every last drop of your silent, burning misery. Then, finally decides heâs had his fun. With a loud, booming laugh, he throws his head back and steps away. His massive upper arms uncross, and he lets you out of the cage of his lower limbs, stretching to his full, impossible height.
The sudden absence of all that bulk is almost dizzying after being pinned for so long. Though the relief is considerably muted by him still planted in the middle of your office, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
When he was leaning over you, there were more immediate problems to worry about. Now, with a few steps of distance between you, you're able to take in the full scale of him. It does absolutely nothing for your nerves or the panic still churning in your chest. The top of his head hovers disturbingly close to the ceiling, and every piece of furniture looks laughably undersized by comparison. Even from across the room, he dominates the space so completely that your office doesnât even feel like yours anymore.
Still chuckling, thoroughly delighted with the absolute disaster heâs made of your afternoon, he walks across the office and drops his massive, absurdly bulked-up frame carelessly onto the couch without a second thought.
CRACK.
The sound of splintering wood cuts sharply through the room so abruptly that even you freeze. The back left leg of the couch gives out, causing the frame to lurch sideways and partially collapse.
Sukunaâs booming laughter dies mid-breath, cut off as he stares down at it. Extra limbs twitch, restless, when he shifts to accommodate the awkward tilt of the cushions, and a heavy scowl twists across his face.
"Tch."
That sharp, deeply irritated click of his tongue echoes through the room as he shifts, glaring down at the damage. His eyes narrow into slits as the sheer inconvenience of the whole mess settles in. The couch creaks beneath him as if protesting its fate, one side sagging noticeably lower than the other.
Then his head slowly turns. All four eyes lock directly onto you, still standing by the shelves, and his stare burns with such flat accusation that your stomach drops straight through the floor. Not a single word leaves his mouth, but the look he throws your way is so outrageously unfair it almost drags a laugh out of you. You didnât build the couch, you didnât break it, and youâre definitely not responsible for two and a half meters of him dropping onto it with enough force to break one of its legs. None of that seems to matter. The couch is broken, itâs in your office, and apparently, thatâs all the evidence Sukuna needs.
Then the sting of humiliation from earlier actually wrestles with a wild, desperate urge to defend yourself. You hold your breath and meet his stare, half-expecting him to reduce the rest of your office to splinters just to even out the score.
Sukuna genuinely considers whether to keep holding you personally responsible for the failure of a piece of furniture that was never designed to survive this situation in the first place. Another creak from beneath him finally drags his attention back to the actual source of the problem. His deepens, and the scowl on his face settles into a look of flat, unbothered pragmatism.
Just like that, the change starts to reverse, requiring less effort from him than it takes to blink. It happens much faster than the first timeâor maybe it just feels that way now that it isnât happening right in your face.
Monstrous height and bulk shrink away until he fits the proportions youâve spent the last several weeks trying very hard not to get used to. The second pair of arms disappear back into his sides, the hardened plate on his face softens and vanishes, and four eyes become two. In a matter of seconds, the impossible creature that filled half the office is gone, replaced by the version of Sukuna you actually recognize.
Silence stretches out as Sukuna stares at the couch, still stubbornly broken beneath him, shifting a little against the one intact patch of cushion. There isnât a single word of explanation or even acknowledgment of what just happened, as heâs too busy testing the couch. Now that his bulk is reduced, the lopsided tilt is stable enough to tolerate. The wood still creaks, but it doesnât sound like itâs about to give out under him, and after another small adjustment, he looks perfectly satisfied with the result.
The fact that heâs given more consideration to a broken piece of furniture and solving its problem than to the revelation that he can apparently turn into... whatever the hell that was is so ridiculous that your brain struggles to decide which is more concerning.
For another minute or two, Sukuna stays put, stretched out on the damaged couch like nothingâs happened and the entire afternoon has gone exactly according to plan. The smug look that keeps flickering around the corners of his mouth whenever his gaze drifts your way tells you thatâs probably not far off.
You try so very hard not to act like heâs not there. Itâs not even about the transformation and the terrifying size heâd taken on minutes ago. Itâs just that every glance in his direction drags your mind right back to what happened earlier, and youâre embarrassed that he caught you being an idiot all over again.
The worst part is, youâre sure he knows exactly whatâs going on inside your head. So refusing to look at him quickly becomes the only defense mechanism, even if it accomplishes absolutely nothing, but itâs all youâve got.
Eventually, Sukuna rises from the couch. No matter how hard you try to ignore him, your eyes track his movements as he crosses the room to the sweatshirt he tossed aside earlier. He picks it up, slides it on with no rush at all, and shrugs it over his shoulders with that same careless indifference heâs worn all afternoon.
Before you know it, heâs already heading for the door, looking for all the world like heâs leaving after a normal visit. His eyes catch yours for a split second, and that knowing and deeply infuriating grin curls at his mouth again. Then heâs gone, and the room goes quiet.
Still standing by the shelf, you clutch the binder to your chest, and your heart finally eases its frantic pace. Your thoughts are a complete mess, caught between embarrassment, confusion, leftover panic, and the absurd realization that the most disturbing part of all this might actually be Sukuna's priorities.
âWhat the fuck?â you mutter, then count to sixty in your head, and finally, being able to move, you almost run out of your office.
â prev chapterââŠâchapter 5ââŠânext chapter â
series masterlist
a/n: fr sukuna spent half an hour coming up with a completely insane explanation and walked into the classroom genuinely believing that the real issue was her not staying in the correct room. king behavior
Need this chapter to be injected into my veins and eventually we form a symbiotic relationship until it takes over my body and annihilates me #asap , and run that shit back bc itâs that good
The only time Higuruma displays a modicum of submissiveness is the moment you finally ride his face, of course.
Eyes lulling to the back of his skull, jawline decorated with a messy lather of your slick that trickles all the way down to the center of his throat, and with the prettiest groans sung out right in between your drooling cuntâof course your boyfriend's gonna find himself submissive when you're sitting so perfectly on top of him.
âStop, mmgh, pulling away from me,â Heâd groan in between the folds of your dripping pussy, drooling extensively off of your tastes as his fingers press deeper into the skin of your hips. âPlease,â Higuruma would moan up against you just before he pulls you back down again.
After the last five orgasms he brought you to recently, of course youâre pulling away from him and gasping out his name as if that would keep him from eating you out like a man so utterly starved. You wish you could say you hated it when he got like this.
But the truth was that nothing feels better than your pussy-drunk boyfriend forcing you to drag your cunt all over the length of his face. With his nose practically french kissing your clit, his tongue slithers deeper and deeper every time.Â
Heâd already had you laid out in every position imaginable just before this and now he practically uses you for his own pleasureâdespite being the one giving instead of receiving.Â
âHiromi, p-please,â You tried to plead back with him, aching for a moment to breathe because the desperate suck you receive in the next second has you tugging away from him all over again.
Not that he lets you go that time either. Instead, he only drags you right back down and damn near glares up at you with those pretty glossed over wide-set eyes of his. âRide,â He huffs out, âI told you to ride my face, please?â He whines this time.
You only drip into his mouth even more the second that whine of his hits your ears and you watch the way he smiles as if you just praised him for begging. Then his mouth is slobbering all over you again and youâre reaching a hand down to at least hold onto him while you attempt to do as heâs asked you so nicely to.
The first grind of your hips forward makes his eyes roll back and you feel a whorish moan vibrate off of his tongue and right against your pussy. Then heâs fucking his tongue up into you, mumbling, âMhm, mmhm, donât stop.â
Itâs then that you grow addicted to it, the feeling of him growing more and more encouraged by your movements. Your hips rock faster against him and he lets his hands guide you through it. âHiromi-, hahh,â You gasp just barely as he shakes his head up into you.
Dark black locks of hair stick to his forehead and although his eyes are directly up on yours, you could tell he was beyond fucked out. He only pulls away to press sloppy kisses onto your pussy as if he worshiped every inch of you.
âSâsweet,â He whispers against you as his eyes soften up on you. Then heâs looking at your cunt and swiping his tongue over his lips before biting back a groan, âAnd pretty,â Oh, heâs so far gone.
The next thing you know, heâs diving right back into you and you feel his tongue sliding deeper inside you than before.
âInside and out,â He inherently chokes out as he finally forces you up a little. You thought he was finally giving you a break for a second, pant after pant leaving you while you stare at him.
Instead, to your surprise, Higuruma lets his tongue hang out and bats his lashes up at you almost innocently before uttering, âPlay with her.â
You feel your body tense and almost scoff in response, âW-What?â
His thumb moves to meet your clit and he starts spelling out his name, âLike this,â He instructs, âI wanna watch you do it over my tongue, câmon.â
You nearly shudder at the gentle touch of his thumb but you move to match his movements anywayâthumbing your clit and keeping your cunt sloppily dripping down onto his expecting tongue.
Biting back a smile, Higuruma fights the urge to lean up and latch himself back onto you. Instead, he patiently listens to the soft moans you let out and stares at the gorgeous spread of your pussy as your arousal leaks and so perfectly meets his tongue.
âThaatâs my girl,â He coos, âSo fuckinâ... mgh, perfect.â In the midst of his groaned praises, he doesnât even realize the embarrassing mess heâs making of himself as he cums right then and there. Practically untouched and entirely off of eating you out.
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's LOVELY to reader exclusively, more tags to be added on a chapter by chapter basis!
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] â it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students â with very high libidos, and didnât want any random stds â 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 ] â MDNI. 18+ only. nsfw. angst. FAMILY DRAMA. a wholeeeeeee lot of plot. fwb. slight degradation. dumbification. sukunaâs thick happy trail. SEXTING. phone sex. dacryphilia. toxic frat culture. sukuna has ANGER issues. crying. toxic co-dependency. TRAUMA. domestic abuse. child abuse. depression. anxiety. wc: 22.6k
series masterlist âź previous chp âź next chp (coming soon)
the buzzing in sukunaâs ear was deafening.
all the blood in his body felt like it was burning through his skin. anger pounding behind his eyes as they stare at the red hand print on his little brotherâs cheek.
the band on stage continues playing, a backdrop of chaos and cheering, all while sukuna stands completely still backstage. his heart pounds against his chest, cracking his ribs with boiling rage. the sweat builds on his face, and he slowly drags a finger towards kaori.
ââŠdid you fucking touch my brother?â
choso, eyes rimmed red and glossy, glances up quickly at the familiar voice. his pupils grow wide at the sight of sukuna, shaking with rage. and already fallen off the edgeâŠactively losing it.
kaoriâs eyes widen in shock, her gaze drops to her hand then to her step-son. she swallows thickly. her short black bob lays flat on her head, a black skirt hugs her waist, as the rest flows, reaching her boney ankles. her formal attire stands out in the sea of casually under dressed teenagers and young adults. and none of it can hide the slight wrinkles around her neck, or the unnerving sensation that shoots through sukuna when she meets his gaze.
âchoso said you werenât hereââ
she doesnât get the chance to finish her sentence when sukunaâs suddenly slamming the frail woman into the wall. chosoâs eyes widen as sukunaâs frame towers over her with little effort. he ignores how his hand shakes, gripping the collar of her blouse, squeezing. every muscle in his body shifts, tightening his hold on her.
âI asked you a fucking question!â he shouts in her face. unbothered by the sudden looks of people backstage, including ino, who ran into the crowd to call for sukuna when the woman came in.
a few moments earlierâŠ.
inoâs standing beside mechamaru, the two watching over choso as he adjusts his guitar for the fourth time that night.
âdude it sounded fine before, now youâre just messing with it,â mechamaru exhales in exasperation.
chosoâs brows pinch, âno, this chord is loose.â
âbecause you keep playing with it.â
âjust give me a sec!â choso snaps.
the two boys glance at one another, looking down at their distraught friend. itâs obvious chosoâs been on edge since they arrived. but the guy wonât give them a straight answer. instead he keeps fidgeting and messing with his guitar like thereâs a fly constantly buzzing in his ear. to make matters worse, ino and mechamaru noticed sukuna coming in with a couple of his friends. last they heard, choso still hasnât cleared the air with him. is that why heâs on edge?
âgot it,â choso finally exhales.
unfortunately, the good news is immediately cut short when choso notices his bandmates looking like theyâve just been shot.
standing behind him is the uncanny woman that looks like a spitting image of their best friend. chosoâs heart drops to his ass, and the blood drains from his face in seconds.
âchoso.â
the unnerving sound of his name coming from this womanâs lips has a chill running down his spine. his sweat turns cold as he looks up from his seat on the ground, quickly moving to stand up. choso stands at nearly the same height as the tall skinny woma, maybe an inch or so taller.
âmom, howâd youââ
SLAP!
the sound rings so sharp it cuts through the muffled bass bleeding from the stage outside. choso freezes. completely still. his head jerked with the impact, black hair falling into his face as the sting blooms hot across his cheek. for a second, he doesnât even process what happened. his body locks up as his brain tries to catch up. his eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares somewhere past her shoulder.
ino and mechamaru go dead silent. the two boys stand there like statues, shock written all over their faces as kaori lowers her hand with terrifying calmness. thereâs no guilt at all, just that same unreadable expression.
âyou lied to me,â she says coldly. the authority in her voice settles instantly, suffocating the space around them.
choso slowly lifts a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she actually hit him. itâs been yearsâ his throat feels tight.
âchoso,â she says again, sharper this time. âiâm speaking to you.â
his eyes flick up properly now, confusion and disbelief behind his eyes as he finally looks at her. then instinctively, his gaze darts toward ino and mechamaru.
his jaw clenches.
âcan we talk after?â he mutters quickly, voice rougher than normal. âiâm about to go upââ
âno. weâre talking now.â
her fingers wrap around his wrist immediately. it tightens, making choso stiffen as she pulls him toward the farther corner backstage, away from the noise and people passing through, heels clicking.
the second theyâre out of earshot, mechamaruâs neck nearly snaps as he whirls toward ino. âwhy is she here?!â he whisper-shouts.
ino throws his arms up, drumsticks still clutched in one hand. âi donât know! that was a hard fucking slap tooââ
both boys suddenly glance back toward the corner kaori dragged choso to, heâs sitting on a stool as she stands in front of him. and the reality settles ugly in their stomachs. maybe this is exactly why sukuna didnât want choso around her alone. and neither of them have to voice that realization.
âshould weââ
âi donât want him killing us thoughââ
âheâll kill us for sure, but if we call him he probably wonât!â ino cuts in frantically, already moving. âcâmon!â
the two practically trip over themselves rushing out backstage. the second they hit the main crowd, the noise slams into them full force. music shaking the grass, colored lights flashing violently overhead from the strobes attached to the makeshift stage, and bodies shove shoulder-to-shoulder near the elevated stage as another band screams through their set on stage. the battle of the bands was the first huge event kicking off summer break, and the turnout at the rented park is insane and only getting bigger as more people flood in.
finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.
âi honestly donât know which way he went!â mechamaru yells over the music, shoving past a group near the bar trucks.
âsplit up!â ino shouts back immediately. âcall me if you find him!â
they separate without another word, because somewhere in this packed park is a six-foot-four soccer captain with face tattoos, a terrifying temper, and enough presence to make grown men shut up when he walks into a room, and right now they need him.
eventually, ino spots a familiar head of pink hair through the sea of people. wellâŠ.two heads.
an almost identical, much smaller version of the man heâs looking for sits perched on sukunaâs shoulders, glow sticks hanging around yuujiâs neck as the eleven-year-old screams along to the music like heâs completely lost his mind. sukuna isnât much better, one tattooed arm is hooked around yuujiâs leg while he shouts something toward the stage, feral under the flashing lights.
ino nearly cries in relief, âsukuna!â
he starts shoving through people immediately, bumping shoulders and muttering rushed apologies until he finally reaches the college student. his hand grabs the back of sukunaâs plain black tee.
sukuna whips around instantly, ready to shove whoever grabbed him, then stops. âinoââ
âthereâs a small problem!â the drummerâs panting, sweat dripping down his temple from sprinting around the park venue. sukunaâs expression shifts immediately. brows pinching sharply as his stomach drops before ino even finishes speaking. he can see it all over the kidâs face.
âchosoâs mom is here.â
everything happens at once. yuuji yelps as sukuna grabs him off his shoulders without warning, shoving the younger boy toward gojoâs side. the white-haired man barely catches him properly before sukunaâs already gripping ino hard by the arm.
âwhere?â
âbackstageâshe took himââ
âwatch him,â sukuna snaps toward gojo and geto, voice suddenly low cutting through the music.
gojoâs grin vanishes instantly. getoâs brows pinch instantly, that tone isnât new to them. âfor sure,â gojo says immediately.
ino doesnât hesitate. he spins around and starts forcing his way back through the crowd, sukuna right behind him. except âbehindâ isnât even the right word, his shoulder slams into strangers hard enough to make them stumble, dark eyes fixed ahead as the noise around him dulls. his pulse pounds violently in his ears with every step, inoâs words looping over and over in his head.
chosoâs mom is here. his jaw clenches so hard it hurts. and somewhere deep in his chestâ something ugly starts waking up.
presentâŠ.
âI asked you a fucking question!â
kaori raises a hand to her step-sonâs forearm. lips parting as her eyes dart over his hardened expression, his eyes flashing red, every muscle on his body protruding as sweat beads down his forehead.
âare you deaf?ââ he snaps after she takes too long to respond. his head snaps to choso still sitting on the stool. âshe hit you?â
choso stands, head dropping and hand covering his face. his heart pounds against his chest.
âchosoââ
chosoâs clenches his jaw, blood boiling.
âchosoââ
âforget about it!â choso snaps.
sukuna suddenly lets go of kaori, taking the single step to uncover chosoâs face. his other hand cups his chin, tilting his face up, and it all hits him at once. the tears building behind his brotherâs brown eyes, looking away from the older as he bites down on his teeth, and the bright red hand print on his right cheek.
kaori smooths out the front of her wrinkled blouse, eyes cold as ice.
âchoso lied to me,â she says flatly, but not to sukuna, she never talks to him, itâs always at him. âhe told me the money was for cram school because he was falling behind in his classes and needed it for his finals.â her lip curls faintly as she gestures toward the backstage area and the unruly screaming crowd beyond the curtains. âthen i find out it was for this.â
choso tries pulling away from sukunaâs grip, but sukunaâs frozen, completely still as he stares at the red handprint burning against his little brotherâs cheek. the heat builds u see his skin, sweat collecting behind his neck.
âspending time with you has rubbed off on him, something I did not want to know.â
that finally makes sukunaâs eyes snap upward, sharp and furious as his gaze cuts to choso instead of her. âhow would she know to give you that money?â he asks quietly, that tone is worse than yelling.
choso visibly shrinks, shoulders tightening as he avoids eye contact. âshe asked to meet with me,â he mutters, uncomfortable. âand asked if i needed anything.â
sukunaâs jaw flexes hard enough to hurt. âso when I asked you, it was before that?â choso looks away. and thatâs all he needs. sukunaâs head whips toward kaori so fast it nearly startles ino beside them. âIâm getting a fucking restraining order on your fucking ass.â
kaori scoffs immediately. âwe both know thatâs not an option.â she crosses her arms now, anger bleeding through her composed expression. âiâm more concerned about my son going around asking people for money over some ridiculous band competition while struggling in schoolââ
âchoso isnât struggling with shit!â sukuna barks. âheâs a fucking genius. thatâs how he scammed your psycho ass in the first place.â
people nearby are definitely staring now. a few phones are raised before mechamaru immediately starts hissing at people to stop recording while ino frantically waves others back. choso looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.
âare you seriously praising him for lying?â kaori demands.
âto you? fuck yeah.â sukuna steps closer. towering. violent rage practically radiating off him. âactually, iâm disappointed he didnât ask for more money.â
âryoââ choso starts weakly, oozing with embarrassment.
âthatâs what you get for going behind my back,â sukuna cuts over him, eyes locked onto kaori. âthrow all the money you want at him. choso isnât going anywhere near you.â
âchoso,â kaori says again softly, completely ignoring sukuna, that sets him off. chosoâs face twists, confusion and guilt and stress all mixing together as he looks between them. âyou know iâm just disappointed in your actions,â kaori tells him, voice suddenly gentler in a terrifying way that makes sukuna see red. âyou can tell me if youâre having trouble asking your grandfather for things.â
the faux sweetness hits choso like another slap. sukuna sees the hesitation and confusion immediately. chosoâs chest tightens, and suddenly sukunaâs moving again.
âstop fucking talking to him like that,â he snarls, voice low and shaking with fury. âjusâ âcause he answered your texts doesnât mean you can suddenly care about him.â
âryââ choso tries, voice tight.
sukuna doesnât even hear him.
âyouâre outta your fucking mind if you think giving him money is gonna win him over.â sukuna spits at kaori.
âi was helping my son,â kaori fires back immediately.
âyour son?â sukuna laughs harshly. ânow heâs your son?â
âryo,â choso says again, louder this time, but sukunaâs blood is roaring too loudly in his ears to listen.
âi didnât forget the way you fucking treated them,â sukuna steps closer. âsome mother leaving bruises on her fucking kid, making him all jumpy. not after the shit you did with meââ
âi said stop!â
the shout cuts through backstage so sharply that even the people shouting over the music nearby go quiet for half a second. sukuna freezes. chosoâs chest heaves. his face is bright red now from humiliation and anger. his eyes are glossy with held back tears that only seem to piss him off more.
âI donât give a shit!â he snaps, voice cracking despite how hard heâs trying to keep it steady.
kaoriâs expression shifts quick. âchosoââ
ânoââ he jerks away before she can touch him again, stumbling closer to sukuna, instinctively. âdonâtâ donât touch me.â his breathing is uneven. ino and mechamaru exchange nervous looks from a few feet away. âI donât fucking care about anything other than playing tonightâthatâs it!â choso gestures wildly.
sukunaâs jaw clenches.
âi can handle my own shit,â choso continues, breathing shakily now, attention now on his older brother. âya donât have to make a big deal outta something when I didnât ask for it!â
sukunaâs eyes darken immediately. âthe hell you mean by that?â
âi mean iâm not yuuji!â choso explodes. âyou donât have to hover over me every second like iâm two!â a thick ugly silence follows, even choso goes quiet after saying it, but he doesnât take it back. instead he glances briefly at his older brother, than at his mother, his jaw tightens. âiâll pay you back the money by the end of summer,â choso snaps, eyes burning now. âso you can be disappointed at me, somewhere else.â
the words hit hard, then choso walks away, angry. truly angry.
sukuna watches his younger brother shove past the backstage clutter, shoulders stiff and fists clenched at his sides and for a split second, the resemblance is almost nauseating. not in appearance â sukunaâs always known choso looked too much like her â but in their temperament. the rage settling ugly beneath his skin until it explodes. sukuna never really noticed how much of himself choso inherited. but kaori notices it immediately, especially when her expression flickers.
choso reaches ino and mechamaru, both immediately crowding him with questions.
âdude are you okay?â
âwhat the hell was that?â
âdid she seriouslyââ
âiâm fine,â choso cuts sharply. the three fall quiet, chosoâs fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar before he looks toward the stage entrance where the current band is finishing up.
âweâre up next,â he says, jaw locked. âand weâre gonna fucking win this.â
ino blinks, then quickly grins. âHELL YEAH,â he shouts, shaking chosoâs shoulders.
mechamaru nods quickly beside him, still nervous, but determined all the same. and just like that, the three disappear further backstage toward the stage call area, leaving sukuna alone with kaori.
sukunaâs sharp eyes cut through her, there was no holding back now that choso was gone. his hand snaps back onto her blouse, fingers curling in the fabric until it bunches tight and strains under his grip. he yanks her forward, lifting her just enough that her heels barely touch the ground.
âiâm going to fucking kill you,â he spits. his voice is low, and shaking with controlled rage. it was worse than shouting. âIâll rip your arm straight out of your body if youââ his grip tightens again, the words werenât enough to contain what he meant. ââever lay a finger on him.â
kaoriâs breath catches. sheâs on her tippy toes now, frozen, sweat gathering at her temple, and for the first time, something in her cracks. this wasnât another intimidation tactic or performance. it was a real threat from sukuna.
he leans in closer, voice dropping even further, every word precise, already imagining how it would happen. âi wonât even give you a chance to breathe,â his eyes are deep crimson blood, âif you touch them again⊠iâll rip you in half before you even know whatâs happening.â
and with that, sukuna lets go of kaori, and she stumbles back a step, catching herself with a sharp inhale.
âkeep threatening me,â kaori spits, chin lifting even as her voice wavers at the edges. âI donât take childish boys seriouslyââ
something in sukuna snaps again. âiâm gonna fucking kill you, you cuntââ
he steps forward, already closing the distance with terrifying quickinessâ and then an arm locks around his chest and yanks him backward.
âwhat the fuck?!â sukuna twists immediately, muscles tensing as he fights the grip, but it holds him steady, pulling him off his line like he weighs nothing. he doesnât even need to see the face at first, he just knows from the strength alone.
toji.
sukuna digs his heels in, shoulders straining as he tries to wrench free. âget off me,â he snaps, still fighting forward, still locked on kaori like sheâs the only thing in the room. but toji doesnât budge. he just drags him back another step, grounding him with pure force, cutting through the athletes strength with some struggle.
âget a fucking grip!â toji snaps in his ear. he uses every muscle in his body to knock sukuna off his weight again and drag him further away.
sukuna digs his fingers into tojiâs forearms, but itâs too late when heâs pushed back to the exit, joining the crowd cheering the current band.
âfuck!â sukuna shouts, receiving a hard shove from toji until heâs completely knocked back. the rage had boiled way over, that toji standing in front of him, just as pissed, then heâs gripping sukunaâs collar, bringing him to his face, fist raised.
âare you fucking seventeen again!â he shouts, the music and chaos around them made everything much calmer than what was actually happening. âIâll knock your teeth out if you donât calm down!â
sukuna still strugglesâ
PUNCH
the hit directly lands on sukunaâs eye, sending him back, but toji keeps him up. fist curling tighter. âyou wanna fuck everything for your brothers? do you!â
âyou fucking bitch,â sukuna spits on toji, just to receive another punch directly in his solar plexes, almost knocking the wind straight out of him.
his breath catches, a few people nearby step away in surprise. the ocean crashes in the distance. toji still grips his shoulder. sukuna is hunched over, catching his breath, back rising and falling like a beast ready to attack. but instead, sukuna aggressively shrugs tojiâs hand away.
âIâm going to fucking kill her,â he repeats under his breath.
toji rubs his face, chest heaving with his own rage.
âwoah! what happened!â yuuji shouts over the music, eyes wide as sukuna finds them in the crowd again, toji not far behind.
gojo, geto, megumi, and now nanami, all glance up, all stunned at the bruise slowly forming around sukunaâs eye. sukuna looks furious still, not explosive like before, but still pissed. the anger settling deep. his chest still rises hard under each breath, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.
toji walks a few steps behind him, equally pissed, rubbing at his own face.
âjesus christ,â gojo says first, brows lifting. âdid you get jumped?â
âshut the fuck up,â sukuna mutters instantly.
his voice comes rougher than usual, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand standing back beside his brother.
yuuji stares up at him wide-eyed. âdid someone hit you?!â
sukuna finally looks at him then. his expression doesnât soften much, but something in his eyes shifts slightly at the sight of his little brother hovering there, worried out of his mind.
âiâm fine,â sukuna says shortly.
yuuji clearly doesnât buy it. âyour eyeâs all swollen.â
âand?â sukuna shoots back, dismissive, though the edge in his tone dulls just a little. âstill standing.â
toji scoffs behind him. âbarely.â
sukuna cuts him a glare sharp enough to kill. for a second, it looks like sukuna might start yelling again, but then he just exhales hard through his nose and leans his head back instead. the ocean crashes somewhere behind them. music shaking the ground beneath their feet.
geto studies the tension between the two men carefully. âwhat the hell happened?â
ânothing,â sukuna says immediately. yuuji still lingers beside him, nervous energy practically radiating off him, and sukuna notices immediately.âquit staring at me,â he mutters, finally shoving lightly at yuujiâs shoulder. âi said iâm fine.â
yuuji doesnât even get the chance to respond before sukuna suddenly grabs him by the waist and lifts him back onto his shoulders like nothing happened. except everyone notices the slight wince that flashes across sukunaâs face. his hand brushes his stomach for half a second, fingers pressing there instinctively before he adjusts yuujiâs legs over his shoulders again.
toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.
âchoso is up,â sukuna says instead, voice flat, already looking back toward the stage through the crowd.
yuuji steadies himself, hands gripping the top of sukunaâs head as he tries to lean down to see his brothers bruised eye. âare you sure youâre okay?â
âyou ask too many questions,â sukuna mutters. but he keeps one hand locked around yuujiâs calf anyway, secure and steady despite the bruise forming around his eye and the ache spreading through his ribs.
gojo watches the whole thing with raised brows. âwow. tough guy for real.â
âsay another word and iâll knock your teeth out.â
âthere he is,â geto sighs. nanami shakes his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitches for barely a second. behind them, toji exhales through his nose, still irritated, but at least sukuna has settled for the time being.
everyoneâs attention shifts fully to the stage as chosoâs band gets called up. megumi sits on tojiâs shoulders, arms loosely resting over his dadâs head as the whole group drifts closer to the center front where the crowd thickens. lights flare across the stage, as the anticipation of the next band rolls through the audience. yuuji immediately lights up the second he spots choso stepping into place.
âCHOSOOOO!!!â he screams at the top of his lungs, bouncing on sukunaâs shoulders. sukuna tightens his grip instinctively, keeping him steady. the motion pulls at his bruised ribs again, but he doesnât show it beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.
âTHATâS MY BROTHER!â
sukuna exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on the stage. choso stands under the lights now, adjusting his position at the mic, shoulders rolling back shaking off everything that happened earlier. the crowd noise builds around him, voices overlapping, everyone cheering.
gojo cups his hands around his mouth. âYOU GUYS GOT THIS!!â
on stage, choso finally looks up, and for a split second, his eyes find the group in the crowd.
yuuji waves wildly like his life depends on it. âyou got this choooo!!!!â
sukuna doesnât wave, but he holds eye contact with choso for a moment longer than anyone else, steady and sharp. the bruise on his face not visible under the shifting lights.
choso inhales sharply, shaking off the rest of his anxiety. sweat building from the nerves and heat. and then they start.
the first hit of inoâs drums sends the entire crowd shouting with excitementâŠ
sukunaâs chest tightens. the uneasiness weighs on his shoulders as a dark pit quietly stirs awake inside him. though his focus remains ahead, eyes locked on his brother performing their first set, thereâs that lingering anger that he hasnât felt in a long time.
not since he was seventeen, standing by the intersection, red and blue lights flashing across his face, and his dadâs car jammed slightly beneath the truck, completely crushed.
âshitâthatâs your dadâs car?â kashimo repeats, as if saying it again will snap sukuna back.
but heâs already moving. his feet stumble off the sidewalk before his mind catches up, shoving straight into the street. his skull is split open by the sirens screaming loudly. ambulances and police cars clogging the street. the headlights blur his vision, only seeing the wreck straight ahead.
âSUKUNAâ!â kashimo pushes after him, nearly slipping as he forces his way through the growing crowd. officers notice immediately when the two teenagers duck beneath the tape.
âhey! kidâ!â an officer grabs for sukunaâs arm.
sukuna violently shoves him off. âTHATâS MY DAD â!â
his voice sounds unfamiliar to him as it tears straight out of his throat, making the officer stumble back just enough for sukuna to break free and start running the second he sees paramedics dragging someone out from the passenger side.
his stomach drops.
the familiar body is pulled out, and all he sees is his father covered in deep red blood.
blood coats his face, runs down his neck, soaks through the front of his shirt. glass sticks to his skin. bruises already spread dark beneath the flashing lights while firefighters shout over each other around the wreck. controlling the truck from starting a fire. sukuna drops beside his dad so fast it scrapes the skin clean off his knees.
âshitâshit, shit, shitââ his hands shake violently as he looks at all the blood.
one of the paramedics tries pulling him back. âkid, you need to moveââ
âdad?â sukuna grabs onto jinâs arm anyway, panic rising so violently inside him it feels like heâll throw up. âdad, what the fuckâ? WHAT THE FUCK?!â
his voice cracks at the end, eyes wide as jin tries to respond but only wheezing comes out. blood covers one of his eyes as he struggles to open them properly. every breath sounds wet and broken.
âr-ryââ his fingers twitch upward weakly, trying to reach him.
and suddenly sukuna canât fucking breathe, the anger explodes through his chest making him dizzy. âYOU SHOULDâVE STAYED WITH ME!â sukuna shouts, tears burning hot behind his eyes. âWHY DID YOU GO AFTER HER?!â
jin barely seems aware of the wreck around him, or the paramedics putting a mask on him, or the blood soaking through his clothes. instead, his entire focus stays on his eldest son kneeling beside him with bloodshot eyes, and an anger he canât seem to ease.
âryoâŠâ he wheezes painfully. âmenâŠâ his hand finally reaches sukunaâs hand, smearing blood across his skin.
behind them, paramedics pull another person from the opposite side of the car, alive and walking. kaori stumbles against the police cruiser, hysterical, mascara running down her face. her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused.
âmaâam,â an officer says sharply, catching her arm before she falls again. âhave you been drinking tonight?â
another officer immediately steps in beside him after smelling it. kaori starts crying harder, words slurring together into panicked nonsense.
sukuna looks up. then something inside him twists⊠his father is laying in front of him and sheâs standing.
âyou fucking bitch,â sukuna spits, shoving himself to his feet so fast his knees nearly give out beneath him. jinâs bloodied hand slips from his sleeve, still reaching after him weakly.
âryomenâŠâ
but sukuna already storms forward. an officer immediately moves between him and kaori. âheyâhey! back up!â
âget the fuck out of my way!â sukuna barks, trying to shove past him again, completely losing it.
kaori sits against the side of the ambulance now while a paramedic presses gauze against the cut on her forehead. another wraps a blanket around her shoulders despite the smell of alcohol practically soaking the air around her. she looks up just in time to see sukuna lunging toward her and for the first time that night, genuine fear crosses her face.
âyou did this!â sukuna screams.
two officers grab him before he reaches her. sukuna fights violently in their grip, rage tearing through him he can barely see anything besides red.
âHE WENT AFTER YOU!â he shouts. âHE FUCKING WENT AFTER YOU!â
âkid, calm downââ
âDONâT TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!â
behind him, paramedics suddenly start shouting near jinâs stretcher. one of them yells for another medic, and starts pushing sukunaâs father faster toward the ambulance.
what followed turned into a blur that sukunaâs mind never fully managed to piece together afterward. his body moved before his mind did. one second officers held him back, paramedics shouting around him, and the next he climbed into the ambulance beside his father while someone yelled that he couldnât ride along unless he stayed seated.
sukuna didnât even remember agreeing, he just remembered the inside of the ambulance feeling freezing cold, remembered the medic cutting jinâs shirt open, and remembered the blood. so much blood.
sukuna sat there with blood covering both hands, staring while they worked on his father right in front of him. jin barely stayed conscious the entire ride. every now and then his eyes opened halfway, searching weakly until they landed on sukuna again. like he needed to make sure he was still there. and every single time, sukuna felt something twist apart inside his chest.
then the hospital lights replaced the sirens. people moved around him constantly, nurses, doctors, officers asking questionsâbut sukuna stayed hunched over in the waiting room chair with his elbows on his knees and his fatherâs blood smeared across his hands. he stared at the floor so long he lost track of everything.
the automatic doors eventually opened again. heavy footsteps quickly coming towards him. toji. and then his gramps following close behind him.
âryomen,â toji says immediately, breath uneven like he rushed there as fast as possible. âwhat happened?â
sukuna doesnât answer. he just sits there, shoulders tense, brows pinched tight while his fingers curl harder against his palms. staring at the blood in the creases of his hands. then he mutters. quietly. low. âshe killed him.â
tojiâs expression shifts instantly. âwhat?â
âshe killed him,â sukuna repeats, harsher this time, the words scraping out of his throat. âshe killed him.â
sukuna barely notices the two men hovering around him. he keeps staring at the blood on his hands instead. his scraped knees. his football uniform still on.
sukuna genuinely canât tell how many hours or minutes pass. the hospital waiting room grows quieter as the night drags on. his grandfather quietly rests his head back, while toji paces near the windows like he might punch straight through the glass. and then finally, the doors open again, a doctor walks out. everyone freezes immediately. and sukuna doesnât need to hear the words, before the doctor even speaks.
heâs dead.
and itâs her fault.
the hard yank on his hair snaps sukuna straight back into the present. music crashes through the field while people scream their heads off around them. yuuji sitting on top of sukunaâs shoulders has one hand gripping sukunaâs phone while the other fully tugs on his brothers hair to keep balance.
âGRAMPS DO YOU SEE HIM?!â yuuji screams into the phone loud enough to blow out the speaker.
gramps voice crackles back immediately. âyou keep shaking the damn phone!â the camera angle violently jerks around. all yuuji can see is the top half of the old manâs forehead shoved way too close to the screen. âstay still!â
âOHHHHHHHHH!!!!â yuuji completely loses his mind the second choso steps up to the mic again.
the entire field erupts with him.
inoâs drums shake through the speakers while the guitars kick in harder, the stage lights flashing over choso and his band as they absolutely light up the crowd. even nanami cups his hands around his mouth to yell, whatever dignity he usually carries cracking under the sheer energy of the performance. gojo screams something incomprehensible beside him. geto laughs while shoving him. megumi claps from tojiâs shoulders with far more enthusiasm than heâd ever show on a regular day.
and somehow yuujiâs excitement finally drags sukuna with it. the tension in his chest loosens for the first time all night as yuuji bursts into louder cheering.
the two brothers start yelling toward the stage together, voices getting swallowed by the music and chaos around them while choso stands under the lights. and sukunaâs resolve hits him that very moment too.
heâs not letting these two out of his sight.
the celebrations, surprisingly, continued through the night until all the performers were done.
sukuna and the boys watched in the audience as all the bands crowded onto the stage and the promoters stood in the middle with a list and began announcing the six bands that will be proceeding to the semi-finals in two weeks.
âDEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTING!â yuuji starts the cheers, sitting back on sukunaâs shoulders. the rest quickly join, and as the four bands are announced, the chanting grows louder. the crowd joining, a universal want for chosoâs band, death paintings, to be one of the semi-finalists.
âand the final band to make it into the semi finals isâŠ.â the host waits for the anticipation to simmer, but itâs not realized with how unbelievably loud the chanting has gotten for different bands, but the loudest being forâ âDEATH PAINTINGS!!â
â
the culmination of celebration among the group extends to choso. him and his two friends are on cloud nine after the announcement, riding the adrenaline. somehow, choso manages to push everything else aside that almost swallowed the entire night.
people keep stopping him before he can even take three steps, congratulating the band, asking questions, slapping him on the back. toji leaves before everyone else, megumi staying behind with the group as security pushes the crowd out of the venue field and toward the beach nearby. bonfires burn in the distance and music continues from portable speakers.
everyone was distracted, except sukuna. his decision settled during the performance and by the time they return home, well after midnight, the house felt exhausted. chosoâs friends immediately crash his room. megumi sleeping in yuujiâs room without complaint. doors shut, voices fading until silence settles over the house.
sukuna sits alone at the kitchen table. the only light comes from his laptop screen.
the black envelope sits beside it. opened.
a thick paper rests beneath his hand as he reads the letter again for what must be the hundredth time. an invitation. the one heâs waited to receive again for the past five years.
a la liga club. three weeks training with one of the best clubs in the world. three weeks that could change his entire future. the letter might as well weigh a hundred pounds. for weeks, sukuna pushed away replying, even when everyone brought it up. he had more pressing things at the front of his mindâŠ.
his eyes drift toward the hallway where his brothers sleep. a few months ago the answer wouldâve been simple. obvious, evenâŠbut since kaori, everythingâs changed.
his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.
Dear Recruitment Team,
Thank you for extending the invitation. I am honored by the opportunity and would like to formally accept.
But before finalizing travel arrangements, I would like to discuss one logistical matter. I am the primary caretaker of my two younger brothers and am responsible for their supervision and wellbeing during the summer. As a result, I will not be able to travel without them and would like to ask whether accommodations can be made for my brothers to accompany me during the three-week training period. Their presence would not interfere with my participation in training or any club obligations.
his eyes narrow, reading over the email. he isnât asking, he already knows what heâs doing. if the club says yes, yuuji and choso are coming. end of discussion. if they donâtâŠthen. his fingers flex, veins straining.
both outcomes will result in consequences. the first is choso, but after today, he doesnât care if choso throws a fit, or if he gets called controlling or insane. he isnât leaving them behind after tonight and remembering exactly how fast everything can disappear.
his fingers resume moving.
I understand this is an unusual request, but I wanted to address it before confirming. If necessary, I would be happy to discuss the situation further and provide any information you may need.
Thank you again for this opportunity. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Ryomen Sukuna Itadori
sukuna leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. for a moment, the silent churning deep in his chest twists⊠the lingering feeling thatâs been pushed returning. a familiar one thatâs ruled his life for years. bad things happen whether youâre ready or not. people leave whether you hold onto them or not. life keeps moving whether youâre scared of it or not. and if thatâs trueâ
his gaze drops back to the laptop. the cursor hovers over the send button. the house remains completely silent. inside their rooms, his brothers sleep peacefully, completely unaware that their summer plans are about to change.
SEND
the email vanishes.
for several seconds he simply stares at the screen. then he reaches over, grabs the black envelope, and crushes it in his fist. three weeks in spain. suck it up.
â
the following two weeks went by with a breeze. aside from two separate incidents in two completely different places. one unraveled in the itadori household a few days after the battle of the bands tournament, and the second was in a certain hospital staircase that same day.
your jaw tenses. shoko quietly stands beside you, your hands tucked behind your backs. a resident stands across from you while an attending stands front and center. the staircase feels too small and you already know this isnât about a patient, glancing at shoko beside you.
the attending, your father, removes his glasses, folding them in his hand. âyou know why weâre having this conversation?â
you shift your weight, shoko glances at you. heat crawls up from the back of your neck. you finally respond with a small shrug. the resident cringes, your father doesnât. âyou asked shoko to ask a resident physician to prescribe medication to you.â
you swallow thickly biting your cheek. shoko opens her mouth, but your dad holds a hand up.
âIâll give you a chance. Iâm asking her to answer first.â you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. which you do.
âi asked a question,â you clear your throat. âI was asking shoko to ask for me.â
âyou put them in an inappropriate position,â he cuts, silencing you in seconds.
your chest tightens, heat spreading to your face now. the embarrassment sits heavy on your chest now. you see shoko try to raise her hand beside you again.
âcan Iââ the attending finally turns his head to shoko. âwe were just talking.â she clears her throat, âwe both didnât know what the policy was onââ
âthe policy is your supervisors canât prescribe you medication,â he snaps.
shoko nods, glancing at the resident, whoâs supervising this summerâs undergrad students, including her and you. âyeah, I was told.â
you scratch your wrist awkwardly, âI didnât mean to put anyone in anâŠinappropriate position.â you wet your lip, pushing the coil crawling up your throat. âit wonât happen again.â
he processes your apology. his eyes flick to the resident and shoko, dismissing them. shoko glances at you as she follows the resident out, the staircase door shutting behind her. the silence grows louder with just the two of you. you inhale sharply, your head falling back, hands covering your face.
âdadââ
âdo you need a new prescription?â
âno,â you cut, hands shielding you from his gaze.
âthen why did you ask? have you spoken to your doctor about this?â
âIâm notââ you stop, taking a deep breath. âI donât need another prescription. and I told you already Iâve been talking to my doctor. I was just asking a questionâ I was just stressed.â
âwhy? youâve done all this before,â he cuts, brows furrowed, and arms crossed in confusion.
âIâm stressed about other stuff,â you exhale, hands falling, face still burning from the humiliation earlier.
âwhat other stuff?â he pushes. genuinely confused about what you could be worrying about. âyou donât have classes or exams. you know everything. if you have any questions you can ask meââ
âyeah, Iâm worried about other stuff, like generally,â you huff, rubbing your face. âI donât wanna talk about it.â
âyouâre not taking any medication now?â he changes the subject back, brushing off your concerns to push his own out, âjennie told me you werenât when she visited.â
your teeth clench, rubbing your eye, âyeah, I donât need it anymore. I havenât had them since finals.â
his eyes narrow, you can see the concern pinching his brows. âI donât have a problem if you still need to take them. you know thatââ
âyeah, but I donât need them,â your stomach curls tighter, especially when he glances over you likeâŠlike youâre causing him more stress. itâs confusing, you know tjat. saying you donât need any more medication, but then asking a resident a question about whether they can give you some for stress. it doesnât make sense, and at this point youâre getting frustrated with yourself. âitâs not a big deal. next time I just wonât ask anyone anything,â you mutter.
âweâre having a conversation, so donât do that,â he shakes his head in disappointment. the pit in your stomach growing at the sight. âI want to understand why you asked.â
you stomach churns, âitâs fine.â
the silence stretches between you, then you finally decide to leave.
âyou should go home,â he steps to block the door.
you barely blink, the comment rolling off your back as you hum. âgreat.â
your father exhales through his nose. âiâm serious.â
âi know.â
âyou donât sound like you know.â
your jaw tightens, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. âcan i go now?â you ask.
he stares at you for another second before stepping aside. the staircase door swings open and you leave. your shoes slap against the floor as you move through the hallway. nurses pass, residents pass, families pass, and it all irritates you. you donât even realize how fast youâre walking until another set of footsteps catches up beside you.
âhey.â you donât look over. shoko keeps a quick pace beside you anyway. âhey.â
âwhat?â you stop.
the word comes out harsher than intended. shoko is unfazed, âiâm sorry.â
you glance at her. the two of you standing by the lockerroom. âfor what?â
âfor telling the resident.â
âyeah well you didnât tell on me.â
âstill.â
you put the code in before entering the locker room, shoko follows. âstill what? i asked a question and apparently thatâs illegal.â
âthatâs not what i mean,â shoko sits on the bench as you take your backpack out.
you sigh, âi know what you meant.â you start changing. âitâs just annoying that I was scolded like that and I didnât even wanna do this stupid ass program in the first place. no offense,â you start rambling. âbut seriously, how many times does this make itâlike the fifth freaking time I get yelled at in front of these residents and I havenât even done anything that crazy. asking a question?! god forbid!â you throw your hands up in sarcastic defense. you scoff at the situation rolling your eyes.
âthis whole thing is just a humiliation ritual of being a fucking doormat, and having every single person around me be the biggest ops everânot you,â you put your shirt on, pulling your jeans up right after. âletâs bet how much shit Iâm gonna get if I just mention to jennie how annoyed I am,â you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what sheâll say. âif yOU doNât LiKe it sO mUCh jusT qUiT,â you mimic her voice.
shoko, who has been quietly listening, stifles her own laugh. âwhy do you let her get under your skin?â
you deadpan. âshe is the only person that can ragebait me until i wanna tear my hair out,â youâre basically clawing at your skin. âcanât even complain about anything anymore,â you mutter more to yourself. âwhatever.â
shoko gives you a sympathetic look.
âcall me when you finish, Iâll come pick you up,â you conclude, waiting for shokoâs hum before leaving.
and just a few miles away, another incident was unfolding in the itadori garage.
âwhat?â chosoâs voice cuts through the room. âyouâre lying.â
âyou donât want a free vacation?â
âitâs not a free anything! iâm not going to spain! the tournamentââ
âyeah, the finals are the day before our flight, still lyingââ
âiâm not lying! when we win weâre gonna be meeting with producers and stuffââ
âand stuff,â sukuna laughs. âyou can zoom in.â
âthatâs not the same thing!â
âsounds the same.â
âit literally isnât!â
the garage erupts. the old fan rattles uselessly in the corner, guitar cables snake across the floor and choso stands in the middle, face red with frustration while sukuna lounges against the workbench like this is the funniest thing heâs heard all week.
âiâm not missing opportunities because youâre going to spain!â choso shouts.
sukuna shrugs, âgood thing iâm not asking.â
âyou canât do that!â
âwatch me.â
âryomen!â
âchoso!â
the younger teen looks seconds away from committing a felony, his jaw tightens, anger bubbling dangerously, âyouâre possessively controlling.â
âshocker,â sukuna replies lowly, checking his phone after it buzzes.
âyou canât just drag people across the world!â
âsure i can.â
âiâm sixteen!â
âexactly.â
choso makes a strangled noise just as the garage door suddenly slides open.
âhey, i broughtââ ino freezes, a pizza box hangs from one hand. his eyes dart between the brothers. ââŠoh.â
âtell him heâs insane!â choso shouts, voice cracking and pointing at the tattooed brother lounged in the corner on his phone.
âtell him iâm right,â sukuna says at the same time with less effort as his younger brother.
ino slowly starts backing out. ânope.â
chosoâs jaw clenches, âino.â
ino shakes his head more, âno.â
âino,â chosoâs words strain.
ânaaahhhh man.â the teen points at both of them, pizza box fumbling. âlast time i got involved in your family drama i got interrogated by psycho satan.â he means sukuna.
âthatâs dramatic,â sukuna snorts.
âyou threatened me,â ino huffs.
âthatâs different,â sukuna casually scratches his large tatted bicep, with an added shrug.
ino frowns, âhow is that different?!â
suluna shrugs, while the younger teen throws his hands in the air, chosoâs black hair is messy and pushed out of his face from how much heâs run his hands through it. âhe accepted the offer!â
âwhat offer?â ino asks.
âthe spain one,â choso frowns, and sukuna eyes dart up, not realizing how many people knew about this offer. ino blinks, lips parting and eyes lighting up.
ââŠspain spain?â
âyes, spain spain,â choso snaps.
âlike beaches?â
âyes.â
âeurope?â
âyes!â
âyoooooo,â ino is smiling wide now, stepping further into the garage. âthatâs so cool!â
âdudeââ choso snaps.
ino cringes, but the smile doesnât go away, âsorry, but like DAAAAANG, remember a couple years ago, we talked about itâduuude,â inoâs attention shifts to sukuna, smiling wide. âcongrats!!â
âwhatâstop glazing him!â choso interrupts, and ino holds back his tongue, conflicted.
âcool but like yeah, no, thatâs actually insane, why does choso needa go with you? not cool,â ino falls in line.
choso relaxes just a bit, âthank you.â
âbut alsoâŠâ ino hesitates, and chosoâs eyes narrows immediately.
âdonât.â
ino puts the pizza on the table, shrugging, âiâm just sayingââ
âino.â
âi meanâŠspain is kinda sick,â he plays devils advocate. and sukuna barks out a laugh.
âino!â choso looks ready to throw his guitar right at his best friend. âyou never help, shit friend.â
âheâll get over it,â sukuna says to ino, who feels slightly guilty, opening the box to take out a slice while itâs hot.
âi wonât!â choso shouts, putting his guitar down.
sukuna ignores him, âhe will.â
âi wonât!â
âyou always do.â the words come out too casual, and for half a second, the garage falls quiet. chosoâs jaw tightens, and sukunaâs grin fades slightly, watching his younger brotherâs expression shift, the anger burning hotter. the same anger claws at sukunaâs own chest remebering why he has to force choso to come with him.
âIâm staying with gramps,â chosoâs voice is lower. his own brain trying to wrap around the sudden information. he hadnât even known that his brother accepted the offer when he wouldnât even talk to anyone about it. and to find out he accepted it and was told itâs okay for him to bring his brothers without even asking him?!
âgramps is going to the lake with his war buds like he does every summers so yeah, youâre not staying here alone.â sukuna tsks, standing up. he glares at choso across the garage, waiting for choso to test him. the tension suddenly hits ino full force. the bickering had turned into something charged in a matter of seconds. his chewing slows, awkwardly.
âIâll stay with ino,â choso pushes, eyes darting between sukunaâs.
âthis lying shit?â sukuna scoffs pointing at ino without glancing at him.
ino chokes, coughing, âme?!!â
sukuna frowns, eyes narrowing sharply, âI fucking asked you if he saw that bitch of mom and you said no. that constitutes as lying.â
ino lowers his head.
âI told him not to say anything,â choso defends, âheâs my friend.â
âexactly why youâre not staying with him because heâll lie and I wonât know if you see that woman again or not.â sukuna takes a step towards his brother.
âi took money from her,â choso tilts his head, clearly not afraid of the older as his eyes narrow. âIâm gonna give her that money back.â
âI donât give a shit if you donât or if you take more money from her. she owes you and yuuji a shit ton of money anyways,â sukuna stops in front of choso. an unknown look crossing the manâs face, and choso hesitates for a moment. âI have a problem that she laid her hands on you.â
chosoâs jaw clenches, stepping away. âI stole money from her.â
âso you think you deserve to get hit?â sukuna snaps. choso rolls his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza, forcing himself to act casual. âsheâs a toxic psycho.â
âwhatever, man,â choso mutters, dismissing the conversation about his mother. an uncomfortable twist settling deep in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. âI donât wanna talk about her with you.â
âwhy because I donât sugarcoat how horrible she is?â sukuna scoffs. chosoâs defensive attitude quietly triggers the older. choso rolls his eyes again, gaze locked at the pizza, but sukuna catches it and ino sinks further in the corner. âstupid ass teen,â sukuna grabs his keys from his pocket, walking towards the door, opening the garage. âfucking proving my damn point by acting stupid as fuck.â
sukuna scoffs, pissing himself off as the memories of this woman flood his mind. jaw tensing as he looks at choso turning away from him. âmothers donât beat their kids, and she was more of dadâs fucking mental patient than a mom to youâ
âhow the fuck would you know!â choso finally snaps. âyour mom left and my mom isnât yours, I have my own memories!â
âthe ones when you were two?â sukuna scoffs, walking towards the parked pick-up truck. âI doubt you remember shit before you were twelve,â sukuna says the comment without realizing the flame he lit.
âI remember you going to jail too and losing your first club offer,â choso spits. âgreat example compared to her. definitely my role model!â
sukuna stops dead in his tracks, jaw tightening, he glances over his shoulder and choso doesnât back down. âyouâre more like her than me or yuuji are, so itâs pretty hypocritical that Iâm being forced to go to spain with another psycho.â
mechamaru had just parked his car and is exiting when he hears the yelling from his friendâs open driveway. ino has attempted to blend in with the couch, empty plate in his lap while chosoâs chest heaves. the strings in his heart strain ignoring the unfamiliar look on his brothers face. especially when sukuna fiddles with his keys with one hand, the jangling fills the tense air, before sukuna licks his teeth.
âat least Iâve never hit you guys.â
the response is deeply honest that choso pauses, unable to respond. sukuna swings his keys between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck and walking down the driveway. he passes mechamaru silently, unlocking his truck.
the teens are left in defending silence minutes after sukunaâs already driven away. ino and mechamaru exchange looks, especially when choso disappears into the house to wash his face.
at some point the houses thin out and the ocean appears. the clouds hang low and heavy overhead, turning the late afternoon gray. rain threatening to fall any minute. sukuna parks in an empty lot overlooking the beach and kills the engine. his hands are locked around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
youâre more like her than me or yuuji are.
his jaw aches. choso hadnât even sounded afraid when he said it, he was angry enough to mean it. sukuna drags both hands over his face, wishing he can claw at everything. âfuck.â
the word disappears, waves crashing against the shore, ahead as his phone vibrates inside. and miles away, parked beside an empty field, you do the same.
the hospital sits somewhere behind you, and your home is in the opposite direction, and neither destination sounds appealing. the engine is off. the windows are cracked. summer wind drifts through the car as you stare at absolutely nothing. your fatherâs voice rings around your skull making you rest your head against the window. you donât want to go home or go back or do anything.
eventually your phone lights up.
after another few minutes of staring at the ocean, his hand finally reaches for his phone. notifications flood the screen, group chats, soccer shit, gojo being annoying, something from toji, and his thumb scrolls through the usual unopened messages until he sees a certain contact.
his thumb stops. three days ago.
crybaby: whereâs the video of your brotherâs band?
his gaze lingers. for some reason, that message irritates him less than everything else. he opens the chat and for a moment he considers not responding, his thumb mindlessly scrolls through your earlier conversation, until the photo you sent him fills his screen.
dumbass: they made it to the semifinals
a beat passes..
dumbass: i forgot to send the video
your phone vibrates against the passenger seat making you glance down and see his name, and despite the day youâve had, despite everything, your chest loosens just a little.
crybaby: woww
crybaby: a whole 3 days later
crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me
sukuna snorts. his head tips back against the seat. outside, thunder rumbles somewhere over the water.
dumbass: good guesser
you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.
crybaby: haha uâre soo funny
sukuna scrolls through his camera roll. easily finding the video gojo had taken and sending it to you. you heart the message, and a few minutes later the texts flood in.
crybaby: WHAAAA
crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD
dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass
crybaby: nglâŠI wasnât expecting much
dumbass: rude
crybaby: ONLY BC Iâve gone to a few in the past and RARELY r they ever good
crybaby: NO OFFENSE
dumbass: Iâm offended
you donât realize the smile on your face as you watch another video sukuna sends. relaxing back in your seat, jaw agape.
crybaby: no like actually wth â ur brotherâs voice is making me tear up
crybaby: itâs so angelic esp for a hard rock band
sukuna snorts.
dumbass: crybaby
crybaby: did I say CRY? I said TEAR UP smh smhh
a few beats pass, not long enough for you to fully exit your messages, but long enough to watch the little typing bubble appear then disappear, and then your face fills your screen.
âŠ.incoming FaceTime from dumbassâŠ.
your lips part, cheeks warming as you easily click accept, the call connecting. sukunaâs face fills your screen, the camera angle is terrible, but somehow he still looks unfairly attractive.
the lighting inside the truck is dim from the storm clouds outside, shadows cutting across the sharp lines of his face. his pink hair looks soft, a few strands hang loose across his forehead. his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black shirt, the dark markings curling up the side of his neck. his forearm rests against the driverâs side window, broad shoulders, strong jawâyou hate how hot he looks.
on the other side of the call, sukuna feels much the same.
he expected your voice, but thereâs something about seeing your face. your hair is slightly messy from your long day. youâre leaning sideways against the drivers seat, cheek pressed against the headrest of your car seat. golden evening light spills through the window in front of you, softening everything. you look tired, but prettyâŠreally pretty. something in his chest loosens.
your eyes blink slowly, then narrow, âwhat happened to your face?â
sukunaâs brow furrows, âwhat?â
you lean closer to the camera, âyour eye.â
his hand immediately comes up, glancing at the mirror in front of him. forgetting about the faint bruise caused by toji a few days ago, and barely noticeable to anyone except apparently you.
his fingers brush beneath it. ânothing.â
you stare and sukuna stares looks back at his phone, âthatâs not nothing.â
âitâs nothing.â
âyeah definitely,â you sarcastically quip.
âitâs literally nothing.â your expression flattens. his matches yours instantly. neither of you budge. the silence stretches thenâ
âdid you get punched?â
the offended look that flashes across his face almost makes you laugh. âthe fuck kind of question is that?â he snaps.
you shrug fast, âitâs a valid question.â
âno it isnât.â
âit is, since thatâs what people who get punched in the face look like,â you say, like youâre some expert.
âspeaking from experience?â he tosses, irritation scratching at your questions.
âyeah,â you lie, and he probably knows that, but still he leans back in his seat again. âit definitely looks like you got a bruise.â
âyeah, because i play a contact sport,â he huffs. you squint suspiciously as he rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. âgojo elbowed me in the middle of a game.â
âsee?â you point triumphantly. âthat wasnât hard.â
sukuna tsks, âyouâre annoying.â
âi was curious,â you shrug.
âitâs a bruise.â
âon your face.â
âyou sound like yuuji.â the corner of his mouth twitches, barely there, but enough for the tightness in both of your chests to ease just a little. your lips part, still looking at the bruise.
âdoes it hurt?â your voice is softer, allowing something warm to settle in sukunaâs chest.
a smirk tugs on the players lips. âyeah. you gonna come make me feel better?â the teasing has your thighs clenching. his voice is low, deep, watching your eyes dart off screen. âwhere are you right now?â
you shift in your seat, flipping the camera to do a 360 of your surroundings. sukuna notices your bag in the passenger seat, âyou get off work?â
âyup left early,â you flip the camera back, your phone on your lap as you fix your necklace in the mirror.
âyou ditched?â
you laugh, âno,â you pick your phone back up, âI was kicked out.â
sukuna whistles. âbad girl. whatâd you do?â
you shrug, leaning back in your seat, âI punched a patient.â
sukunaâs eyes blow wide, âyouâre lying.â
you snort, âobviously,â you smile, pretty lips glossy as you wet them. âjust had a chat with my dad and he told me to go home.â
âare you home?â
you shake your head, tilting just a bit as you watch sukuna through the phone. the silence fills both your environments. âdoesnât look like youâre home.â
âgot work soon,â he answers, eyeing the curve of your jaw as you look out the window as if you werenât parked in a deserted lot. still he canât help the churning in his stomach as you fiddle with your earrings, lips parting again.
âso you gotta go soon?â
sukuna canât fully read your emotions through a shitty phone screen, but he can catch the slight sweetness in your tone. and that was enough to pull a subtle smirk from him. heâs fully resting his back against his seat, arm propped on the open window holding his phone, while the other rests on his lap.
âI have some time,â he tilts his head, eyes narrowing a tad when you hum. âyou have something in mind?â
you wet your lip, eyes twinkling as you nod your head. âyeah, i wanted to ask you a question.â he smirks, letting you continue. âhow fast did you cum when i sent you that picture on saturday?â sukunaâs smile falters. âbecause you sent me a pic like three minutes later.â
you really love to push his buttons. the scowl is written all over his face. âi was already on edge, so i was doing it for awhile before you even sent it.â
your smile grows, if possible, a devilish twinkle in your eyes. âso i really helped you cum, ryo, hmm?â you wet your lip, and the action, coupled up with your sultry tone, has sukunaâs pants growing tight, âyou made a big mess. cumming all over yourself like that,â you tsk, teasingly. âdo you always make a big mess when you play by yourself?â
sukunaâs jaw tightens, his crotch swelling from your teasing. the bulge pushing up against his jeans, just as his palm digs against the evidence. unable to hide the fact that youâre turning him on.
âdonât be embarrassed, ry,â you coo with faux sweetness. âbig boys make messes too.â
a loud, strangled scoff, escapes the manâs mouth. cheeks hot, as you continue degrading him. âsuddenly yâer all confident because I canât pin you down from here?â
you shrug, little smirk still playing on those pretty lips of yours. fuck, he misses having those lips on him. kissing you deeply, swallowing your whines and strangled moans. âam I not allowed to make you feel better?â
âfucking teasing me,â he grunts, jaw tightening as he palms his bulge.
heat pools between your legs, face warm as you see his shifting. âdid I make you hard?â the excitement was obvious in your tone.
âdonât act surprised,â he mutters, flipping the camera to see the big bulge heâs gripping over his jeans. sukuna seeâs the dizzy like look you have, lips parting.
âtake it out.â
he smirks. youâre a little perv. and not so surprisingly, you see the uncoordinated moving as he unbuckles his belt, the phone dropping then getting raised again to see the way he pushes the waistband of his black Calvinâs, dragging it down. his dark pubes not as well groomed as it usually is, and that has you biting back a whimper.
fuck fuck, you miss pressing your face there, licking the coarse hairs, kissing his base.
and finally his hand wraps around the chubby length, freeing his semi-hard cock in his car. thunder cracks in the distant, rain starting to pour.
âgonna keep telling me what to do, or do you want closeups?â he teases, stroking his base lazily, biting his lip.
you shift in your seat.
âspit on itââ
you already see his spit fly and hit his flushed cock, immediately making your cheeks sting.
âcâmon, gotta keep talkinâ to me like my personal slut,â he hasnât done anything since spitting on his cock, waiting for you to continue your directions. if youâre gonna act all dominant, then heâll give you all the controlâŠat least when youâre separated by a phone screen.
âstroke your cockâŠslow,â you command, wetting your lip as you watch him, and he listens. a wave of quiet confidence floods your head at his submission. ârub your slit with your thumbâŠyeahâŠâ your lips part watching him stroke his cock. âfaster.â
his breath is heavy behind the phone, grip tightening when he reaches the base, before twisting his hand back up, thumb collecting his pre and spreading it to the rest of his cock.
âdo you usually jerk off like this?â your lewd curiosity always makes him smirk.
âIâm taking your direction.â
âjerk off like you usually do thenâŠI wanna see,â you interrupt.
he snorts, loosening his jaw, before his pace picks up, tugging on his impressive size, collecting more pre and doing his best to self lubricate. his grunts are slightly louder, sending heat to your pussy, you can already feel your drenched panties.
âlet go.â
a strangled noise comes out of him as his hand lets go making his cock bob between his legs, his thighs flex, jaw tightening as more pre cum leaks out in humiliation. âfuck.â he runs his hand on his abs, lifting his shirt higher, watching his own cock throb and twitch mid-air. the weight angling his cock down.
âow!â
he doesnât fully realize what youâre doing, until you yelp. his brows pinch, eyes narrowing because your phone is no longer on your face, but on the ceiling of your car.
âwhatâre you doing?â his words fall on deaf ears, when youâre suddenly lifting the camera back up, and revealing the state youâre in. youâre completely naked from the waist down, shirt pushed above those beautiful tits, and your lips all wet from how much your biting them. âfuck, baby.â
you smile, pushing the drivers seat further back to give yourself space, cheeks hot as you spread your legs. âlemme see your face, ryomen.â
he easily flips the camera back. you blush seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. âyou like risky stuff,â he points.
âIâm alone.â
âstill public.â
your lips part, rubbing your nipple, slowly teasing yourself. his eyes darken, gaze darting between your face and those beautiful perky nipples he wishes he could suck this very second. fuck, when youâd run your nails through his hair when heâd bite your perky buds and youâd moan so sweetly.
âyouâre not even twisting them hard enough,â he tsks, watching you play with yourselfâŠincorrectly. âhow often do you touch yourself.â
ânot as often as you touch me.â
sukuna chokes. youâre way too fast for him, and it catches him off guard every once in a awhile. he quickly recovers, âshow me how wet you are.â
you listen, managing to face the passenger seat and have the phone propped on your bag.
âaw, youâre dripping,â he coos, biting his lip, as you run your fingers through the mess, spreading your pretty folds for him. âdirty girl,â he groans, hand sneaking down to his twitching hard cockâ
âdonât touch yourself,â you cut possessively. âitâs my turn.â
âI didnât even cum,â he tsks, but still eases back, thick legs spreading wider as he watches you shrug. âfine, lemme see how many fingers you can put in that little pussy.â
âone.â
âI said: let me see,â his voice drops an octave and that has you clenching and blushing all over. âlick your finger.â
you lean close to the camera, making a show of caressing your plump bottom lip, then easing your middle finger in. your suck the digit, eyes heavy as they look directly at sukuna. he silently watches, jaw loosening as he tries his best to keep his hand away, especially when you pull your middle finger out, flipping him off.
âcute,â he smirks, screenshotting. âput it in.â he tilts his head, humming as you sit back just a little. he eyes the way you open your legs, running your finger down your body, before circling your clit. your lips part and sukuna notices the way your back arches just a bit, finally pushing in, âtheere we go.â
you hum along, jaw agape as you curl your finger in slowly pumping your finger. itâs not the same though. you hate having to do this shit yourself, it would kill the mood if sukuna wasnât praising you on the other line.
âfuck, your pussy looks so pretty,â he groans, âso hot.â
you bite back a moan, lashes fluttering as you move your finger back to your clit. unaware of the disappointment until you hear a loud tsk.
âwhyâd you take your finger out?â sukuna barks.
you frown, still rubbing your clit, âIt doesnât feel as good.â
âbullshit,â he huffs, âput two fingers in.â your cheeks flush hot, collecting your arousal on your finger and teasing your hole again. âfuck your pussy like I told ya too.â
you wet your lips with attitude he can clearly read, especially when you add a sarcastic, âyes, sir.â
pre oozes from the bruteâs twitching cock.
still, his eyes narrow with lust as he watches you dip your pretty little fingers in that tight hole. itâs always the initial stretch that has your lips parting. âkeep moving your fingers. curl âem,â he husks, voice much lower and sexier, unbelievably turned on. âdirty girl fingerinâ herself in her car.â
you whine, back pressed against the door, as you angle your hips up, back arching as you continue fingering yourself, especially when you curl them and finally feel that spot. âgot it?â
your glossy lips part, nodding, ây-yeah haahâry-touch yârself to me.â
fuck.
he doesnât waste a second grabbing his cock and working himself up to the pace youâve set. his own jaw clenches, watching your legs tremble as you pump your pretty fingers in and out, watching the way your fingers glisten every time you pull out, pretty nipples all hard and exposed, and lips glossy.
his thigh trembles, jaw tensing as he squeezes his base, holding himself back as you pull your fingers out to stimulate your neglected clit.
âgood girl,â he husks under his breath, unaware of how much he enjoys watching you and getting jealous from nothing. you respond with a heavy sigh, tongue poking out as you feel yourself getting closer.
âgun- cum with meâŠry-haah?â
he starts working his chubby cock, wishing to death he can feel the heat of your pussy against his swollen tip. âyeah, keep working those little fingers, make yourself cum.â
your whine pitches a little higher in the small car. thighs spreading wider as you stimulate your clit, oblivious to the low praises sukuna is muttering, feeling his heavy balls clench up. and just as your about to reach the edge, toes curling in your shoes, your phone tips over, hitting the ground just as sukuna hears you moanâ
âanhhââ
âwhat the fuck!?â
you whine, back hitting the door as your legs close around your hand. lips parted as your chest rises with each heavy breath. you donât even realize what happened until you hear your name being called, followed be another âwhere the fuck did you go?!â
your brows furrow, glancing at where your phone once was, then to its place on the floor of the passenger side. âoh.â
you move over the center, reaching down to lift your phone, and the moment your face comes to view, sukunaâs jaw tenses more.
âyou came?â
your lips part sitting back in your seat. âyeah, I think i accidentally kicked my bag. did you cuââ
âno.â he cuts sharply. you suck your lips in to refrain from laughing. âcum again.â
your brows rise. âI canât.â
sukuna barks out a humorless laugh. âI always make you cum more than onceââ
âyeah, YOUânot ME. I donât know how to overstimulate myself,â you reach for some tissues to clean yourself off camera. but sukuna groans loudly, cock throbbing as he works himself. âjust imagine me cumming.â
his jaw locks, head tipping back so you can get a perfect shot of his sharp jaw. the silence stretches for a second before sukuna opens his mouth, refusing to look at his phone, missing the way your lips part, and face burns.
âtalk into the phone then.â
your stomach flips with something you donât want to name, especially when he tilts his head back clearly still working his monster of a cock thatâs painfully red. âIâm close. speak.â
the command has you closing your thighs tighter, raising the phone to your lips, inhaling slowly, controlling the butterflies.
another beat passes before you finally begin.
âmy fingers are so wet after cummingâŠâ you dramatize a gentle sigh, âmy pussy is so emptyâŠI need your big fat cock filling my tightâŠlittleâŠpussyâŠryo.â
âfuck,â sukunaâs jaw clenches harder, abs tightening as he aggressively twists his hand up his cock, thumb digging into his slit, much more aggressive than how youâd touch his cock, but he just needs to cum.
âcanât wait to see you, ryomen,â you exhale sweetly, adding a little pitched hum, âwant you to use my pussy like itâs your pretty toy,â you blush at your own words, keeping it just a little over a whisper because if it was any louder than you might melt into the seat with embarrassment. but sukunaâs strained, low grunts, is reassuring. âfuck me until I canât move, kiss me until I canât breatheâŠyou wanna kiss me right, pretty boy?â your cheeks sting viscously at the pet name that casually rolled off your tongueâ
but then, a long deep groan comes from the back of the 6â4 footballerâs throat.
your entire body catches on fire, and a smile quietly tugs at the corners of your lips.
âyou wanna kiss me that bad, baby?â you tease lightly, and even though sukuna refuses to reply, his strangled grunts, and sounds of his squelching cock being tugged, is enough reassurance to give you that final sentence that pushes him off the edge. âyou also wanna stuff my pretty pussy right: wanna fill me with your thickâŠheavy cum, donât you ryo?â you bite your lip the moment you hear the choke on the other end.
you quietly listen, pulling your phone to see that sukunaâs phone is forgotten in his lap. your finger playing at your lip, still smiling, waiting for sukuna to come down from his orgasm.
the manâs jaw is locked. head tipped back against the head rest. chest heaving. and face burning with a light shade of pink.
âyou cum?â you break the silence, tone laced with something that twists in sukunaâs gut. the phone shifts, your face unable to stop your smile when you see his flushed face. your fingers still playing with your lips with faux innocence.
âyeah.â his clipped tone isnât too harsh, but definitely shielding something else as he looks down at the mess. his jaw tenses seeing his cum covering his hand and splattered on the steering wheel. even if the phone is on his face, you can see the way his eyes are looking past it.
âyou made a mess?â
he licks his teeth, eyes catching yours. âyeah.â
dang heâs cold. is he embarrassed? a warmth settles in your tummy at the thought. itâs hard to read him, but itâs even harder when itâs through the phone. either way, you shift around your car, putting your panties and pants back on and pulling your shirt down, fixing your bra. on the other end, sukuna is pulling his shirt off, and using it to clean the mess he made. jaw tensing every time your voice rings in his head again.
âwho taught you how to talk like that?â he raises his hips pulling his pants back up, tucking his softening cock in.
your brow quirks lightly, ânobody lol,â you look back at your phone. âI was just going with the flow,â you smirk, head tilting just a bit that the man freezes, stomach flipping at the pretty sight on his phone and he instinctively justâŠ.*screenshot* âwas I good?â
he makes a grumbling noise, then, âmade me cum.â
âso, good?â
he rolls his eyes, âsure.â he ignores your smile as he finishes cleaning his mess. the buzzing of your phone interrupting. âyou have to go?â
you hum, âyeah, gotta pick up shoko.â you text her that youâre on your way. sukuna looks back at his phone as he starts his car up, you do the same. âIâll talk to you later, then.â
and the second sukuna gives an affirmative hum, you hang up.
as the days pass. neither one of you found your stress levels steady. instead, you were tested again and again, more rejection emails coming in for writing and producing programs you applied too for the summer. and as was sukuna with his brotherâs attitude, especially with this weird phase thatâs caught his attention with yuuji.
âI thought you were seeing megumi tomorrow?â sukuna glances up from his spot behind the bar, stopping mid-wipe down to see yuuji slinging his backpack on.
âweâre going to the beach today to see them set up before the festival tomorrow,â yuuji mutters, pushing his overgrown hair off his forehead in quiet annoyance.
sukunaâs brows pinch tight, âthought we were gonna do that?â
yuuji shrugs already walking to the back of the bar, large open windows lining the back that overlooks the beach. megumi and nobara wait outside, chatting. âsâfine,â yuuji stops by the door, âchoso doesnât talk to you, and youâre always busyâso whatever.â
sukuna tenses, grip curling around the dirty rag as his little brother turns and leaves. what the fuck?? since when has yuuji been cut and dry with him!?
just as sukuna stresses about his younger siblings, youâre wondering how much longer you have to hold yourself back until you tear your eyes out. another rejection email, that couldâve been the reason why your sudden stress skyrockets and then it immediately crashes after higuruma finally texts you after not hearing anything from him since you first got his number.
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: hey this is hiromi
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: sorry itâs been awhile but my uncle finally got back to me, heâs free thursday or friday around the afternoon to chat
[12:35PM] hiromi higuruma: lmk which day works so he can put it in his calendar before he gets booked
your lips part, standing outside a patient room staring at your phone. shit. your heart pounds rapidly against your ribs. you work until five everyday. your jaw tensesâŠjust ask if he can do anything afterâhe canât. unlike you, people canât just move things around for you. your fingers quickly tap your screen.
[12:40PM] you: hii
[12:40PM] you: yea friday works for me, would this be a zoom call or phone call?
you see the bubbles appear, then disappear. you shift your weight, stomach churning.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit
your stomach drops.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: I forgotâyouâre not based in the city?
[12:42PM] you: no, Iâm back home for the summer
[12:43PM] you: would it be a problem doing it on zoom?
your back leans against the wall, stomach aching as you wait for his response. seriously, can one thing not work out in your favor?
[12:44PM] hiromi hirguruma: Iâll talk to him, but I think itâs better to wait until youâre back in the city and do it in person
[12:44PM] hiromi higuruma: only saying this bc he forgets everyone he talks too on zoom but heâll be much more helpful if he meets you face to face, plus youâre a good conversationalist (js from my perspective) so youâd leave a good impression
a beat passes.
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: your call tho, i can still talk to him if u want
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: he's here all summer, so whenever you're back js Imk and I can set up a meeting
fuck!! your jaw aches, clenching down hard enough to break your teeth. hot tears sting behind your eyes, threatening to spill. you inhale sharply. grinding down harder on your teeth as you squeeze your phone.
whatâs the fucking point in meeting with him now if heâll just forget about you?
[12:47PM] you: oh okay, yeah I think itâs better in person then
[12:47PM] you: Iâll be in the city in august, is that okay?
your heart twists unbelievably tight, nails digging into your palm.
[12:48PM] hiromi higuruma: yeah for sure! and dw Iâll set a meeting up with u and him
almost like he can sense your disappointment through your hesitant texts. he sends another message.
[12:49PM] hiromi higuruma: howâs your summer?
wrong questionâŠ
[12:49PM] you: đ so good!
the bubbles appear then disappear, then:
[12:50PM] hiromi higuruma: thatâs a sarcastic emoji right?
you canât control the quiet chuckle that slips out.
[12:50PM] you: loll yeah
[12:50PM] you: its fineâŠworking hereâŠwith my dadâŠyayy
higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: u losing ur mind?
[12:51PM] you: nope
[12:51PM] you: y would u say that (I wanna kms)
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: (rip) just a hunch, guess I was wrong
a smile threatens your face.
[12:52PM] hiromi higuruma: donât stress tho, my uncle has some rlly good connects so heâll help u out
you bite your cheek, pushing down the anxious twists thatâs been eating at you for months. youâre still waiting on another possible opportunity for the second half of summer, but now youâre scared if that falls through, all youâll have is nanamiâs friendâs uncle as a connection..
[12:52PM] you: thanksđ„čđ
[12:53PM] hiromi higuruma: how long is ur program?
[12:53PM] you: till the last week of july so js two-ish more weeksss
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: u need a vacation after
[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT
[12:54PM] you: it is in the worksđ«Ą my friends r planning it
[12:55PM] hiromi higuruma: where r u guys going?
you pause, lips parting.
[12:56PM] you: ohâŠ.i forgot
[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?
[12:56PM] you: no frrr shoko just told me to block off the dates but i actually forgot where weâre going bc they were planning it for awhile and i was too busy to pay attention
you cringe, trying to remember where shoko said satoruâs infamous mediterranean summer house is. either way higuruma responds with a cool message, unbothered by your lack of remembrance.
[12:57] hiromi higuruma: well itâs clear u need that vacation then
[12:57PM] you: đȘâ
you donât realize youâve basically been standing on your phone for awhile until a resident passes by, eyes flicking down.
âput the phone away before I tell your dad,â he mutters, and though the âjokeâ has been tossed around multiple times by the residents who know exactly what your relationship is with the chief of surgery, it doesnât make it any funnier when you heard it the first time or the hundredth time â
your jaw tenses, glancing at your phone to see higurumaâs text.
[12:58PM] hiromi higuruma: make sure to stop in the city after tho and text me ahead of time
[12:58PM] you: i willlll
you shut your phone off, exhaling sharply as your head tips back. at this pointâŠthe only thing youâre looking forward to now is this trip. considering the second half of your summer is delayed after pushing this meeting back. and from the looks of itâŠyou highly doubt youâre getting accepted into those writing programs.
âgreat,â you mutter to yourself.
your feet finally drag you away from the wall, and down the hall. unfortunately the pressure on your chest doesnât leave, instead your mind quietly moves in circles as you continue the dayâs work. unable to remove yourself completely from the stress of your future.
you smile at patients when they greet you. you laugh when shoko mutters something inappropriate under her breath. you still finish your notes, answer questions, make coffee runs, and remember to ask people how their weekends were. nothing is wrong enough for anyone to pull you aside and ask if youâre okay because youâre not falling apart. youâre justâŠtired. thereâs a heaviness that sits beneath your ribs and makes everything feel harder than it should.
even when you check your phone during lunch. your conversation with higuruma sitting near the top of your messages. another month of waiting. another month of this feeling. you lock your phone just as someone calls your name, answering immediately.
it all keeps moving, dragging you along. the routine sucking you in. driving home as shoko talks from the passenger seat about the residents. about a movie she wants to watch. about a patient that yelled at her. about her not fully confident about her mcat studying methods. you nod and laugh, chiming in.
thatâs how it goes in the mornings. driving at six am, music playing softly through the speakers. your eyes randomly burning behind your sunglasses, making you blink, unable to stop the tears from gathering for no apparent reason other than you can shake this heaviness on your chest. but itâs easy to wipe beneath your eyes during the red light. shoko doesnât notice.
even at home, your sister asks how your day is, if you ate, how dad is, and you answer shortly without much thought. jennie watches you for a moment longer. her eyes lingering, opening her mouth like sheâs going to say something before deciding against it. especially when you quietly play with yazzy now. playing with her barbieâs clothes in silence, clearly not fully present, but still able to pull a smile for your niece.
âfix her hair now!â yazzy shoves another barbie in your hand, the gum stuck to the ends making you scowl.
âwhy is there candy all over them?â you lightly scold, making yazzy cover her face with a doll, bashful and guilty.
âit was an accident!â she giggles, making you tsk lightly, giving her a faux disappointed look which earns you another loud giggle from her.
jennie quietly watches from the living room, eyes softening. sheâs been gone for some time, but her concerns are present, so when shoko walks into the kitchen, her attention shifts momentarily.
âquestion,â jennie glances at the brunette. shoko hums, looking over her shoulder from the fridge. âhow upset is she? because sheâs working with our dad?â
shoko glances at you in the living room, the tv playing masking the conversation in the kitchen. âshe hates it.â
jennie hums, looking down at her nails. âshe said that?â
shoko nods, âshe takes it on the chin though, but yeahâŠshe hates it. she usually complains then feels guilty for complaining.â
that seems to twist something inside jennie, her jaw clenching. âyeahâŠsheâs an idiot.â she mutters, hand rubbing her face. âthereâs only so much you can tell her and she still wonât listen.â jennie stands straight. âitâs her life.â
shoko doesnât respond. instead watching as jennie calls her daughter to head back to the hotel, and once they leave the house quiets, and youâre left alone with yourself.
you brush your teeth while staring into the bathroom mirror, foam gathering at the corners of your mouth as your reflection stares back. the faucet runs as you tilt your head. you look the sameâŠsame face, eyes, person â thereâs no visible proof that anything is changing beneath your skin. butâŠyou wonder if everyone else feels this way. is everyone secretly mourning versions of themselves they havenât even become yet. are they walking around pretending everything is okay too? do they also hate where the direction of their lives are heading? can they even see what path theyâve takenâ
you spit into the sink, washing your face.
once you crawl into bed, your room finally settles, feeling the darkness press close. and once again, your chest tightens. you think about the mcats. about the future. about all the people your age collecting internships and recommendations and certainty. you think about your fatherâs anxieties of your future. your motherâs concern. jennieâs harsh wordsâ
you turn onto your sideâŠthen your backâŠthen your other side. thenâŠyour eyes sting.
the tears build on their own, as they always do. your throat drying as you feel the warm liquid slide onto the pillow. youâre not sobbing. you donât even know what youâre crying over. nothings happened. but eventually, sleep takes you.
âare you excited for college?â âwhat are you majoring in?â âyouâre going to be a doctor, right?â âisnât your dad a really good surgeon? my dad wants me to go into med school, but i donât think i have the patience.â
the high school girls are packed into the locker room before gym, voices bouncing off metal lockers and tiled floors. someoneâs trying to braid their ponytail in the mirror. another girl is complaining about wanting to get out of this gym period.
âwait, did they release decisions yet?â
âcan your dad help me out when iâm looking for an internship?â
âyeah, you always work for your dad, so itâs not fair.â
âiâm jealous.â
your seventeen year old brain can only laugh, âitâs not like that,â you say automatically. but your friends only seem to double down. marking all your âwinsâ on one person who isnât you.
âmust be nice having your whole life figured out.â
the pressure in your chest tightens. you blink. youâve heard these conversations a hundred times, so you should be used to them by now. but something tight twists in your chest. your fingers fumble with the combination lock on your gym locker. the metal slipping beneath your hands.
âyou okay?â
âyeah,â your voice comes out too fast. you try again. however, it becomes harder to breathe, your vision blurring around the edges.
âshit!â your friend moves back just as you hit the lockers, falling to your knees as you grab your chest. is this a heart attack? people have heart attacks. can a high schooler have one? your dad would knowâ
âi canât breathe.â the words tear out of your throat. your heart pounds harder, your fingers feel tingly and your head lightheaded.
âi canât breathe.â you try again. nothing is coming out. air wonât come in. your hands shake violently, chest twisting.
âsomeone get the nurse!â
âsheâs cryingââ
you donât feel the tears spill down your face before you even realize youâre crying. your chest hurts, your head spins, and the girls crowd around you.
â
the week leading up to the trip moved strangely, it was slow. the days blurred together as each individual hour stretched.
sukuna picked up more shifts at the bar, the smell of beer and musk clinging to his clothes long after he got home. when he wasnât working, he was on the field by the beach, shirt sticking to his back beneath the summer sun as he played against whoever was willing to challenge him. usually it was gojo and geto. sometimes yuuji joined him, always laughing, but sukuna could feel the subtle shift. the kid lingered lessâŠasked fewer questions, and as close as he is with gramps, even he wasnât telling wasuke the full answer. and that was starting to make sukuna a little on edge.
then there was choso. it was inevitable after their argument. choso went out of his way to avoid his older brother and buried himself in rehearsals for the upcoming semifinals, spending more nights at inoâs, then with yuuji or gramps.
meanwhile, youâve settled deeper into a routine. the hospital shifts, and early mornings that made you want to claw your eyes out. the drives with shoko that always eased you a bit. but then there was the wedding that jennie came for. and every aunt and family friend had something to ask. was there anyone special? were you talking to someone? how is it going into your senior year of undergrad? had you started studying for the mcat? have you taken the mcat yet?
your mother brushed them off, while your sister laughed because dating felt like the last thing on your mind. you smiled through it all, even as your stomach twisted tighter with every question you couldnât answer honestly.
and then there was your father. heâd become quieter after the incident in the staircase, polite but distant in a way that unsettled you more. is he disappointed you arenât taking the mcat yet? did one of the residents say something about your performance? you donât ask. you just keep the questions with you, swirling in your mind whenever you see him.
none of the stress eases. not even when you quietly see sukuna in gojoâs ig stories. not even when yazzy tries to teach you and shoko a new dance move sheâs learning. not even when your sister finally heads to the airport. none of it seemed to scratch that itch that kept your mind loud and irritating.
âdid you get any sleep?â shoko pulls her shirt off, slipping into her scrubs. you stifle a yawn, shaking your head as you pull your scrub pants up. shoko yawns along with you, but exhales loudly afterwards. shaking her hands as she gives you smile. âlast day though!â
your lips part, eyes widening, âoh snap.â and maybe that was what you needed because youâre suddenly smiling with shoko, laughing as you look at your phone. âlast day!â
shoko hums, smiling wider as you both start dancing. and that definitely could be considered the longest, and best day of your week. and before you can blink, youâve packed your suitcases and kissed your mom goodbye as she drops you and shoko off at the airport.
and with full unbridled honesty, you knew the best part of this trip was the excuse of being away from everything and everyone, and thatâs what youâve convinced yourself is what you need.
even after hours trapped in a middle seat, struggling to fall asleep, awkwardly folding yourself away from the men occupying both armrests beside you, you endure it. by the time the plane lands, your eyes burn with exhaustion and dark circles sit beneath them. the warm air greets you outside carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen.
you and shoko collect your luggage in a daze, exchanging tired glances until your attention catches on a sharply dressed man near the exit, holding a sign with both your names.
and thatâs when your oasis begins.
the drive stretches along the coastline, blue water glittering beneath the afternoon sun. the mediterranean houses blur past the windows. shoko rests her cheek against her fist while you stare outside, feeling something inside your chest tighten again. whatâre you even taking a vacation for?
you turn the corner into the neighborhood and your jaw drops. a villa sits at the end of the hillside like something straight out of a movie, and beyond the property is the ocean stretching endlessly, waves crashing.
ââŠyouâre kidding,â you breathe.
shoko lets out a low whistle, stepping out of the car, âi forgot how disgustingly rich he is.â
the front doors slide open before either of you can fully process the sight, grabbing your suitcases.
âwell, well, well!â
of course, the first thing you see is satoru gojo. he stands at the entrance wearing nothing but black swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his white hair, arms spread wide like heâs welcoming royalty into his kingdom. his skin is slightly tanned, abs glistening, and veins crawling up his forearms.
âtook you guys long enough,â he announces obnoxiously. âiâve been suffering all alone.â
âyouâve been posting pool pictures for three days with everyone,â shoko deadpans.
âbut weâre still missing people,â gojo rebuts.
shoko laughs despite herself, stepping forward to wrap him in a quick hug. gojo squeezes her dramatically before turning his full attention toward you, whoâs still dragging your suitcase across the polished floors, gaze darting between the towering ceilings, the sweeping staircase, and the ocean visible through the open living room.
ââŠwhat the hell,â you murmur. âthis is insane.â
gojoâs grin somehow widens, âi know.â
you finally look at him properly, âthanks for letting me join,â you say, sincerity slipping into your voice before you can stop it. âseriously.â
for a brief moment, he looks genuinely touched, thenâ âwell, itâs the least i can do,â he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. âiâll just need significantly more praise from you and sho for being such a generous, handsome hostââ
âsure,â you cut him off easily, making him pout. but you finally step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a greeting hug anyway. âthank you, satoru.â
the complaint dies in his throat. âyouâre welcome,â he says quickly but sounding almost suspicious of your sincerity before recovering instantly. âsee? this is why youâre my favorite guest.â
âsure,â you sarcastically hum. âIâm just guessing you say that to everyone.â
âi do not.â
âyou literally called utahime your favorite yesterday on facetime,â shoko points out.
âthat was an obvious lie,â gojo shrugs.
âyou definitely told geto he was your favorite,â shoko adds quickly.
gojo points, âheâs my favorite best friend.â
you glance between them, exhausted laughter bubbling out of you despite the lingering ache behind your eyes. sunlight pouring through the windows.
your suitcase stands forgotten by the doorway. somewhere outside, waves crash against the shore. and as gojo continues arguing with shoko about favoritism while leading you deeper into the villa. more people start coming into view.
âahhh!! finally!!â a familiar voice booms, suddenly seeing a blur before youâre being engulfed in a hug by utahime. âitâs been hell with just these guys!â
gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, âwhy donât you go ogle yuno, you pervââ
the harsh slap to his bare arm shuts him up, utahime glaring at him as she looks over her shoulder. luckily, yuno was still chatting loudly with nanami and some other guy you werenât familiar with.
geto takes the attention as he steps in from the front door, sunglasses on and hair tied in bun. a smile immediately comes to his face when he spots more people. âitâs finally starting to feel like a vacation.â
you and shoko are taken upstairs. your suitcases bump softly against the polished tile floors as gojo launches into an overly detailed tour that neither of you retain, and something shokoâs already heard before.
but what you do manage to take in is how the villa becomes even more breathtaking the more you see of it. the arched doorways connecting the rooms, the patterned tiles lining the hallways, and carved wooden accents softening the stone walls. the villa held about eight bedrooms, and you and shoko barely process the number before finding yourselves in your roomâor rather, your suite.
utahimeâs presence is immediately obvious. her clothes are draped over the armchair near the balcony doors, makeup bag open across one of the dressers, bikinis and dresses laying on two of the beds, and several pairs of shoes already claimed near the closet.
âshe really made herself at home,â shoko mutters.
you hum softly, too distracted by the room itself. two queen-sized beds sit beneath the exposed wooden beams, white linen curtains swaying every time the wind passes through the open balcony doors. the adjoining layout gives the three of you more than enough space, and the balcony utahime had apparently secured for the girls stretches across the back of the villa.
you wander to the open balcony before you can stop yourself, curious as to what the view is. warm air brushes against your dampened skin from the journey, but youâre immediately welcomed by the scent of salt and blooming flowers. below, you see the large pool, and then past the trees that circle the property, are terracotta rooftops of other villas, then the coastline in the distance. you can see the ocean glittering invitingly.
eventually, you peel yourself away making your way to the shower, washing away the hours of sticky travel air. the warm water loosens the knots in your shoulders, the steam clouding the mirror. by the time you emerge in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, toweling your hair dry, your body feels impossibly heavy.
the room is empty. you can hear shoko and the rest of the group outside from the open balcony. but all you can manage to do is walk across the tiled floor, barely managing to crawl onto the bed to turn of your phone alarm. your eyes struggling to stay open as you uncap your bottled water and swallow your scheduled pill. and once it goes down your throat, you toss the birth control pills back in your bag, and hit the warm sheets. you sink into the mattress with a relieved sigh.
the balcony doors remain open. the breeze filtering through the curtains. setting sun painting soft patterns across the tiled floor. and somewhere between one blink and the next, lulled by the sound of the ocean just beyond the villa walls, the exhaustion from everything finally catches up to you.
your eyes eventually drift shut.
unaware of whatâs taking you so long, shoko and utahime go upstairs after an hour, freezing once they see you passed out.
âwhat theââ utahime frowns. âweâre gonna go out to eat, wake upââ
utahimeâs words die feeling shoko tug her out of the room.
âjust let her sleep,â shoko cuts. âsheâs been stressed for weeks, and i feel bad.â shokoâs voice is much softer, eyes down as utahime glances at her expression, then at the closed door.
âdid something happen?â utahimeâs brows are pinched.
shoko steps away from the door, shrugging, âI dunno,â a beat passes. âher sister just told me she doesnât sleep well when sheâs stressed, so just to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesnât drink too much if sheâs still, like,â shoko tries to find the right words. âfunky, I guess. so likeâŠthis is a good chance for her to catch up on her sleep and relax a bit.â
utahime nods, immediately. âfor sure. Iâll keep an eye on her too thenâ and we can help her destress in these next two weeks!ââ utahime suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth after she basically shouted.
shoko chuckles, but hums along.
the two had the right idea leaving you to sleep. you knocked out for the rest of the day, and by the time you wake up, the sun is only a few minutes from rising. you were slightly confused, having slept for so long. groggy, you sit up and blink around the unfamiliar room. the pale morning light filters through the open balcony doors, the curtains shifting softly with the breeze. and once you see the two other people sleeping in the room, you realize where you are.
utahime is asleep beside you, laying on her side hugging her pillow. shoko is sprawled across the other queen bed like a starfish, blanket tangled around her legs.
and you simply sit there, still waking up, until your stomach starts growling. you rub your eye, reaching for your phone, happy someone had put it in the charger.
6:02 a.m.
ââŠdamnâ you mutter to yourself, you hadnât eaten since the shitty airplane food. careful not to wake either of them, you slide out of bed and slip out of the room.
the villa is quiet in that way when everyoneâs still asleep. itâs peaceful and calming. you notice a few abandoned glasses still sitting on the kitchen island from the night before. some half-finished bags of chips on the counter and couches. through the open doors, the warm morning air drifts inside carrying the scent of the ocean.
gojoâs pretty rich to not care that all the back doors are wide open, you think.
you rummage through the mediterranean style kitchen until you find bread, cold cuts, cheese, and enough ingredients to throw together a decent sandwich. then with a plate in hand, phone tucked beneath your arm, you wander outside. the backyard overlooking the hillside below, terracotta rooftops spilling toward the ocean in the distance. the pool reflects the pale pinks and oranges beginning to stretch across the sky. and you settle onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. your legs curl beneath you as you scroll mindlessly through your phone between bites of your sandwich.
itâs nice and quiet, and your shoulders sink further into the chair, slowly beginning to force yourself into a vacation mindset. and because of that, you donât hear the front door open, or the footsteps crossing the brown tiled floors.
what you suddenly hear, mid-scroll, is a heavy unexpectedly loud thud of a duffle bag hitting the ground startling the living hell out of you. your heart hitting your ribs.
ââŠwhat the fuck?!â
you yelp entire body jerking, nearly tumbling off the chair as your heart launches straight into your throat. youâre still holding your sandwich, immediately whipping around to see the perpetrator.
and standing in the middle of the living room. black soccer shorts hanging low on his hips, a loose black t-shirt stretching across his shoulders. a cap resting in one hand, headphones around his neck. suitcase standing beside him, and a worn-in duffle bag abandoned at his feetâŠ.is sukuna.
he looks like he just got off a flight, slightly sweaty, slightly irritated, slightly exhausted, and unbelievably attractive. his scowl is already in place from being startled by the scream, but then he pauses once he sees you.
his eyes drag over your messy sleep-tangled hair, oversized shirt, bare legs tucked awkwardly beneath you on the lounge chair, and the bite of your sandwich still sitting in your mouth as you slowly chew. the edge of his expression shifts, not quite a smile, but something softer than his scowl.
ââŠthe fuck are you screaming for?â he asks.
you stare at him, chewing the rest of your sandwich that flew out when your screamed. he stares back.
ââŠyou look a mess,â you finally say through your bite.
his gaze flickers over you once more. âi think youâre looking in a mirror,â he replies flatly.
and just like that, sitting barefoot beside the pool at six in the morning with food in your mouth and your heart still hammering against your ribs, you canât explain the way your shoulders ease a bit.
âasshole,â you reply with no bite. sukuna hums, sliding his backpack off and dropping his cap, headphones, and phone on top of his duffle before walking towards you. you swallow the bite youâd been chewing just for sukuna to kneel on the ground beside you, inspecting your sandwich.
âwhat is that?â
you glance at it, then down at him, your cheeks warming in seconds. heâs so close. âturkey, cheese, olivesââ
âolives?â his large hand wraps around your hand, holding the sandwich.
you raise a brow, âyeah, itâs goodâwha!â your eyes blow wide when he suddenly takes an obnoxiously large bite out of your sandwich. âwhat the hell!â you shove his shoulder back, making him loose his balance and catch himself on his annoyingly big arm, but it was too late. heâs chewing your sandwich, as you frown. âyou didnât even ask.â
âyâ didnât look like youâd give me a bite if I asked,â sukuna speaks with his mouth full.
you scowl, âobviously, itâs mine. you can make your own, tch.â
sukuna continues chewing, still sitting back on his arm, eyes heavy as he stares up at you from your spot on the lounge chair.
you frown right back at him. even half-awake, with travel exhaustion weighing down your limbs, your expression pinches in annoyance. your brows pull together, nose wrinkling slightly, and your grip tightens around your sandwich.
his gaze lingers, âyour eyes are bloodshot,â he finally says. you blink at him. âdid yâ get any sleep?â
you take another pointed bite before answering, glaring at him over the edge of your sandwich, âyeah, actually. i slept the second i got here and missed dinner,â you narrow your eyes. âwhich means the first thing iâve eaten since yesterday is the sandwich you freaking stole.â
sukuna scoffs, âdramatic.â
âyou took half of it!â you screech lowly.
âthatâs not half.â
âyou have no idea what half means.â
his eyes drift downward before returning to your face. youâre sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair, turning slightly away from him now as you continue eating, subtly trying to finish it before he tries to take another bite. which he probably would do, just seeing the way heâs eyeing it.
sukuna feels a quiet tug beneath his ribs. the morning sun finally stretches over the horizon, painting gold across the pool water and catching against your soft skin. youâre still grumbling under your breath as you chew.
âyouâre unbelievable,â you mutter.
he pushes himself up a little straighter beside your chair, his calloused palm rests on your bare thigh. âone more bite?â he asks.
you let out a humorless laugh, âyeah, as if.â
he lifts a brow, squeezing your thigh, âcâmon Iâm starving. the planeâs breakfast was ass.â
âmake your own then,â you say through another mouthful, keeping your free hand against his shoulder to keep him at armâs length. he glances down at it, then back up at you.
annoyance flickering across his face. âseriously?â
you glance between his eyes, swallowing and taking another bite, âyeah.â
âone more bite.â
âthereâs barely any left though,â you whine, keeping his shoulder back as he tries to get closer. but he clicks his tongue before wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist, pulling your palm away from his shoulder with little effort.
âselfish,â he mutters.
you nearly choke. âselfish?â you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. âyouâre tryna steal my breakfast.â
âwhatever,â he scowls, still holding your wrist. âIâm hungry.â
âryomen.â
âwhat?â
âmake your own sandwich.â
he stares at you. you stare back. then, without warning, he reaches for your wrist that holds your sandwich, making you gasp loudly, using your legs now to keep your bodies apart. âdonâtââ
your free hand wiggles in his grip while he leans over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as your horrified complaints echo through the otherwise peaceful sunrise. your body struggles as he takes control, easily manuring himself onto the lounge chair, your knee keeping him away, as the other squirms to move between your body, but hanging loosely around his torso.
âryo pleasee,â your whine rings so clearly, he canât contain the flip in his stomach. he stops.
your chest is rising and falling from the struggle, anxiously glancing at him, brows pinched expecting him to pull your wrist to his mouth, but he remains still. staring down at you. then at your lips. then back at your eyes.
and suddenly, your legs are loosening, heart beating against your ribs, and letting sukuna fit himself comfortably between your legs. his hand holding your free hand, carefully brushes beneath your jaw before settling against the side of your neck. itâs warm and familiar. the morning breeze lifts strands of your hair across your face, and for a second, neither of you move.
waves crash in the distance. birds calling out in the pale sky. sunlight spilling over the terrace, painting soft lines across the sharp planes of sukunaâs face. his eyes donât leave yours, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warming a deep spot in your tummy.
âyou good?â you whisper eventually, voice smaller than you intend.
his gaze flickers down again. your mouth, then back to your eyes. then groggy, and voice much deeper then before, he mutters⊠âbeen a minute.â
your stomach flips. wetting your lips unconsciously, and sukunaâs eyes sharpen at the movement, barely blinking before you feel his firm lips against yours.
the breath leaves his lungs in a quiet rush. thereâs a desperation hidden beneath the steadiness he tries so hard to maintain. but his hand tightens ever so slightly where it rests against you.
your lips move in sync like muscle memory. itâs familiar and instinctive. your fingers drift upward, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck before settling against his scalp. he releases a gentle exhale against your mouth at the contact, making your pulse stumble. sukuna leans closer without realizing it, his broad shoulders block out the morning sun as he deepens the kiss. your lips part on instinct, welcoming his tongue.
you canât explain the urge that grows inside you the longer you kiss. the make out feels unbelievably calming, his grip tight around the lounge chair above your head, his knees digging into the seat, and his tongue swallowing your moans that have his pulse stuttering. your nails scratch at his scalp, threading through the pink locks digging gently.
âyou taste like my sandwich,â you murmur with a clipped tone, tongue kissing his as he hums.
âyeah, fuck if I care,â he so easily brushes off the attitude to kiss you again. there were only two bites of your sandwich left, but you still held on to it, even as sukuna skillfully traced your bottom lip with his tongue. his hips lowering just to press his semi-bulge right against your clothed cunt, and that was enough to note the way your breath catches.
he canât put into words how much his body needed you. just seeing you when he first walked in after his shit flight had his chest twisting, and now, kissing youâŠhe feels every second relieving the weight on his shoulders.
your nails scratch at his scalp, tugging gently just to have him pull away, his eyes watching the way you catch your breath. lips all pretty and wet from him. eyes slightly dazed as you stare up at him, face lit softly with a healthy glow that has him leaning down again. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your bottom lip, caressing your tongue as it meets again.
âyou didnât send me any more pics,â he mutters.
your cheeks flush, nails caressing his nape. âyou didnât ask for more.â
âit should be unspoken.â
you snort, leaning closer when he pulls away, âitâs not now.â
sukuna grumbles, jaw ticking for a moment until your lips find each other again, your legs wrap around his torso, letting him put his weight on top of you, unbothered by the planeâs air that still clings to him. âgive me a bite of the sandwich,â he mutters, trailing his lips down to your neck. and even if itâs been weeks, he still finds your sweet spot in seconds, nipping at it. your breath catches in your pretty throat, whining shyly when he licks the spot again with his warm tongue.
âno,â you say, managing to take another bite, doing your best to chew it as fast as you can, even with the bread being so thick, sukuna catches your wrist again. your eyes widen, watching him move your hand to his open mouth, taking the last bite.
you groan with a mouth full, eyes harsh as they glare up at him. the two of you chewing all the while his hand finds its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin.
âis it too hard for you to make a sandwich?â you speak with your mouth full, swallowing bites but still chewing.
âyeah, it is,â he replies coolly.
your brow twitches in irritation. but you still canât help the way your gaze lingers. itâs been almost two months, and somehow he looks exactly the same. however, his salmon hair has grown out just enough to brush against the nape of his neck, itâs slightly damp from the warm weather. his shoulders seem broader than you remember, his t-shirt stretching across his frame. his veins stand out beneath his sun-bronzed forearms, hands rough and familiar where they rest against the lounge chair and your bare waist.
even sitting there, lazy and half-awake from travel, there is something unfairly imposing about him. itâs all familiar, but it could be the distance apart that has you pointing out the sharp tattoos again, the intimidating size difference, and the quiet confidence of him, painfully aware of what his body does to you.
your eyes drift over the dark tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his beefy thighs crowding the edge of the chair when he shifts, solid beneath his worn soccer shorts. heâs inconveniently attractive, stealing your sandwich like a jerk, familiar arrogance seeping with each glance your way, and his typical scowlâŠbut still, your fingers almost ache with the remembered habit of tracing his inked skin beneath your fingertips, wanting to hear the low huff heâd give you in response.
you donât miss himâŠbut you do miss this pull of wanting someone who always feels just out of reach, but still appears right in front of you when you need him most.
âgood-fuckinâ-sandwich,â he finally swallows, licking his lips. he leans down with little effort, and high confidence, pressing his lips to yours again. body moving on top of you, rolling his hips down just to hear your little hiccup, your hand suddenly presses against his shoulder, pushing. he barely moves, but he does pause, pulling away enough to keep his face hovering close. âwhat? you mad I took the last bite?â
you roll your eyes, ready to respond when your stomach suddenly pierces the air with a loud grumble.
the sound has the frat boy freezing, glancing down. your lips part, cheeks flaring, glancing away as sukuna sits up just a little. âyou seriously didnât eat anything?â
âI told you I havenât eaten,â you tsk, cheeks inflamed from the sound, desperately trying to ignore the caresses of sukunaâs hand under your shirt, thumb brushing your torso, suddenly pushing the material of t-shirt higher revealing more of your torso.
the air grows awkwardly uncomfortable, neither of you saying a word, and him not responding has you growing slightly more aware of the position he has you in. you donât want to address it, you seriously, strongly, want to ignore how heâd just made himself comfortable with touching you after being apart for weeks. but that sudden thought as you pushing yourself up.
your hand climbs up his chest, curling your fist around his collar. and with little resistance, you tug him towards you.
âIâll make another sandwich,â you mutter, your pretty chest rising with each breath. âyou can keep kissing meâŠâ his eyes flick between yours, theyâre heavy with either exhaustion, lust, or both, but then you whisper the precious words heâs been dreaming of hearing this close, with your warmth wrapping around him, and your scent making his head spin⊠âplease, ryo.â
his lips twitch up, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close from under your shirt. then your heart skips a beat. his head tucks down to your shoulder, burying his face there, pulling you to his chest.
your lips part, cheeks burning hot as he hugs you closer. his fingers dig possessively around your waist, bicep flexing around.
the summer breeze wraps around you. heart beating aggressively against your chest. fingers twitching trapped between your bodies, his hot breath fans against your neck. seagulls fly above you, the sky clear as day. but none of it can be fully processed, not when sukuna is hugging you like itâs been years since youâve seen each other.
ârââ you stop yourself when a warm kiss is pressed against your neck. then another. his hand brushes up and down your warm torso, making you always aware of his presence. slowly trailing kisses up your neck, subtly inhaling more of your flowery scent.
his cheeks sting, and he feels the heat crawl up his neck as his bulge grows harder. but he doesnât stop peppering your burning skin with wet kisses. he pays a certain spot with more attention, sucking just a bit harder, smiling subtly when he hears your cute hiccup-like-moan.
âyâknow,â he mutters against your skin, sucking another light hickey on your pretty neck, barely noticeable. he doesnât wait for you to respond, your fingers twitching at his waist, holding his shirt. âIâve been thinkingâ bout how you got naked in your car,â your cheeks sting as the memory resurfaces quickly. âand how you fingered this pussy âcause I asked ya too,â you donât have to look at him to hear the devilish smile heâs sporting. âthen you fucking knocked over the phone when you came.â
your lips part in a quiet gasp, âit was an accidentââ
he tsks, âstill.â you blush. âI wanted to see it.â his hand brushes higher, unbothered by how heâs pushing your shirt up, revealing your lower back to the warm air. your skin is just so soft under his rough palm, and you fit perfectly against him. âyouâve been teasing me.â
your eyes go wide, âme?!âhaahââ
the moan has your face bursting into flames, his teeth sink into your neck. your hand finding its way to his bicep, nails digging in, as he licks the mark he leaves. his lips skim up your neck, warm breath fanning gently until your lips are parting to inhale the same air.
âyeah, you,â his eyes flick over your lips. âwith that call, and the one before that, and your photo.â he wets his bottom lip, a sinister smirk exposing his sharp canines. and in that moment you feel like heâd swallow you whole any second. âand now youâre lounged out here waiting for me.â
thatâs when a a loud scoff leaves your lips. cheeks aflame. âas if. I didnât even know when you were coming. itâs a coincidence.â
a disbelieving hum resounds from his throat. âso you were camped out here in these little shorts,â he tugs the hem of your shorts. âand this shirt wearing nothing underneath, for who then?â
you raise a brow, amused by him, forearm casually resting on his shoulder as you look back at him. âwould you believe me if I said it was for me?â
he clicks his tongue.
you hum, glancing away for entertainment, free hand coming up to your chin. sukuna sits still, surprisingly patient, almost like you both have all the time in the world. it was unnervingly attractive. but you still decide to tease him, amused by the thought so you say it.
âthen it was for satoru.â
and the moment that name leaves your lips, the reaction is far from what youâ were expecting. sukunaâs once calm features shift into a sudden disgusted scowl. the expression catches you so off guard that you suddenly burst out laughing, right in his face.
âfuck outta my face,â he spits.
you laugh even louder, hand coming up to your mouth trying to control yourself. âwhat? you donât believe me?â
your push has sukuna rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. âplayinâ in my face.â
âpleaseeee,â you cackle, adjusting yourself higher, waving a hand in front of him. âI wasâI meant to say itâs for suguru.â
you visibly see the twitch in his eye, and that has you laughing louder hitting his chest as your head falls back. âIâm DEAD, youâre actually killing me!!â your laughing is so loud it irks him how much youâre getting a kick out of his reaction. he also ignores how cute your stupid laugh is after not hearing for so long. âcmon, itâs no biggy, wearing this skimpy little thing for my suguru.â
âyour suguru,â sukuna spits back, disgust laced in every word.
you nod, bitting your top lip as you hold in your laughter, even if your eyes are laughing. âit makes sense, since me and him are sharing a room.â
his body suddenly goes dead still. âyouâre fucking with me.â
his tone has you laughing louder, unaware how much that bothered the footballer. âyou donât believe me?â
sukuna rolls his eyes, loosening his jaw as he exhales through his nose. âdaamn, relax ryo.â you coo, hand coming up to squish his cheeks. âtough month? you canât take my little jokes anymore?â your faux pout has him scowling immediately, but his cock jumps at the expression.
âragebait,â he mutters. you softly snort, smile lighting up your face, then your pretty head tilts for him. so fucking pretty.
âaww, that wasnât my intention,â you coo.
the lie has sukuna scoffing, eyes flickering between your insincere doe eyes, and it tickles an itch deep in his core. âI was just playing with you,â you playfully squish his cheeks again, watching the way his lips purse together. heâs so cute.
his hands rest on your waist, staring straight into your eyes, and he unknowingly allows you to mess with him. enough that a string tugs at his chest.
âyou mad?â your lips part slightly when he doesnât respond, your eyes still holding a playful spark in them.
âyeah.â
it was a detectable lie that has your pretty lips pulling into a smile you canât control. âyeah?â youâve seriously grown confident in your time apart, and itâs unbelievably attractive. âbut I thought it was pretty funny. you canât be mad about that, can you?â
your thumb brushes the morning shadow on his chin, the stubble beyond attractive. but sukuna is too busy clicking his tongue at you to notice the way youâre checking him out whilst pushing his buttons. âI can. do you see me laughing with ya?â
you purse your lips, smile spilling out wide. you shake your head, then you push yourself up. your pretty legs are loose around his hips, your fingers gently curling under his chin, wetting your bottom lip with a soft hum.
âI donât,â your voice is low, sweet. his jaw tenses slightly, waiting for you to act, and surprisingly you catch it. and you start smiling again. âyouâre so patient, ryo.â
his breath catches, covering it with a loud, offended scoff. âmaybe finish your sentences,â he snaps. âyâ keep fucking trailing off.â
you smile, leaning close to his face. breath warm against his lips. âI just answered you though,â you trail off again, purposefully. your lips hover over his, slowing your breath, lashes fluttering like a subtle seductress. and it works. he leans closer, wanting your warmth to encompass him even more. his cheeks a stained dark pink as you exhale softly. âyou just like listening to meâŠdonât you?â
your smile is unbelievably beautiful, but his remains still, glaring at you through his dark lashes. his thick brow quirks. âi donât remember ya being this cocky,â he mutters and there isnât much heat behind the insult.
your smile only widens, âI didnât realize how easy you make it,â you coo softly.
his brow twitches, âdonât flatter yourself.â
âmm.â your fingers drift along the collar of his shirt, eyeing the tattoos that peak, then meeting his crimson gaze again. âtoo late.â
the morning breeze curls around the two of you, the scent of salt and sunscreen drifts through the quiet villa. the pool glitters behind him and still, neither of you moves away.
his eyes drag over your expression, lingering on the curve of your smile and the amusement brightening your face. heâd spent weeks listening to your voice through a phone speaker, catching glimpses of you through photos and stories, and now that youâre here, he finds himself unable to take his hands off you.
you tilt your head. âwhat?â you ask, trying and failing to sound innocent.
âyouâre annoying,â he cuts.
âbutâŠâ you lean closer, your lips brushing his, and he barely reacts. âyou havenât asked me to stop.â
something shifts behind his eyes. the confidence in your expression flickers for half a second, replaced by something softer, and something he sure as shit brushes away. but the teasing quiets just enough for his stomach to twist.
âtell me ryo,â you murmur quietly, voice just above a whisper. the sweetness drips into his ear like honey. his cock straining in his shorts, unable to control his bodyâs reaction to you. âyou like being teasedâŠright?â
his mouth twitches. âyou fucking with me again?â
you slowly shake your head, staring into his eyes, twirling his hair around your finger. âyou can tell me,â you tug at his hair lightly. âI donât judge.â
heâs leaking for sure. the clear outline of his cock would be embarrassing if he wasnât packing. and even with how obviously turned on he is, how flushed his ears are, and how blown his pupils have gotten. he still manages to hold his composure, and bite back a shit eating grin.
âcute,â his arm tightens around your waist, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. his bulge is pressing directly onto your shorts, and his sharp canines almost make him look animalistic. âI donât think you realize what youâre doing.â
you hum, dragging the sound in faux innocence, lashes batting up at him, almost making him release a pathetic noise. âwhat am doing? I thought I was creating a safe space for you,â you coo.
âdonât play dumb.â
you shrug, face still close, and fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, the other squeezing his bicep. âIâm not.â
and once your eyes glance over the scowl that flickers across his face, your unable to control your reaction. you laugh softly against the small space separating you, and the sound seems to snap whatever fragile thread of restraint heâd been clinging to.
you make a startled sound against him, one that quickly melts into something softer when he kisses you harder than before. his brows knit together, expression caught between irritation and want.
he completely steals the breath from your lungs. all the teasing from the last several minutes dissolves into something far less careful. the laughter lingering on your lips disappears beneath the press of his mouth, your fingers tangling tighter in the ends of his hair as he forces his tongue to meet yours. and the moment your tongues make contact, a guttural groan comes from the back of his throat. the sound is muffled against your lips, but the way you feel the warmth pool between your legs is immediate.
he doesnât care anymore. his mind has wrapped itself around you, the familiarity of your lips, the warmth of your body, and the soft edges of your aura, it all has him melting. and it doesnât take long for him to press his fully erect cock right against your shorts. rutting.
a squeak escapes your pretty lips at the first roll of his hips. jaw falling agape at the stimulation. the sunrise paints everything gold around you, warm light spilling across the pool deck while the rest of the villa remains asleep. and as exhausted as sukuna is from his flight, he physically canât stop his body from rutting into you like a dog in heat.
his tongue is thick and hot, slowly stroking your lips passionately until youâre meeting the wet muscle with your own. your whine is muffled, arms latched around his shoulders, as he hooks your leg over his arm, humping your clothed pussy.
âwe should fuck,â he mutters between kisses, grinding even harder, stimulating his cock. âyeah?â his hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, kissing your bottom lip with haste. âeveryoneâs sleeping, I got a condom in my bagââ
a choked groan slips out of his throat when you tug his hair, his pupils twice their normal size. cheeks flushed a dark red, and his body unable to pull away from you. he doesnât want to address how quickly you turn him on, or how much he craved your touch after being away from you for so longâno, none of it crosses the front of his mind when youâre under him, hands caressing his nape, lips glossy and swollen from kissing, and dark lashes batting up at him like you know everything. âyou havenât showered.â
he kisses down your neck, grinding slower, reminding you what heâs asking for. âI donât smell that bad.â he unintentionally presses his face against your nape, inhaling. âfuck, but you smell so fucking good.â
your lips part momentarily, cheeks flushed. you feel him kiss the warm skin of your neck. he trails back to your lips, hand wrapping gently around your neck, tilting your chin up with a thumb, kissing you deeper, if possible.
it was a scene. and it was one that gojo was waking up to. his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, white hair sticking in every direction, as he wanders down the staircase in nothing but a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. one hand disappears beneath the hem of his shirt as he scratches absentmindedly at his chest, the other reaching automatically for the carton of orange juice waiting in the fridge.
the villa is quiet. the open screens let the morning breeze drift through the house, sunlight spilling across the floors and stretched toward the living room, where a duffle bag and suitcase had been abandoned carelessly near the entrance. gojo blinks, his gaze moves from the luggage to the open patio doors, then stops. ââŠoh.â
outside, beneath the morning blue sky, was a certain someone hidden behind one of the lounge chairs overlooking the pool, and sukuna was right on top of her. the two of you were obviously making out, his head bent toward yours, your hand buried somewhere near the ends of his pink hair, his broad shoulders blocking part of your frame from view, and his lower body was rocking against yours.
gojo stared, lifting the orange juice to his mouth, then lowering it. ââŠtheyâre still not dating,â he murmured to absolutely no one.
âwhat are you doing?â nanamiâs voice breaks through the silence making gojo glance over briefly. fresh out of bed himself, nanami is halfway through pulling a shirt over his head, pajama pants slung low against his waist, catching a brief sight of his dark blonde happy trail, as he walks into the kitchen, following gojoâs line of sight. his steps slowed. âoh.â
gojo points toward the patio, âtheyâre not dating.â
nanami yawns, moving toward the fridge anyway.âi went to bed early,â he said. âdid he get here last night?â
gojo shakes his head immediately, finally twisting the cap off the orange juice. ânope. he literally just got here. i got the notification from the security.â nanami pauses, glancing over his shoulder again, then toward the abandoned bags in the living room, then back outside.
ââŠtheyâre that comfortable with each other?â the question slips out before he can stop it.
gojo snorts, âor theyâre just ridiculously attracted to each other,â he shrugs. âbut theyâre definitely not dating.â
nanami raises a brow thoughtfully. âdid they not have sex with anyone else if theyâre jumping each other like that now?â gojo tilts his head in genuine surprise. nanamiâs eyes linger on the scene outside.
maybe itâs instinct or it the unmistakable feeling of being watched, because outside, sukunaâs gaze lifts. his sharp crimson eyes slide toward the villa without warning and land directly on the blue and honey-colored pair staring back at him from the kitchen. the silence stretches, until gojo slowly raises his carton of orange juice in greeting.
your brows quirk seeing sukunaâs suddenly pulling away and scowling over your shoulder. thatâs when you decide to stick your head out, brows quirking at gojo and nanami both standing in the kitchen.
âdidnât mean to interrupt the streamy sesh,â gojo calls out casually, nanami glancing at him in annoyance. âyou guys can continue.â
you snort, pressing a hand to sukunaâs chest, just for the hot head to sit back on his knees, glaring at his friends. âdamn, but you kinda made me loose my appetite though,â you say stepping away from sukuna to stand up. his eyes follow you, jaw tightening as gojo cackles loudly from the house.
âwhaaaatâbut donât you guys miss each other? I didnât wanna ruin the reunion,â gojo lightly teases, unknowingly hitting a nerve as sukuna tsks, and you surprisingly raise a brow.
âyouâre not ruining anything,â you say, glancing over your shoulder at sukuna whoâs still sat on the lounge chair, hand over his bulge. âwe were jusâ talking.â
gojo smirks, nodding sarcastically, âyeah, for sure. mustâve been the wind then.â
you sarcastically cringe, shrugging. âah, mustâve been.â you donât break a sweat as you walk further into the house passing by the boys as you make your way up the stairs, leaving them behind. and even with your heart beating erratically, and your face sweltering. you keep your composure until youâre out of sight.
as for sukunaâŠhe remains seated, quiet, and unbelievably pissed off. nanami finds it slightly amusing, while gojo is snorting loudly. âthatâs how much you wanna get in her pantsâI just got the notification that you walked in and youâre already tryna fuck herâjeez.â
sukuna scowls, standing up. the irritation dripping from his being as he slips a hand into his shorts, tucking his erection up. âsince when do you fucking cockblock me?â he snaps, walking into the house.
gojoâs hands fly up in defense, âyouâre the ones that stopped. I was just drinkinâ my juice here.â
âhe was watching,â nanami casually corrects, earning another shrug from gojo. sukuna clicks his tongue, and it prompts nanami to follow up with the only question swimming in his head. âare you guys datââ
âno.â
the room falls silent.
sukuna picks up his duffle bag. his sharp eyes find the two men, and he utters his next words, with little thought, only wanting to end any further discussion on a subject he has little care to address with outsiders.
âwe fuck. and Iâm gonna fuck her again. and thatâs my deal with her.â
his harsh tone is followed by a low whistle from the white haired man. and though sukuna walks away from them fully believing he put an end to whatever assumptions they insisted on making. because whatever existed between you and him has always been simple, physical, and convenient. exceptâŠ
later that week, the simplicity shakes just a bit. when your arms lock around his torso, fingers twisting desperately into the back of his soaked shirt, refusing to let go. face pressed against his chest, eyes rimmed raw, breaths breaking apart into uneven pieces as your entire body trembles against him. the rain coming down harshly, drenching the quiet street and soaking through your skin and fabric.
and sukuna can only stare over your head into the empty street. his arms tighten around you without fully realizing what heâs doing it. his veins straining beneath his skin because you wonât stop shaking. your nails digging into him.
âdonâtâŠâ your voice is strained, the softness still shining through even in the state youâre in. âdonât push me away yet.â
his jaw clenches.
âplease.â
a/n: watch you guys burn me alive after this. no joke, this shit was gonna be longer but I reached the line count limit on tumblr so I had to cut the scene short and add a sneak peak into next chapter.
chp 9 will have more yummy smut and angst. and I donât wanna spoil, but *wink *wink, reader has been taking those birth control pills for a little over a month now đ
