track twenty-five: if you're gone | prev track< | setlist
three rockstars! one you!
synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens
pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna (+ rockstar!gojo!!)
content: mdni, angst and fluff, rockstar au!, complicated relationships and messy emotions, avoidant attachment, HEAVY PINING AND YEARNING, denying feelings, reader is a mess, conflicting emotions, more of all them suffering, tension and teasing
a/n: art by @torucider !! div by @/tsumiinum
There had to be an ending to the seemingly bottomless pit of bad decisions you'd been making lately.
But every day you were more fucking scared you weren't at rock bottom yet.
How much lower could you go?
Especially when you were already sitting at your ex's dining table and ignoring the constant buzzing of your phone on the closest counter.
Why look when you knew what would be waiting there?
Sukuna asking you to come back. To speak to him like a mature adult instead of acting like an avoidant child who couldn't handle confrontation.
But if you did, would that be it?
Inviting the real ending you'd been desperately trying to ignore?
"Shoko said she'd keep the girls tonight," Suguru called out, examining a bottle of wine before putting it back on his nice rack and grabbing a different one.
You were surprised he still bought the brand you liked.
A little stunned at how smoothly you seemed to slip back into the old swing of things. He had picked you up from the street less than ten minutes after you called, hurrying to open the door for you and asking you what felt like a hundred questions all to confirm you were really okay before bringing you back home.
You lied, of course.
Okay was no longer a word that could be applied to you. But being back with him was about as close as you could get.
He took you back to his place, half-shoved you into the bathroom with that stern stare of his, insisting that you take a warm shower and get changed while he washed your wet clothes. By the time you got back out, food had already been delivered. Sit out all nicely on the table as if this was some pre-planned get together instead of him rescuing you from yourself once more.
"I'm sorry for calling you like that," you awkwardly apologized, curling up in the seat as you opened up your to-go box, a comforting scent wafting up from it.
"You can always call me," he casually replied, unbothered by you just intruding on his evening. "If you need me-"
You didn't want to need him.
To need any of them.
You used to be completely fucking fine on your own. And here you were, shivering and feeling like a total stranger in someone else's home because you couldn't handle your problems by yourself.
"You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch," Suguru continued, offering up even more assistance as you tried to train yourself not to let the heat rise to your face at his unnecessary generosity.
"I'm really-"
"I'm not trying to be an asshole, but do you really think you should be alone right now?" He asked, arching up an eyebrow as he poured himself a glass of wine.
You hesitated, swallowing your pride as you considered the unfortunately not entirely unlikely possibility you'd end up on the phone with Satoru or Sukuna if he returned you to the lonely apartment thatstill didn't really feel like home.
"Just pour me a drink too," you muttered.
Suguru was too nice to say no to you.
Even though he probably knew as well as you that you weren't going to find what you wanted in the bottom of a wine glass.
You watched his hands when he grabbed you the cup you used to like back when you practically lived here, how the veins and tendons flexed as he carefully poured a pitiful amount in, like he didn't want you to think he was trying to get you drunk.
Your cautious man still playing his own games. Still preoccupied with how things looked - and you got stuck in how things were.
How were you ever supposed to get to how you wanted them to be?
"Can I ask why you called me?" Suguru finally asked the one question he'd been avoiding as he took the seat next to yours, taking a sip out of his glass as the hard edge of the table pressed into your calves. Knees scrunched close to your chest, stabbing purposelessly at the food in your box as you tried to think of an excuse that wouldn't make this whole thing, well, messier.
"You were who I thought of," you shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip as the scent of him clung to your skin. His t-shirt hanging loose on your frame, skin still damp and sticky as you shuffled in the familiar kitchen seat.
For a second, you felt like you were back in the therapist's office, heart laid bare for someone to break, feeling the scrutiny of his dark stare, no matter how much he softened it for you.
"Does Sukuna know you're here?" He carefully asked, like he was trying to decide if he was going to get assaulted again just for playing your knight.
"No," you muttered. Even if he could probably guess it if he went back to the apartment he bought you and discovered it empty.
He had predicted it too, hadn't he?
That you'd run off to someone else? Seeking comfort in places you shouldn't be instead of finding it in yourself?
"Should I make sure the door's locked?" He tried to joke, and you didn't even have it in yourself to smile.
"I might deadbolt it," you dryly muttered, stabbing at the food and popping it in your mouth.
His small smirk faltered, and you wished you could make it easier for him.
You wished you could make it easier for all of them.
Sure, they hurt you. Okay, well, Sukuna and Suguru had. But it was getting harder and harder to hold onto it. Not when all of the anguish felt like acid on your tongue, seeping down your throat and burning your stomach the longer it sat inside of you.
If you weren't so fucked up, if you had your shit figured out a little more, wouldn't you save all four of you so much heartache?
"What happened today?" Suguru pressed, and you could only shrug your shoulders.
"I, uh, went to therapy," you mumbled, biting down on the inside of your cheek before admitting the tougher part, "With Sukuna."
"Oh."
Yeah.
You supposed you should've seen it for the monumentally awful idea it was from the start instead of just accepting to acquiesce Sukuna after the whole 'surprising you with a brand new fucking apartment' thing.
"Guess it didn't go well?" He wryly replied, and you almost rolled your eyes.
"That obvious?" You exhaled, pushing the food around before forcing yourself to look up at him. "I kinda ran away."
"You tend to do that," Suguru unhelpfully remarked, your lips pressing in a thin line as you found yourself tempted to fling a forkful of food back at him.
"You're so funny," you sarcastically commented, squinting at him just for him to give you that annoyingly charming smirk you wouldn't admit you missed.
"And yet you're not saying I'm wrong," he hummed, bringing his wine glass back to his lips.
Taking a swig of your own was better than agreeing with him.
Letting the bitter taste takeover your tongue so you didn't have to stew on the regret festering there already. All the what-ifs being back in his house brought up, wondering how things might have played out if you just made a few different decisions back then.
"You know," Suguru continued when he carefully placed his glass back down. "Shoko knows a couple good ones, if you didn't like the therapist or-"
It was sweet of him to assume the therapist was the problem instead of you.
"You might benefit more from some solo sessions," he kept going, still trying to take care of you long after you left him. Picking up all the broken pieces and doing his best to glue them back together.
Was it guilt?
Or had losing you simply made him a better person?
Jesus, this fucking sucked.
How come they only got their shit together after you? Why couldn't they work it out when you were with them? Why were you the only one still shattered?
You never asked for either of them.
They had given themselves to you and fucking screwed you over once it was done.
"Can you be, like, awful for five minutes?" You huffed, scowling at him as you forced a sharp exhale out of your nose.
His lips parted in a surprised 'o', dark eyes narrowing like he was trying to work out what you meant by that. "Why-"
"It's so annoying that you get to be all mature and perfect after we break up," you admitted, picking at your cuticles beneath the table as you glanced back to where your purse was laying on its side.
"Perfect?"
"It's so infuriating sometimes," you mumbled under your breath, shaking your head as you interrupted him, about to reiterate that he was infuriating before he let out a low chuckle.
"Do you want me to be mean to you?" He offered in that honeyed voice of his.
"I want to be mad at you," you muttered, feeling a lot more defeated than you expected.
"You can be mad at me," he calmly accepted it, evenly meeting your stare as if you being upset was better than the alternative of you feeling nothing at all for him.
You tried to switch to ignoring him.
Finishing your food with a tight-lipped frown and polishing off the wine even though it just left an uncomfortable heat compressing your chest. You slipped out of your chair to go throw away the styrofoam box, but Suguru just had to get up and do it for you, leaving you awkwardly standing there and swallowing your feelings.
Tempted to ask what now?
Were you supposed to sit on the couch together and watch tv like old times? Ask him to just take you back home anyway? Go back to the bed he used to fuck you in and pretend you couldn’t smell him on the sheets?
You ended up awkwardly leaning against the wall while you watched him clean up, trying to find something wrong to bicker about.
But god, he’d forgiven you for fucking his best friend.
Comforted you and came when you called and took care of you even when you weren’t his anymore.
“Maybe Shoko could refer me to someone,” you muttered.
You needed help.
The kind that you had to find on your own. With the help of a licensed professional.
“I’ll text her,” he replied, a hint of pride bleeding through his voice as you folded your arms across your chest.
What happened to the independent girl you used to be? The one who was too stubborn to admit it when you were out of your depth? What happened to everything you used to be?
The strangest part was that you weren't even sure you wanted to go back to being her. She let Sukuna break her heart. And then handed over what was left of it to Suguru so he could take a few swings at it too.
But even now, being around him like this, watching him walk around like you were reliving in an old memory, you were the tiniest bit tempted to go back to the old days. Just for one night.
You could see it now.
Almost feel how solid his hands would be on your waist, how warm his chest would be when you were pinned underneath it.
It would be so simple, wouldn't it?
To let him pick you up and cradle you close? To call him by his name and let him whisper yours in that tender voice of his?
He wouldn't feel like home. But he'd feel close enough to safe to settle the storm still wearing you down and ripping through your rattled bones.
Suguru caught you staring as he finished up, thin brows knitting together as he walked over to you, one hand reaching for his pocket for his cigarettes before he remembered that they weren't there anymore.
"I'm not sleeping with you," he murmured softly, as if he wasn't looking down at your lips as like he could still remember the taste of them.
"I didn't ask you to," you whispered back, like you weren't looking at his either. And then he reached out, like he was going to cup your cheek and caress you the same way he used to.
"Angel," he gently spoke, sighing as his palm stopped just shy of your cheek. "You know you have to pick."
"I know," you confessed.
You couldn't keep doing this.
"I will still do whatever I can to support you and fix the mess I made," he reassured, swallowing hard as he steeled his resolve. "But you're just hurting yourself."
And he was too selfless to say you were hurting him too, even though you could see the pain shining in his deep stare.
You wanted to play it off.
Pretend that you weren't painfully aware that no matter who you chose, you'd still be second guessing yourself for maybe forever.
If you chose Sukuna, and it crashed and burned, would you spend eternity wondering what would've happened if you mustered up the courage to kiss Suguru right now?
And if you did kiss him, would you just wish it was Sukuna's lips instead?
"I wish I never fucked us up to begin with," Suguru murmured, maybe loosened up from the wine to be speaking so plainly about what you both lost when his face was hardly inches from yours. "But I guess I know how Sukuna feels now."
"You're making it so much harder for me," you defensively mumbled, trying to keep your breathing steady when he was looking down at you like he wanted to memorize the view.
"That's because I want you to pick me," he smoothly replied, your mouth twitching up into a smile you had to push back down.
You had to make yourself slip away from him, turning around and walking around the corner to go back to his living room. About to come up with the excuse that you could watch a movie or something to pass the time and avoid the topic at hand when you spotted a stack of papers across a side table where the coasters usually were.
And noticed your name neatly printed at the top of one.
"What's this?" You asked, picking it up the moment you were close enough, eyes already scanning the page as he started to hurry over.
"It's nothing, just a stupid fucking idea Satoru's dad was-"
"It's about me," you pointed out, turning around and refusing to let him have it back, swatting at his outstretched hand while you squinted at the fine print.
"Baby, it's bullshit, I didn't want to worry-"
"I can make decisions for myself, Suguru," you scolded him, a lump taking shape again in the back of your throat as you realized what it was.
An offer.
"This is the PR relationship thing, isn't it?" You frowned, flipping the page as you started scanning the terms. Satoru had been telling the truth.
His dad wanted to throw a fuck ton of cash at you to get you to do what he wanted.
An apartment with 24/7 security. Biweekly paychecks for playing pretend girlfriend. Health and dental insurance. New clothes for required public appearances.
God, why the fuck was it a better job offer than anything else you received?
Six months.
Half of year of hanging onto your ex-boyfriend's arm in public now that your private life had been dragged out for everyone to see.
It was long enough for the album and press rollout but right before their tour would start. Enough for them to turn the PR disaster of a leaked sex tape into something slightly less scandalous the media could sink their teeth into.
You'd be dropped once they sold out all their shows.
Suguru was silent, just staring as you studied the stapled sheets in front of you, waiting for you to say something.
To say it was stupid and to shut it all down.
"Is he actually serious?" You asked, a hard lump in your throat as your stare drifted back to the promised paycheck, wondering what price you could put on your pride.
You were clearly losing this game anyway.
They weren't going to leave you alone.
"You don't need to do this," Suguru softly said, not answering your question as you glanced up from the papers to see his conflicted expression.
Would Sukuna hate you if you did?
Satoru might.
How much could making a deal with a devil cost when you already lost everything you cared about?
You weren't replying to his texts.
Go fucking figure.
The harder Sukuna tried to have you, the more you pulled away from him.
Still, he knew he shouldn't be doing this.
Leg bouncing impatiently as he stared down at the phone screen in his hand, trying to work up the willpower to either swipe everything away or shut it off.
That's what a more mature person would do.
Someone who had his shit together.
But that had never been him.
Jin had called, told him to come over and just crash there. Kaori had snatched the phone from his brother and told him to go find you and fucking fix it.
Like it was so goddamn easy when you were too hurt to see how hard he was trying. Too broken to even want him to put you together.
And despite what his therapist tried to say otherwise, he couldn't stop blaming himself for being the one to fuck it all up in the first place.
All the same thoughts looping in his head, replaying a million moments he wished he could go back and do differently. The thousand nights where you were in his bed, beneath his body where you belonged, his hands skimming over your side and his teeth sinking into your soft skin when he should've been kissing you and asking you to be his girlfriend.
Not his best friend with benefits.
Not some unnamed third thing you both swore wasn't that serious.
He wanted to be your man. To get to marry you one day and have a stupid little chubby baby with your eyes and his hair.
Sukuna didn't want to just be some fucking asshole you used to sleep with.
Someone you used to know.
A page in a book you shut and shoved on a shelf to be forgotten.
Maybe bringing you to his therapist was a mistake, something that he should've waited a little longer for. But he didn't know how to help you himself.
No matter how badly he wished he could.
And honestly, what he was about to do was probably an even bigger one in the making.
But fuck, he wanted to prove you wrong.
Show you that what you were scared of wasn't going to happen.
He could watch you having sex with your ex-boyfriend and not strangle him for it. He wasn't going to leave you.
And by no means, was he going to stop loving you.
No, instead, he just nearly threw up when the sketchy site on his phone finally loaded and he saw you splayed out nude in soft blue sheets, touching yourself and looking at the camera all lovestruck.
Asking Suguru for help.
You didn't do that with him.
It was different. Knowing that it had been serious with Suguru and actually seeing it for himself.
The trust shining in your eyes before all the light in them had been stolen from you.
He almost dropped the phone.
Pacing the floor and swallowing the bile threatening to flood his throat as your soft voice replayed in his ears.
Sukuna was greedy. Selfish. Used to taking what he wanted and never needing to justify it.
Until he realized what he wanted the most was what was best for you.
Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, slowburn, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit, jealous!zuko, we’re already married in his head, found family trope(ish), zuko has daddy issues] wc: 7.5k
m.list | chapter four | chapter five | next chapter
You’ve been taking advantage of the Fire Lord. He remembered saying you could take one or two days off— it’s been four. He never thought he would see that from you.
Not that he cares.
By all means, use him. Watching you abandon your duties these last few days has been quite the treat.
Ryuko has asked about you. Not directly, but to other people. Zuko’s made sure to mention you around him, though. It was his own little way to point out your absence, while you’re out doing god knows what.
Zuko didn’t want to know at first.
Unfortunately, there’s only so much patience left once he’s done playing his role as the Fire Lord. He just couldn’t help himself.
To what, exactly? Well…
“Zuzu?”
He stills, immediately recognizing that nasally little voice. Not to mention there’s only one person that would call him by that name.
Azula. She practically goes on to nag him, after randomly catching him at some food stall at the night market.
“You dethroned me just so you could prance around town in a cape?”
Funny enough, she would’ve matched with her brother if she’d just worn her hood. It might be a little risky, but most people wouldn’t know what she looked like, anyway. She could get away with showing her face for the most part.
Despite the initial whiplash from running into his sister, who’s been missing for well over a decade and is still at the top of the nation’s Most Wanted list, he’s quick to defend himself.
“I’m not prancing around town,” he grimaces. “And what do you mean dethroned? You were never even crowned.”
“Yeah, because you interrupted my coronation!”
Their sudden quarrel catches the eyes of a few people walking by, along with the old vendor that was just trying to hand him his chicken skewers. Thankfully, everyone’s quick to mind their own in the Silk District. Fights were common enough— just keep walking and you’re sure to be safe once the brawl starts.
It’s as if they were children again, arguing over absolute nonsense. At first it was a dispute over her brief stint as the nation’s first Fire Lady. Now, they’re just throwing accusations at each other.
“Please don’t tell me you’re working in a brothel now,” Zuko grumbles, fully prepared to give her some money so she wouldn't have to be indebted to one.
“I am not!” she scoffs. “And what are you doing here?! Last I heard, you have nearly twice the amount of concubines Father had kept.”
His eyes widened. Now was not the time to ask what he was up to. It’s not like he can tell her he’s been trying to scope you out all night, so he’s left scrambling.
“Most of them were gifted to me,” he barely explains, more so stuck on where she heard that from. Azula made it sound like he hoarded them.
She continued to press him. “You never answered why you’re walking around town with a hooded cape.”
“I wanted some normalcy,” he throws his arms out, hoping that’d be enough for her.
Azula raises a brow. “So you go to the sex capital of the world?”
“I’m not here for the fucking brothels,” he suddenly snaps at her, but quickly collects himself as it only made him look guilty. “Sorry. I’m here for work. We’re in the middle of opening a rehabilitation facility.”
“Right,” she blandly says, crossing her arms and taking a moment to stare him down, lost on what else to say. At least she believes him. She would’ve continued to interrogate him, had she not.
Zuko just looks at her as well. Not meaning to participate in a staring competition as he tried to figure out what about her had changed. Something felt off.
Then her brows pinch together.
It’s the eyes.
She thinks she’s glaring at him right now, but they’ve softened. And there’s actually a trace of light behind her golden eyes, rather than the dull orbs demonically possessed individuals often have. The only feature she shared with their father was that sadistic look he’d get on his face whenever someone angered him, yet there was no trace of Ozai in all her visible annoyance.
All he sees is their mother.
“So, how’s father?” she asks casually, figuring she might as well ask about the old bastard since he’s here.
Zuko lets out a disappointed sigh, not bothering to hide how peeved the thought of their father made him. “He spends his days drawing flowers and demanding he be given dignity.”
She sighs as well, because he just sounds pathetic at this point. “You don’t give into his demands… right?”
“Oh, no, never,” he says with a reassuring tone. “He’s tolerable for the most part, but there’s periods where he needs more… help.”
His fathers fall from grace needs to be studied at this point. He will scream, cry, break his little board games that he hardly deserved to begin with, and demand new ones. Ozai drew a portrait of him once when he was 21. He was without a scar. It was touching, sort of. Really fucking odd, though. He didn’t exactly listen to his father when he explained the sentiment behind it, but he understood why there would be one.
Zuko hung around until the servant brought his father dinner that night. Guess what happened when he didn’t allow the servant to give his father a slice of cake with his dinner?
His father took the portrait down and drew a scar on both his eyes.
The concept of self-regulation was completely foreign to his father—antagonizing him may as well have been a form of psychological warfare. Which is why Zuko started eating that same slice of cake as he watched his father have the meltdown of a century.
“Yeah, Father is… Father.”
There was no need to elaborate, Azula completely understood what he meant by that. “Do they still whip prisoners?”
Zuko pauses and looks at her as if she’s gone mad. “No….. that’s illegal.”
She shrugs. “Some people only respond to physical discipline.”
He hums tentatively, “Father usually behaves after a day or two of being put on a liquid diet.”
She finds herself coughing out a laugh, surprised he’d even do such a thing. She remembers the day Zuko visited her and Ozai in prison. He could’ve easily tortured the information he needed out of them, but instead he walked in with a tray of tea as he spoke of wanting to treat them with dignity— he used that word less than a handful of times, but his father continues to cling to it for his life.
She couldn’t wrap her head around how someone could be so gullible, it disgusted her.
Even when he cut her a deal, allowing her to walk freely as they looked for their mother, he disgusted her. He was weak for offering her tea, weak for allowing her to accompany him unrestrained, weak for letting her attack him during the trip. She was his tormentor and still, he forgave her, over and over again.
She wonders if she’ll ever grow the strength to thank him for being the only one to show her forgiveness.
“And mother?” she asks, struggling to hide her cautious tone.
“She’s good. Still in Hira’a.” Zuko pauses, eyes filled with both relief and a little sorrow. He has a good bond with his mother and had always believed Azula deserved the same. He’d love nothing more than to reunite the two. “She never fails to bring you up whenever I see her.”
How sweet.
And mildly triggering, given all the years she spent missing a woman who had forgotten her. She quickly catches herself from slipping into her thoughts any further—there was no need to punish herself like that, she had already suffered enough.
It’s been over ten years since they’ve seen each other, and she still wasn’t ready. But, even in all her resentment, she still found herself wishing she could tell that she often thought of her, too.
Rather than giving him a definitive no, she just rolled her eyes.
Perhaps she has grown softer throughout the years. The last time she randomly appeared, she promised to make it her life’s mission to drive her brother to the brink of insanity in hopes to make him more like their father. Granted, she was fucking losing it at that time, having unresolved trauma and what not. Being locked in a cage like a fucking animal only made her worse. The final blow was when she was released to help find their mother, only to find out she chose to have the memory of them completely wiped.
Oh, that fucked her up.
Azula refused to admit it at the time, but she’s closer to admitting it now after years of solitude. A changed woman, she was. Zuko should consider himself lucky to get away with just an argument today. Had their reunion been a few years sooner, that argument would’ve ended with the entire market burning down in flames.
But, she was his little sister at the end of the day, and there’s no doubt she'd still be annoyed at the sight of him again the next time they inevitably run into each other.
Azula closes her eyes and sighs, then lightly nods her head, “Well, I’m off. It was nice seeing you, Zuzu.”
It didn’t sound like it. “Wh— hold on, where are you going?”
“A temple,” she vaguely says, not stupid enough to tell him exactly which one. Zuko probably would’ve let her be, but one couldn’t be too safe. “Have fun in the brothels!”
“I already told you I wasn’t here for the brothels— Azula, wait,” he calls after her, more confused than anything. “Do you need money or anything?”
His sister stops to consider it. She may have some at the moment, but prior to passing by, she was pretty low on silver. The only reason why she came here was to pick-pocket a few people.
And by pick pocket, she means breaking into the homes of local lords and raiding their safes. Easy money. Can’t feel too bad about it either since they’re notoriously known for their corruption at a local level. She may be a criminal, but she was ethical.
“How much?” she asks, reluctant to jump right into accepting it.
He casually reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pouch of gold coins, lazily sifting through them before realizing he never had a number in his head.
“Wow look at the Fire Lord giving a fugitive money,” she murmurs, earning herself a disappointed look from Zuko. “What?”
“Don’t say that.”
She shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
“Just take the fucking pouch,” he sighs, shoving the bag into her hands. “And please make it last.”
“Aww, are you saying that because you don’t know when you’ll see me next? Are you gonna be sad after this?” she continues to poke at him.
Suddenly, he feels a headache starting to blossom against the right side of his skull. “I don’t think I will,” he blandly says, rubbing his temple as she begins to laugh at him. “Will you do me a favor though since I gave you money?”
The question wipes the smile off her face, she hates being indebted to others.
“The next time I see you, I want it to be with Mother.” She opens her mouth, probably to say something along the lines of not telling her what to do, but he doesn’t give her a chance to say it. “It can be five years from now or even twenty. Just go to mom whenever you’re ready and I’ll meet you two there.”
She blinks. “Wait, does that mean I’m not an enemy of the state anymore?”
“Oh no, you still are,” he lets out a laugh. “But if you have an emergency and really, really need help, send a letter to Mom.”
She doesn’t say much at first. She was actually moved for once and it showed.
“Thank you,” she says with a barely contained smile.
It was natural for him to give her a weird look, it was the first time she’s ever expressed genuine appreciation. Not quite grasping how much weight those two words held. Maybe she’ll tell him one day, but for now, it wasn’t her problem.
“You can thank me by going to mom’s one day.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Azula doesn't sound very serious when she turns to leave, but she really was and already had a date in mind. It would be sooner than five years, but enough to work on those flashbacks.
He watches her run off, scoffing out a laugh once she disappears into the crowd of people, leaving as fast as she appeared.
Alone, again.
Well, he’s not alone. He has his uncle.
It’s time like this when he really remembers just how different his life has turned out. It wasn’t bad. Bittersweet, yes. But not bad. After years of being subjected to his Father’s cruelty and abuse, everyone’s moved on with their own lives
Even Azula.
Then it dawned on him that he had just committed treason. He wasn’t supposed to let a criminal like her continue to roam the earth without consequence. Yet he did. He gave her money, too— way too much of it. Had one of the imperial guards caught her, she would’ve been behind bars, just like their father.
But at that moment, he wasn’t the one who held the throne. He was simply someone’s brother. Their father may have played favorites, but he recognized long ago that he has scarred them both and that she, too, deserved freedom.
—
Running around with Cyra has made you realize just how much you missed the crude humor and self-indulgent ways of the Silk District.
Those who served the imperial court were the complete opposite. So proper and uptight. The amount of self-importance some had without contributing anything remarkable to the world was exhausting. You don’t think you would’ve lasted as long as you have had it not been for who you served.
Although, he’s been a little too lenient with you during this trip. He hasn’t told you to come back to work once, which is why you’ve consistently gotten back to the hotel as late as 2:00 AM. You very well may be pushing your luck, but he never set a curfew for you and neither has Chamberlain.
You were a bit nervous to see the Lord’s reaction after your first night. Being met with nothing but indifference only made it worse, making you question what his true intentions were. The worries lingered in the back of your mind until a couple nights later.
There was nothing more anti-climatic than catching a glimpse of a cloaked man from the corner of your eye.
Wearing a cloak here wasn’t an unusual sight, citizens covered themselves for all different reasons. Some, such as yourself in the past, did it purely for the look. Some did it to conceal their identities. It was the latter for the Fire Lord, who was apparently spying on you.
Zuko rules over an entire nation, yet has the ability to shrink his presence down to that of a disregarded and overlooked vagrant. He's quiet when he wants to be, taking up such little space he may as well vanish into thin air. It’s quite the talent, allowing him to slip away into normalcy for an hour or two whenever the grandiosity of the palace became too much.
Unfortunately for Zuko, you can spot him in a crowd. Easily.
Maybe it’s from all the time you’ve spent with him—hours spent locked away in an office, days spent traveling, weeks spent visiting in foreign lands.
Or maybe it’s something more. The possibility was not a thought you liked to entertain. It’s not because the thought itself wasn’t ridiculous—it absolutely was ridiculous. It’s as if the God’s decided to make a mockery out of your life when they had decided on your reality.
You can just imagine them all brainstorming your fate in some heavenly council room.
“Let’s give her someone she can’t have,” one says. “Perhaps Azulon’s second grandson?”
“I love it. Put her in the least liked clan,” says another. “The boy will bring an era of peace and let their union create unrest within the other clans.”
“Brilliant. Make their connection devastatingly magnetic, as well,” the God of Misfortune excitedly says, followed by the room erupting in evil laughter.
And devastating it was.
Zuko was well over a hundred feet away, just another body swallowed by a sea of people. Many walked past him, some even stared in his direction as their minds drifted off, but no one truly noticed. He was insignificant. Invisible.
The gods continued to laugh, because you had noticed him, anyway.
It was beyond just the odd, occasional pull. It was as if you were connected by a stubborn invisible string that enjoyed tugging at you, constantly reminding you of the person at the end of it.
You disappeared shortly after noticing him, but quickly decided to have a little fun. You had brought Cyra along—weaving in and out of shops and alleyways.
“You’re going to drive him mad,” she had said.
“He already is,” you giggled at the thought of him losing sight of you once more.
“I’m sure he just wanted to see if you were okay. You look like you’ve forgotten all about your duties! He’s doing no less than a hired guard would. It’s quite flattering, actually.”
“He is a lunatic that’s doing it for free.”
Cyra was more perceptive than that, but kept her own conclusions to herself, knowing the troubles it’d bring. It was a matter you chose to be blind to, and she believed you were better for it.
That was last night.
Tonight, a local lord was throwing a banquet in honor of the Fire Lord’s visit.
Back being the most important man in the room, he went. He’d be lying if he said he’d been looking forward to attending, but at least this one wasn’t as formal compared to most of the banquet’s he’s attended in the past.
Zuko tried to enjoy it. He drank with those that wanted to share a drink with him, laughed as he listened to the stories the locals shared and said just enough to keep a conversation alive. It wasn’t enough, though— these are people that have thrived in a culture that rewards ambition and resilience. They were more interested in getting to know him as a person, and while appreciates being seen as one, he will not be contributing to a conversation about personal hardships.
He hates conversations that lead to praise or pity. He’s never wanted to leave a place more. But that would be seen as rude, so he’s stuck having to redirect conversations, all while trying not to pay too much attention to you.
To say you’re gone the entire day is not an exaggeration—neither him nor Chamberlain have gotten the chance to catch up with you. But he had a feeling you’d pop up. When you did, he realized he underestimated just how well connected you were.
He’s never seen you this comfortable at an event before. Nor has he ever seen you in such a tight dress. He is thankful for the robe you paired with it for the evening. It did a wonderful job at keeping the inappropriate thoughts he would’ve had at bay.
Lucky for him, Saiyo chose not to come tonight, crossing off whatever worries he would’ve had if he’d gotten caught for looking at you too much.
“I couldn’t imagine the pressure of having all of those concubines.”
Zuko genuinely laughs this time, Lord Joji was quite the empath. “They’re terrifying. You’d think having their own secluded area would bring them some peace and serenity, yet they spend their days brawling with each other.”
The words slipped right out once it was just him and the host. He would’ve never shared that at any other event.
Joji’s clearly enjoying it, laughing at the image in his head. “Perhaps it’s time to bring in some fake eunuchs,” he sips his sake. “Declutter the court, so to speak.”
“Wait, what?”
He tenses at the sudden drop in Zuko’s tone. He couldn’t tell if he was offended or not, but he grew anxious as the silence went on. “I was just kidding, by the way,” he forces out a laugh. “It’s uh— typical humor around here. I always forget how crass we can be at times. Haha… I’m sure we look like a bunch of heathens to the rest of the world.”
“Huh?” The sudden self-depreciation pulled Zuko out of his thoughts. “Oh no, the humor here is wonderful. The eunuch idea is fucking genius.”
Joji pauses and looks at him for a moment, stuck on how he called it an idea. “It worked well for my grand uncle,” he says, testing the waters. “He was able to bring the house back down to a comfortable number in no time.”
“Is that so?” There’s a bit of skepticism in his tone. “Probably didn’t have that many to begin with.”
“It may take some time. But once they’ve finished their jobs, you can catch one of them in the final act and he’ll confess to everything during interrogation.”
“Getting more than one would be smart, wouldn’t it?” he muses to himself, then takes a sip from his glass. “You could probably just get a servant to catch them—avoid all the tears and pleading.”
Joji nods, “You’d be surprised how many attendants are willing to spy for you in exchange for a small bonus.”
Zuko suddenly huffs out a defeated laugh. “They’d only just send more.”
“Would you like my grand uncle’s information? Wait, never mind, I forgot you were—“
Zuko waves a hand. Even he forgot who he was for a moment there— he was bound to more than just the practice of keeping concubines. “I wouldn’t want to waste someone else’s time.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste at all,” he reassures him. “If you ever do change your mind though, I’d be more than happy to introduce you to him.”
“Thank you,” Zuko hums as something else catches his attention. “Could you remind me where the washroom is, again?”
—
The moon casted a faint light over the host’s backyard, revealing stone paths that allowed you to walk through a lush garden filled with delicate flowers and soft shrubs. The path took you past several wooden arches, long overtaken by nature as vines wrap up and cascade over the structures, gently rustling with each breeze.
You had hid behind one when you first heard footsteps, and then waited. You weren’t actually avoiding him, you had already expected he’d follow you out here, and just wanted to creep up on him once he got closer.
It’s not until he fully walks past you when you decide to make your presence known, magically appear a few feet behind him.
“Are you spying on me?”
“No.” You failed to startle him, but did manage to make him feel wrongfully accused. “I was just– I knew you were out here and I thought I’d get some fresh air, too.“
He braces himself. He didn't need to see the glass in your hand to know that you’ve been drinking. You had given it away when you casually stepped out of the shadows to greet him.
“Getting fresh air,” you muse to yourself as you walk up to him. “Like last night?”
The light drains from his eyes. He looks absolutely mortified, and doesn’t even try to deny it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I figured it’d be fun setting you off on a wild goose chase. I’m sure you have a perfectly normal explanation, though.”
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he doesn’t sound very certain of it. “I was already planning on touring the place.”
“You know I’m just fine.” It’s not like he’d be much help if trouble were to arise, you were more than capable of defending yourself. “Does keeping me away from Ryuko make you feel better?”
Knowing that you weren’t mad should’ve made him feel better, but being spoken to like a child was so much worse. You look like you’re about to giggle at his response, regardless of what it was.
“Actually no, I have a better question. Are you going to do this every time someone shows interest in me? Even when you already have Sai and all the other concubines?”
That’s not a question he wants to answer. He hasn’t even touched Sai at all during the trip, not that it’d make a difference since that was his job. “If you’re happy, then no.” How he still manages to be stubborn, you have no clue.
Your lips twitch into a smile. “You don’t think I’d be happy with him?”
There’s a spark of annoyance in his eyes, realizing he’s going to have to come clean about something you most likely already know about.
“You told him you liked your life and then he went on to tell you everything that was wrong with it— I think you’d be miserable with him.” He grows irritated by the words he was having to repeat. “And then he insulted your position by saying there was no future in it. You’ve done nothing but work towards bettering it!”
You had a feeling he overheard that conversation and once again, your intuition hasn’t failed you. “Are you sure it’s not because he tried to say that you think you own me?”
“Yeah. He studied me for an entire hour, yet I’ve never looked at you and thought of insulting you the way he did. He spoke over you that entire time and when he couldn’t sway you, he decided to hurt your feelings. And he still thought he deserved to be given a chance.”
He’s pretty much ranting at this point and it’s taking everything in him not to go off track and say something rude.
“He deserves to have his fucking tongue cut out.”
Whoops.
“…I think that might be too harsh of a punishment.” You said it more to lighten, trying to process how pissed off he’s been this entire time.
“Whether you find it harsh or not makes no difference to me. You shouldn’t have been spoken to that way,” he muttered, waving away whatever dignity he had left. “I never want to see anything like that happen again.”
You thought this would be more of a silly exchange where you’d make fun of him for being—well, pathetic. It would’ve been easier had he just felt threatened by Ryuko, but his reason for hating him is reasonable enough and you can’t find it yourself to tell him that he was wrong.
He waits for you to say the usual spiel about how he needs to stop making everything so difficult and to just have an heir already.
There was a bit of defeat in your tone when you spoke. “I wish you knew how tiring it is watching you do whatever you want, when I’ve done nothing but try to do the right thing.”
You sigh and reach forward, fingers gently brushing over the apple of his cheek, and with Zuko being dwindled down to a man who takes whatever he can get, he gravitates towards your touch.
“Maybe it’s time to give up,” he feebly suggests.
“If only the people knew how much of a fool they have for a ruler, too,” you softly say.
And like the fool he is, he places his hand over yours and just holds it there— making it one of the very few times he’s ever allowed someone to touch the scar on his face. “And what if I was just a fool?”
Now he’s just speaking nonsense. You know more than anyone how much he’d hate being a normal person. He liked having power—that was alright, he was one of the rare few who knew how to wield it properly.
“I wouldn’t allow that.” You continue to rub your thumb over his cheek, using a tone that’s far too tender for the answer you come up with. “I’d stage a coup d'état and put you right back where you belong.”
His lips slowly curve in a smile. “You’re making it very hard for me to be angry with our circumstances right now.”
“I know, at least you have me as a loyalist,” you hum, slightly tilting your head as you get a better look at him. “I’m starting to grow a little homesick, honestly— even if it is boring there.”
“You can go home early, if you want,” he offers with a second thought.
“I’ll be fine. It’s only 3 more days.”
“I hope you’re nicer to me by then. I’m a little homesick, too.”
How charming. “That’s if I don’t drink my memories away after tonight— this isn’t exactly a conversation I want to remember,” you sadly admit.
Zuko’s eyes soften, wishing you’d drink more around him often—you’re quite endearing in the state you’re in. “And why is that?”
“Because I’d prefer not to be overcome with embarrassment when I wake up tomorrow morning.”
His mind goes back to the morning after he first kissed you and chuckles. “It’s not that bad.“
You laugh blandly in return. “Not everyone’s as shameless as you.”
But perhaps it was time to even things out between you for once. He did complain about being the only one drunk that night, after all.
So in the moment of silence you shared with him, you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheekbone, allowing yourself to be selfish for once.
He’s never been so still in his life. You’ve yelled at him, rejected him, pushed him on to other women so many times that he’s lost count. Yet there was no denying that you felt something so incredibly deep for him. There was no need to spell it out— he saw it, felt it, heard it.
“What happened to never touching you again?” Zuko wasn’t complaining, but he was absolutely going to tease you.
“I’m afraid that only applies to you,” you say, feigning sympathy. “Unless you’d like to order me to stop touching you, as well.”
“I would never do such a thing,” he fights off a smile. “Though I would like to know what my punishment would be if I defied your orders.”
There was a sudden look of disbelief on your face, a little disappointment as well. “That is the sluttiest question I’ve ever heard, you know that?”
“I think the courtesans may have just corrupted your mind with all their crude little jokes.”
“Perhaps. They told me I’d make a fine courtesan the other day.” You run the backs of fingers across his jaw, ignoring the sudden twitch in his eye. “Could you imagine such a simple comment planting a seed in my mind?”
Fortunately, you’ve had enough drinks in you to be able to dismiss the sinister laugh that comes out of him. “No. I don’t want to imagine that, at all, actually.”
“Uh-oh,” you smile and take a sip. “Does the idea make you jealous, My Lord?”
“Jealous? Yes.” He plucks the glass from your hand and takes a sip of your sake. “A little angry, as well.”
“A little?”
His eyes narrow and speaks as if you had just challenged him. “I would buy you out before you got the chance to take customers.”
You throw out another idea. “What if I took a customer while waiting for you to finish the paperwork?”
“I’d turn him into a eunuch.” He watches as your smile slowly fades away.
“That’s a little much for a man that hoards concubines, no?”
He thinks to defend himself against hoarding accusations, but forces himself to let it go. “Does it matter if you’re planning on drinking your memories away tonight?”
You stare at him as you recall the last ten minutes or so. “I probably should.”
“Were you not going to?”
“I was on the fence about it,” you give a contemplative hum. “Eh—better safe than sorry.”
You turn to leave, but Zuko grabs your wrists before you take a step. “You’re not going back to ignoring me tomorrow, are you?”
“Depends on my mood tomorrow,” you smile and snatch your wrist away. “Bye!”
“Fuck—Wait! What kind of an answer is that?”
—
The last days of your visit were fairly normal.
You had ended up taking the rest of the time off. Everyone figured you needed the break anyways and you had zero objections to that.
It was the last day when everything went south.
Of course you just so happened to be there, after deciding to stay at the hotel for some extra rest before traveling back home.
The Madame at Cyra’s brothel would’ve had no issues letting you take a nap there. Had you actually done so, you would’ve been sleeping peacefully right about now— rather than awkwardly sitting in a silent room full of people who are too nervous to speak.
After thirty minutes of being tortured by discomfort, Lord Zuko and the Chamberlain finally walk through the door. The tears started almost immediately.
You guess the guard who had to go fetch them didn’t say what the emergency was. They didn’t look very mad. Chamberlain looked more worried. Zuko just stood there while Concubine Saiyo and one of the guards got on their hands and knees to beg for forgiveness.
“Lord Z-Zuko, I’m— I’m s-so so-sorry!”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty! Please spare my life. I beg you! Please!”
It takes a moment to click for Zuko and only you notice the glimmer of joy in his eyes when he finally realizes what has happened.
You were hoping he’d send you back to your room, but ended up having to kneel a few feet away from the two adulterers as they had to recall their stories in full. You’re not sure why that was still protocol. Even Zuko looked miserable as he had to listen to them, but the Chancellor was known to be a stickler.
The older man regretted it soon enough. Hearing the events of the sexual encounter quickly became a unique torture he was forced to endure.
Saiyo began to beg again in the end, and you felt a little bad. She was a nice girl.
“Please—please!! I’ll do anything!”
Zuko offers a sympathetic hum, only to remind her of the law. “I have no other choice but to remove you from the court. What kind of a message would that send to the others if I let you stay?” He was full of shit.
“My f-family will kill me!” she continued to cry.
He looks to the guard next to her, who’s staring out into space, tears all dried out. Zuko tries to ask him a question but struggles with the wording at first. Eventually he grows impatient and bluntly asks, “Did you enjoy fucking her?”
The guard grows pale, terrified of what the punishment for that would be.
“I’m not executing you. Not whipping you, either. Or whatever physical punishment they have for these kinds of things,” Zuko lets him know.
The guard sighs in relief, then bows. “I— Yes, I did.”
Chamberlain scoffs and looks at the guard in disgust. How the youth could willingly engage in such devious acts was beyond him.
“Sai, do y—“ Zuko tries to get the concubines' attention, but she's too busy dry heaving to notice. “Saiyo. Sa—my fucking gods—Sai!”
She throws her head back and wails. “I’m s-so sorry, my Lord!!”
“Do you want t—Sai, please,“ cut off once more, he slams his fist on the table next to him, startling everyone in the room. “STOP.”
She takes in a sharp breath, whimpering another apology as Zuko glared at her, daring her to sniffle again.
Zuko finally speaks and points to the guard. “If you don’t want to go home, I can gift you to him. You can be his wife.”
“W-wait— really?”
Zuko notices her bottom lip quiver. “Don’t. Just answer the question.”
“O-okay, yes. Please. I can’t go home.”
“Great.” He takes a sip of water. “You all can leave now— except for you.”
You don’t do a very good job of hiding your dismay, but you stay in place and wait for everyone to leave.
Zuko opens his mouth.
Saiyo pops in and whines, “Lord Zuko, do you hate me?!”
He rests his head in his hand and sighs. “No, I don’t hate you.”
“But—I cheated!“
“That’s okay. We found you a place to live and you are safe,” he says, trying to maintain his patience to the best of his ability. “I need to speak with Ms.—“
“But will you be fine?” she whimpers.
Her question actually manages to make Zuko smile a little, but it’s for reasons he can’t exactly share. “I will be just fine,” he hums.
The concubine needs some extra reassurance, so it wasn’t until a few minutes later when you two finally had the room to yourselves.
“Don’t you think you’re sitting a little too far?” he asks.
You are. Without a word, you bring the floor cushion upfront, ignoring the pleased look on his face because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
There’s a bit of a stare off until you finally break the silence. “You’re not punishing me for this.”
“There’s nothing to punish you for,” he chuckles. “Not that I’d ever have the heart to, anyway.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Just wanted to talk.”
“I’m kneeling in front of you,” you mutter, stating the obvious. “This doesn’t feel very casual.”
“Would you like to sit on my lap instead?”
“No,” you answer rather fast.
“Shame,” he relaxes, leaning on the armrest. “I must say I am having a very good day right now.”
You nearly roll your eyes, it’s not often you make mistakes, this one being punishable by death had it been made during the rule of the two previous Fire Lords. “I’m sure you are.”
“Feels very meaningful, as well.”
“Yeah?” You try to sound interested, but you have a feeling he’s going to eventually say something inappropriate. “How so?”
“You know,” he gestures at the door. “You brought them here because you wanted more space between us— I didn’t want space, I also don’t like my concubines. Then you ended up solving both of my problems and even showered me with some of your affection. I feel as if we’ve come full circle here.”
That wipes the smile off your face, you were counting on him to be kind enough to pretend like it didn’t happen.
You force out a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
He lets out an actual laugh, light and filled to the brim with content. “I’m talking about the banquet we attended a few days ago.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t—“
“Yes, you did,” he says, looking at you with amusement. “All drunk and sweaty, throwing yourself at me and begging me to f—“
“That did not happen!” you slam both hands on the ground and yelp.
“Oh, so you do know?”
“I do, now stop—please,” you beg him.
“Alright, fine,” he laughs. “Anyways, I just wanted to thank you, that's all.”
“Don’t thank me for any of that,” you murmur, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Ugh—If I’d known I’d be bringing two freaks together, I would’ve never brought guards. You should probably expect an apology letter from my father. Though I’m sure it’ll mostly be him begging you to allow him to torture the guard.”
Knowing your father, the news will probably have a chill running down his spine and sickened with worry. A mistake like this could very well result in you being taken in as a concubine in place of Saiyo, since you and your father would be the reason why he had one less concubine.
Zuko’s too busy thinking about how your father would be probably go into full, graphic detail on the proposed torture, leaving him mildy disturbed.
“I should probably write him a letter—let it be how he finds out about the incident and let him know neither of you are at fault.”
“If you could, that’d be wonderful,” you nod in content.
The weary look on his face never fades as his eyes trail past you and look off into the distance. Your father being the cause of it was hard to believe. There’s something he’s not telling you.
“I know I’m still on a break, but I’m on a fixed salary,” you say to lighten the mood, despite growing concerned over the sudden mood switch. “If you want my professional opinion.”
He gives an apathetic hum, letting the silence drag on some more as he takes your offer into consideration.
“I ran into my sister the other day.”
Your eyes widened and he confirmed it with a subtle nod, then continued to give you a breakdown of their brief reunion. It sounded like something that would’ve been more heartwarming, but in the end you understood why he didn’t look very moved. “I considered pardoning her, but that only lasted about an hour.”
“Probably for the best. She sounds like she’s found peace, and you got to avoid all the pushback and scrutiny a pardoning would’ve received.” You were sugar coating it, the council would’ve been up in flames. The only reason why you’re staying calm over him committing literal treason is because he seemed to need a friend right now.
“I’ll help her if she needs it, but she’s not coming back to the capital after everything I’ve had to do for this fucking place over the years. I gave my soul away in exchange for everyone’s peace,” he admits in defeat. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you murmur, not having much advice for him on the matter.
It has gotten a lot better over the years, but the beginning years of his reign have left lasting effects on him, though he’d never admit it.
He says it’s all been rewarding, but those years were thankless. No one took him seriously. He had multiple attempts on his life. He was terrified of being anything like his father, so his own people constantly took advantage of him for being too nice. When the word spread, people protested because they thought he was too weak.
Things finally started to pick up once he began to ally with different clans and create factions, which allowed him to get even more done since people were more willing to help and support him.
He’s loved by the majority now, but you’ve come to realize that the damage had been done. You felt sorry for him. His main goal of helping others has never changed, but he has no interest in getting to know people.
“Don’t give me that look,” he grumbles, rising from his seat.
“I wasn’t looking at you at all.”
He watches as you stand and walk to the other end of the room, putting the floor cushion in its rightful place. His gaze may have drifted lower than it should’ve, but it rose back up once you turned around.
He looks like he’s about to say something stupid, so you shoot him a glare. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, pointing at the cushion you had just put away, “just reminded me of the empty bed I’ll have tonight.” Everyone was leaving tomorrow morning, except for the new couple, who were to leave right away.
“Don’t complain as if you didn’t try to thank me for it,” you sigh.
“I’m not. I might have another way to thank you, though,” he steps in front of you just before you pass him and leans forward.
“Miss Advisor!”
Concubine Saiyo was still turning the corner when she cried out for you. Zuko quickly spins around and you take several steps away from him. Saiyo comes trotting in shortly afterwards, tears streaming from her cheeks.
“I’m leaving now. I will miss seeing you!” her voice trembles.
“I will miss you, too! I wish you the best of luck.”
Zuko had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but then found himself fighting back a smile as he watched you two wrap your arms around each other. If this was going to be the standard for farewells, he should just start bringing Concubines to trips, along with a fake eunuch. He’d be a free man soon enough!
“And because I like you, if you ever get sent to the west wing as a concubine, don’t listen to what any of them say because they are looking to set you up for failure,” Sai tightly grabs on to your shoulders, “the easiest way to win over the Lord’s affection is to relax your throat. It’s fine if you gag, if anything he’d rather you would—“
“SAIYO!” The name practically rips through both the Fire Lord’s and Chamberlain's vocal chords.
She glances at them, then hurries to tell you the rest. “The messier the better, honestly. Practice Yoga as well! He—“
SYNOPSIS !! choso is initially a little irritated when his customers start dropping like flies. come to find out, they have only moved on to a different dealer, you! he did not expect to gain a crush on the girl who packs pre-rolls with hellokitty stickers.
> plug!choso x plug!reader
> fic + smau combo! mainly leaning towards smau thooo
AUTHOR'S NOTE !! WOOP WOOP poll isn't even finished yet but i was so bored guys... pt2 will honestly (maybe) come out tmr bc i have more ss but tumblr wouldn't let me add it on my phone ( ,,⩌'︿'⩌ꐦ,,)
credits!! pics from pinterest, choso art from thatsallitchief (I THINK), divider from pixopix
when choso's orders started declining, the last thing he expected was because someone else poached his regulars from him. and even more so, he never would have expected that the latest campus plug was a girl that used pink paper for rolling and put 'thank you' notes with her orders. it was sukuna that showed him what your packages looked like.
choso doesn't really know why he asked for your number. just like how he didn't know why sukuna was buying from someone else when sukuna usually bought from him. he decides to texts you on a whim.
choso buys a couple pre-rolls from you and asks to meet. from simply texting you, choso decides that you are a little too chipper to be a plug. but he supposes he wasn't one to judge.
he meets you at some random lot and his first thought is that you look exactly how you text. even from where you stood in the distance, you wave and give him a grin so wide choso is sure your cheeks hurt.
you meet midway and you greet him happily, "hiya! you're choso, right?"
he nods, "you're honestly exactly what i was expecting."
you tilt your head to the side in confusion, "what's that supposed to mean?"
"nothing bad, sweetheart, i promise," choso chuckles, pulling out his wallet and taking out the cash. "you just look like the kind of girl that sells pink pre-rolls and adds stickers as freebies."
you jokingly snatch the cash from his grasp. "and what's wrong with that, hm?"
"not a damn thing," choso tells you with a smirk.
later when choso heads back to his place and lights up the pre-roll he bought from you, he finds himself chuckling as he takes a puff from the pink joint. suddenly, he can't blame his regulars from buying from you. your shit was pretty damn good for the price and who wouldn't want to meet up with a cute girl to buy weed?
for the next few weeks, choso finds himself texting you pretty often. he doesn't know why yet but he's become infatuated with you. can you blame him?
choso lets out a sigh as he swipes out of your contact to message gojo.
toji zenin has no concept of personal space when it comes to you.
೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 CONTAINS .ᐟ just pure fluff, established relationship, clingy behaviour, uni au ( though its lightly mentioned )
despite popular belief, toji zenin was a very clingy man.
because there was no reason he should be laying in your bed in your dorm room, allegedly waiting for you.
“about time.” he grumbled, grabbing your wrist to pull you to bed.
“hold on toji, let me just do my skincare—“
“you already took too much of my time, no way.” he protested, you didn’t even have a chance to fight him before he dragged you down, pulling you onto the bed and pressing his chest on your back.
“seriously toji?” you deadpanned, though the immediate warmth from him made your heart flutter. he chuckled.
“seriously.” he affirmed, burying his face on the crook of your neck.
you frowned, turning your body and pressing your forehead to his chest, naturally his arms adjusted and wrapped around you while caressing your back. “how long were you here anyways?” your questioned, voice muffled by his shirt.
“two hours.”
“two hours?!” you exclaimed, turning your head to look at him properly, brows furrowed.
he rolled his eyes, “what? you gave me the spare keys to your dorm and said i can come by whenever.” a lazily smirk was on his face.
“yeah but why didn’t you text me?” when you frowned, he scrunched his brows.
“cause you told me you were busy doing that assignment you were assigned to do.” he muttered, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips.
“couldn’t distract you.” he whispered lazily, making your stomach flutter, your cheeks growning warmer as you smiled.
“mm.. fine.” you nuzzled your face back onto his chest as he wrapped his arms even tighter around you while letting out a satisfying huff.
for a moment, it was only peaceful silence, and you could feel his gentle heartbeat beneath your cheek.
“hey.. toji?” you whispered as he hummed in response. it was evident from his tone he was getting sleepy.
“can i get up and do my skincare now?”
he let out a dramatic groan.
“i can’t believe you.” he whispered, making you chuckle at how ridiculous he was acting right now.
“cmon, it’ll be fast.” you found him tightening his arms around you, refusing.
you knew from experience he got even clingier when he was tired.
“cmon big boy, i’ll be fast.”
reluctantly, his grip loosened before you sat up, getting off of bed as he watched behind his tired eyes like an adorable cat who’s been woken up from a nap.
mid cleansing your skin, suddenly a muscular pair of arms rested around your waist, and his chin on top of your head.
he was like a huge weighted blanket.
you groaned feigning annoyance.
“toji.” you mumbled, looking back at the mirror and his eyes were fluttered shut, his face soft and relaxed.
you sighed, finishing up your skincare and he was getting heavier, his face eventually nuzzled onto your shoulder as his nose brushed your collarbone.
“you’re not seriously sleeping on me right now are you?” you muttered, tone filled with affection rather than genuine annoyance, you subconsciously leaned back onto his chest to balance him properly.
you shook your head in disbelief, gently nudging his arm as he groaned. “gosh you’re so clingy.” you muttered under your breath, watching him stand a bit more straight as he softly groaned in disapproval, too lazy to use actual words.
you guided him back to bed, before you could process anything he sat in bed and hooked you by the waist without missing a beat, squeezing your waist.
“my girlfriend hates me.” he whined, nuzzling his face onto your neck.
you cascaded your hands on his black hair, chuckling. “god forbid i don’t want to break out.”
“god forbid i want to hold my girlfriend.” he murmured, tightening his grip around your waist.
smiling to yourself, you sunk into his skin, letting him latch onto you.
“i love you.” he whispered, making your body go rigid for a moment as your heart skipped a beat.
your expression softened eventually, humming you pecked his temple lovingly.
instead of getting the girl, gojo just got her pregnant! how's he supposed to win you over when you only seem to see him as the baby daddy?
synopsis: when the frat president becomes the father of your daughter, the last thing you expected were his brothers to start bidding to be the step dad! can he prove that he's serious about starting a life together for the three of you - or will someone swoop in to steal both his girls?
pairing: frat!gojo x milf!reader x frat!geto (also starring frat!sukuna)
content: mdni!! fluff, angst, and smut, college au, unrealistic frat depictions, parties, drinking, accidental pregnancy, raising a baby, they all want to be the daddy, lots of pining, gojo being lovesick and stupid, denying feelings, possessive geto + gojo, titty sucking, lactation kink, heavy jealousy
art cr: @zeilorene0 on x div cr: @/tsumiinum
Going on a date with your baby daddy's best friend was probably not the smartest thing you could do.
"Would you like some wine?" Geto murmured softly, peering up at you from above his menu, the dim lighting in the restaurant casting shadows across his sharp features.
"Um, no thanks," you declined, glancing awkwardly around the restaurant as you felt the weight of his stare settle on your exposed cleavage, hyper aware of the low cut of your dress and the way your breasts were beginning to ache from how long it'd been since you pumped. "I'll just take a water."
Had Gojo remembered what time to feed her? Was she cranky right now, crying and wailing and beating on his broad chest waiting for you to come back?
"Thinking about Umi?" He softly asked, his honeyed voice soothing the ache in your chest as you offered him an apologetic smile.
"Is it that obvious?" You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat as you shoved down your discomfort, adjusting the straps of your chest and praying that your tits wouldn't leak through the nipple pads you slipped inside your bra.
"It's cute," Geto reassured you, reaching across the table to snag your hand, drawing a delicate star over your skin as you tried to match his smile. "You're a good mom."
You wanted to take the compliment.
But your brain was still unfortunately stuck on the white-haired father of your child who was probably pacing your apartment praying for you to come back any second.
Who would most certainly freak the fuck out if he found out where you were - and who you were with.
It's not like you meant to start sorta seeing Geto.
You weren't even sure if you could qualify it as dating.
He'd been around maybe even more than Gojo had since you got pregnant, and stayed afterwards. Staying late whenever Gojo wasn't there, helping you wash baby bottles and rocking Umi to sleep when you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open. Folding your laundry and keeping up with the chores, insisting that you shower and rest and take care of yourself first, murmuring softly that you were working hard enough as it was with that casual, crooked smile of his.
Until one afternoon, instead of your daughter falling asleep in his lap, you had, waking up to him stroking your hair with one hand and cradling Umi in his other.
And some awful part of you asked yourself what if he'd been her father instead?
Gojo might have flowers delivered to your door and fuck you when he wormed his way into spending the night with the excuse of helping on the night shift with Umi, but he hadn't been there before.
Not for half your appointments. Not for your labor.
God, if it hadn't been for Geto, he would've missed her birth.
He had been the one you met first. The one you knew better before his best friend went and knocked you up. The entire reason you even showed up to that party, chasing a stupid crush you were sure wouldn’t even notice you.
But he wasn’t the one you ended up sleeping with - or the one whose name was on the birth certificate.
"You deserve a night for yourself," Geto coaxed, and you knew that he was right. That you couldn't be there for her if you couldn't take care of yourself. Or let someone else help you do it.
Besides, wasn't it half Gojo's fault she existed anyway?
Maybe he’d worn the wrong condom size, but you were the one too stubborn to ask him to pay for a Plan B after it broke, clinging to your stupid pride. Too embarrassed to even face him after you hooked up until you absolutely had to, showing up to his frat house expecting him to shoo you away to get an abortion and slam the door in your face.
Perhaps if he had, you wouldn't feel the hints of guilt creeping in that you were sitting across from his second-in-command now, letting him say your name in that suave voice of his and tell you how pretty you looked in a dress that didn't quite fit your tits anymore.
Not that Geto seemed to mind, judging by the way you caught his stare drifting down to them no matter how chivalrous he was attempting to present himself tonight.
"It's just weird being away from her for this long," you shrugged your shoulders self-consciously, pulling back your hand to pick at the paint on your nails that was already flaking off despite the fact you'd done it only a few hours before your date.
You dropped Umi off with Gojo earlier, but he'd never watched her this long on his own either.
Would it start to become a more common thing? Afternoons or nights you swapped her so the other could go out and date around?
Despite Gojo swearing he only wanted to make this work with you, you had an incredibly difficult time picturing the campus's favorite playboy not pouring body shots on pretty girls all those Friday evenings he attended parties for his 'frat duties'.
You were sure that was just code for fucking other sorority girls and playing condom roulette to see if your daughter would get a half-sibling.
"She'll be okay," Geto reassured you, deliberately avoiding broaching who, exactly, was watching her right now.
That was the one topic the two of you tended not to discuss.
You wondered if it bothered him at all. Made him feel like shit when he held Umi and decided he'd rather be the stepdad instead of a supportive uncle figure.
Truthfully, you still couldn't understand why he decided you were worth fracturing his friendship with Gojo for.
If he had been courting you a year and a half ago, you probably would’ve been over the fucking moon. Thrilled that someone like him wanted you, but you simply weren’t the same girl.
It hadn’t slipped past you that all of Gojo's friends suddenly seemed to want you after he had you.
"Geto," you swallowed, unsure how to broach any of the thousand worries floating through your head as you worked up the nerve to bring up what had been looping through your head since he first started carving his own spot in your life for him. "You know Gojo will be pissed if he knows what we're doing right now."
"You didn't tell him?" He asked, amusement glinting in his dark eyes as you flitted your stare down to the tiny print on the menu below.
"You don't care?" You returned the question, sighing as you reluctantly looked back up at him.
"Do you want to be with him?" Suguru pressed, but you could tell be the curve of his smirk that he thought he already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear you say it.
Being with Gojo had never been a part of your previously well-thought out life plan. You had him pegged from the moment you saw him at a frat party your friend dragged you to during your first year here, surrounded by beautiful women and yes men, alcohol being poured in his pretty mouth. The kind of spoiled, stuck-up prick who breezed through life like they were used to winning first place just for existing. Handed the world on a silver platter.
And now he thought you were a prize he deserved simply because he got you pregnant.
But still, you weren't about to just make it easy for Geto either.
Not when you didn't even know if he really liked you, or the idea of stealing something from under Gojo's nose.
"Why do you want to be with me?" You returned his question rather than answering it, arching up an eyebrow and waiting for his response.
Even though you appreciated his help, it wasn't like you needed your support system of frat bros hanging around if all they wanted was to get in your panties.
Before he could reply though, a baby began to cry, and your head snapped up, scanning the restaurant as if it could somehow be yours, the ache in your breasts returning with a vengeance, a lot fucking harder to ignore when your tits were already confined in the tight dress you'd chosen tonight.
Maybe it was just how much you were missing her, your brain playing tricks on your ears, but it really did sound like her too, your heart squeezing and wrung dry as you glanced from table to table trying to spot where the baby was.
Wincing as you tried to readjust the strap of your dress, swallowing hard and cursing yourself for not bringing a pump or expressing the milk before you left your apartment, knowing that you'd probably have a clogged duct to deal with later. But before you could spot the baby, your waitress was returning, a practiced smile plastered on her face as she looked directly at Geto instead of you.
Probably sizing up the fact that a guy like him was a bit out of your league, or that this was a first date as she leaned over to his side and grinned at him, "Have we made up our minds?"
"I think we'll just get our food to-go," Suguru returned a polite smile to her, and a surge of panic spiked in your chest until his palm slid over yours with silent reassurance, his eyes narrowing as he slyly stole a peek at your chest like he knew why you were squirming before clearing his throat. "Baby's waiting for us back home."
The waitress's face deflated almost instantly.
Wrongly assuming that the two of you were more than just something casual. Thinking that the baby belonged to him.
"Oh, sure," she nodded numbly, regaining her composure. "What will it be?"
He ordered for both of you, and you just shuffled in your seat, caught somewhere between relief that he was freeing you from an hour and a half of discomfort and disappointment that your date would be ending like this.
But perhaps it was for the better.
Maybe it was a sign that this wasn't going to go anywhere.
And when she walked away with reassurances that she'd bring it out as soon as possible, you were about to apologize, but he just squeezed your hand as you started to softly say his name, "Geto-"
"How many times have I asked you to call me Suguru?"
You wished he didn't disarm you so effortlessly. Stalling your excuses with just a single look, with a simple motion of his thumb over your knuckle as he treated you like you were his girlfriend.
"Once the food comes out, I can go take care of you," he promised, and it wasn't until you were walking out to the car that it struck you how serious he was about that.
"You know, you don't have to-" You started, glancing down at the way he was still holding your hand in the parking lot, his fingers tightly gripping your hand and keeping you glued to his side as you tried to sound more collected than you really were. "I can just pump at home or-"
"I thought you liked it when I helped," he slyly said, teasing you in that soft voice of his, mouth curling up when your face flushed.
So what if maybe you let him get rid of your clogged ducts a couple times when Gojo was busy with work or class?
His big hands were good at it, thick fingers massaging and working the breast tissue as his lips latched on to you.
Besides, you liked the way Geto looked at you, even if it sort of scared you. The intensity in his stare, how he studied you like he was interested in every detail. How he spoke to you like you were something soft to be cradled, not just sloppy seconds or someone’s leftovers. The way he listened, his head tilted to the side as he nodded along with patience you’d never really received before.
You didn't need anyone.
Not Gojo. Not Geto.
Not even Sukuna, even if he was debatably the best when it came to helping with her or soothing her when she started to wail.
You could do it on your own.
But something about Suguru made you feel like it might be okay to be taken care of too.
“You know you can find someone better,” you bluntly blurted out as he held the car door open for you. He stopped, squinting down at you as you slid into the passenger seat.
Someone without stretch marks or, y’know, an entire baby with another man. Someone who would have all the time in the world to worship him without wanting or needing all the things you did.
“We need to work on your self-esteem,” he remarked, arching up an eyebrow with a sigh as he nodded towards your seatbelt to remind you to buckle up.
And before you could retort back that he hadn’t disagreed, he was shutting the door and walking back around to his side.
Like he could somehow anticipate what you were preparing to say, his mouth had already parted when he got in too, “If you want me to tell you how much I like you, all you have to do is ask.”
Suguru knew exactly how to shut you up.
And five minutes later, he had your dress pulled down, both breasts freed and exposed as he groped and squeezed and sucked you dry. Thick fingers dimpling your skin as he sank them in deep, his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple and greedily drinking up every ounce of milk you leaked out.
Tongue dragging back over the peaked buds whenever any escaped, your fingers lacing through his dark hair as you tilted your head back and scrunched your eyes shut. Trying not to moan at the way he was holding you, one arm slipped around your back to pull you closer as he leaned across the center console to suck on your swollen breasts.
The to-go boxes half-forgotten in the backseat, the radio playing some slow, soft song as he groaned into your nipple, his sharp teeth grazing over it to send a sharp shudder through your body.
Glancing up at you with delight glimmering in his stare, possessively pulling you in as he popped off your chest.
“You’re wasted on Satoru."
And even though he didn’t say it, you could feel it.
Geto thought it should’ve been him.
ꕤꕤꕤ
Gojo wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel until the air bag went off.
Maybe if it broke his nose, he could get enough sympathy points from you that you’d stop seeing Suguru. And he’d never have to see his best friend sucking on your breasts from across the parking lot.
Umi was asleep in her car seat in the back, leaving him to his own embarrassing thoughts as he forced himself to turn the key in the ignition. To start the car after he completely and utterly failed the mission he should've never gone on in the first place.
You'd maim him if you knew he was spying on you with Suguru. Maybe accuse him of being a creep and somehow think even less of him than you already did.
And despite how much it fucking sucked, he forced himself to pull out of the parking lot and leave you there with your tit in Suguru's mouth, feeling like a moron for thinking tonight would ever end any differently.
Suguru was a good guy.
Didn't have the reputation he did. Was quiet where he was loud, soothing where he was brash. Wouldn't make you wonder where he was or what he was doing or who he'd been with before.
Of course, you'd choose him.
Gojo guessed he should just be grateful you'd have to at least spend the next eighteen years co-parenting with him. Attending parent-teacher conferences and planning birthdays and holidays.
But even when he made it back to your place, warming up a bottle to feed Umi, watching her big blue eyes sleepily blink up at him as her chubby little fingers still tried to grab it, he couldn't fucking imagine having to share her with Suguru.
Seeing her look up at his best friend and babble dada to him, at the apparently growing possibility he might miss her first steps, her first words, her first everything and Suguru might get them instead.
Spiraling long after he put her back down in her crib, laying flat on your couch and staring at the ceiling to count the seconds until you came back.
God, since when had he gotten so pathetic?
Why couldn't he just figure it out and fix this? What would it take for you to give him a try?
Did you want him to grow out his hair? Start watching pretentious foreign films?
He still didn't have a clue by the time he heard your key in the lock, sitting up straight and smoothing out the wrinkles and spit-up stain on his shirt as he automatically started walking towards the entrance, nearly running into you when you walked in.
"Hey," he muttered, running his hands through his hair and pretending he didn't notice how your lip gloss had smeared, or how stray strands of your hair were sticking out as you peeled your purse off your shoulder and hung it up by the door.
"Hey," you murmured, wiping the back of your mouth just to stumble a little trying to slip off your heels.
And even though he knew you didn't need his help, he was still holding out his arm for you to hold onto him and steady yourself while you took them off.
"Enjoy your dinner?" He murmured, and you cringed a little, looking up at him with the slightest hints of apology in your smile as you held up a to-go box in your other hand.
"Who told you?" You asked, even though he could see it in your stare that you already suspected the answer.
"Sukuna mentioned it," he admitted.
"I should've said something," you cleared your throat, the closest you could probably come to a sorry.
"It's fine," he lied, no matter how far he really was from it.
"Do you want the rest?" You offered, as if your leftovers were some olive branch.
One he'd gladly take it.
"Sure," he shrugged, grabbing it as you let go of his arm. "So, are you guys, like a thing, or-"
"It's not like you're not seeing other women," you defensively muttered instead of actually answering, scowling at him as he went slack-jawed.
"I'm not," Gojo huffed, unsure what the hell he had to do to get you to understand that.
Wear a fucking cock cage and give you the only key?
"Gojo," you said his last name, bottom lip pushed out all pretty, and he wished he could make you believe how badly he wanted to make it yours too. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
He actually thought you were incredibly smart.
Gojo would give up everything just to breathe in the scent of your soft skin every day and listen to your voice as you talked about your studies as he stroked your hair and nuzzled his nose against your neck.
But instead, all that came out was a stuttered, "N-no?"
"You're at frat parties every weekend," you pointed out, holding your nose up high as you exhaled, walking past him like you had come to your conclusion.
"B-but only as the president, I'm not-"
"You don't speak to the pretty girls that come up to feel your muscles and offer to play stepmom?" You sarcastically asked, and Gojo wished you could look a little less gorgeous when you were glaring at him.
"I mean, I only talk to them," he tried to explain, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say when you just scoffed and shook your head.
"Me and Suguru just talked then," you huffed, and Gojo hated how you said his name. Loathed that he probably got to hear it while he was still relegated to Gojo.
Especially when he had seen first hand what you meant by talking.
His mouth opened, but it never seemed to be able to form the right words to get you to see him.
"I'm going to bed," you stubbornly insisted, padding barefoot back to your room while he hopelessly stared at your shrinking figure.
What would it take to be the one you wanted to go to sleep with?
And how the hell could he make sure that Suguru never got the chance?
series | latest oneshots | patreon
p.s. everyone go check out this lovely art of baby daddy drama gojo
And that's the part that's making me lose my fucking mind.
We lost an entire section of the MAIN STORY.
The livestream literally told us Valko's release was going to reveal more about the Aethercore—one of the biggest mysteries in Love and Deepspace and something that's been central to the plot from the very beginning.
So now what?
You think they can just delete him and nothing changes?
Do people genuinely think you can rip out an entire story arc without consequences?
Everything that was supposed to be revealed through Valko now has to be rewritten, redistributed, or outright cut. The main story is going to have to be retconned. Future updates are going to have to be reworked. Characters may have to be rewritten just to fill the gap he leaves.
If you're celebrating this because you "won," I sincerely hope you understand what you've actually cheered for.
18+. sum 𓏲 you and fratkuna are the kind of couple who break up & make up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, the new football team captain, can his frat brothers help him get you back ?
‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’
ΣΧ
“‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”
ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.
toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.
toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.
HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !
and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.
“i’m gonna get her back.”
sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.
but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“
sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”
toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”
suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”
sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”
sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”
“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.
“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.
tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.
naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.
suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”
sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”
they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.
sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.
the plan?
sabotage.
# SHOW TIME !
at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.
sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.
naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.
“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”
sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”
“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”
suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”
naoya’s smile dissolves.
“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”
“i try.”
“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”
sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.
you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.
you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.
that is, until naoya curls up behind you.
sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.
sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”
“hm?”
“get sato. it’s time.”
suguru grins. “yes, boss.”
suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.
you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.
suguru reappears with sato in tow.
sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”
sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”
sato squints. “so ugly,”
“he’s got his hands on my girl.”
sato frowns. “that won’t do.”
“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”
sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.
the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.
he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—
but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.
the situation is a whole mess.
punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?
naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”
“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“
“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.
naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.
sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”
sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”
“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”
“i did good?”
“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”
suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.
towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.
your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.
“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”
sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.
he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”
“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”
“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”
“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”
sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.
naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”
“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”
oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.
“i’m sorry.”
sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”
“for going past my limit.”
sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?
“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”
you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”
sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.
because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”
you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.
sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.
“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”
he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.
“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”
“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”
TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !
taught by: geto suguru
“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.
itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.
you haven’t posted on instagram in days.
not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.
sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.
“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”
geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”
on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”
“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.
sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”
suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.
“what are you saying?”
“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”
“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”
“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”
sato and suguru look at each other again.
“boring.” sato says.
“huh?”
“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”
sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”
sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.
sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”
“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”
# GAME DAY !
LET’S GO PANDAS !
the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.
the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.
sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.
sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.
is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?
he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.
he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.
he’s still smiling when you look up at him.
his face falls.
your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.
uh oh.
you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.
sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.
——
caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.
and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.
“go away.” you deadpan.
“i’m here to eat.”
“You will choke on your food and die.”
harsh.
sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.
“what are you doing?”
your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.
he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”
you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”
“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”
he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.
“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”
“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”
he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”
that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”
you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.
“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”
“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.
“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”
“ugh!”
you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.
ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.
———-
sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.
how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?
he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.
sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.
“yo,”
“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”
“love your generosity.”
“thank you, brother.”
sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”
“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”
“uh—hi!”
“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”
“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”
suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”
“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”
“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”
down on the pitch, the teams are lively.
the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.
it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.
and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.
his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”
the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.
“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”
the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.
naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“
suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”
“your thinking is correct.”
“hit it, toru.”
toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.
“hey naoya,”
suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.
“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”
toru hits a button.
the big screen flickers.
the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.
“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”
but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”
the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”
“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”
but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.
sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”
on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”
they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.
sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.
OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!
sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.
———
“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”
the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.
toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.
suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.
“this is all your fault!”
sukuna knows that voice anywhere.
sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.
“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”
sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”
“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”
“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”
“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”
“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”
you slap naoya silly.
and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?
but he can’t relax for long.
“you fucking bitch!”
naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.
naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.
suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.
sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.
“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”
you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”
“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”
but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:
GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.
they don’t need to be told twice.
“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”
“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”
he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”
“i told you to look at me.”
you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”
“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”
sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”
“monday.” you grumble.
“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”
you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”
“no.”
“don’t lie to me.”
you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”
“anything else?”
“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.
“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”
“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.
“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”
“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”
sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—
“i knocked that sucker out the park!”
sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.
you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.
sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.
suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”
“right?!”
sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.
“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”
geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”
“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.”
“never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”
sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.
he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.
his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.
he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.
but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.
sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”
SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !
taught by: toji zenin
‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’
ΣΧ
“i have to kill naoya zenin.”
on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.
megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.
“daddy, i have a buss down.”
toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”
toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.
on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”
“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”
megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”
“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”
megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”
megumi zenin pads away.
suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”
“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”
sukuna squints.
“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”
megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”
“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”
sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”
sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.
in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.
sato’s grin is clumsy.
“did someone say party?”
# SHOW TIME !
at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.
not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.
sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.
pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.
pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.
“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”
it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.
which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.
his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.
but sukuna doesn’t understand it.
he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?
are you really moving on?
he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?
or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?
sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.
“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?
she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”
pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”
sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.
pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”
“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”
she frowns. “you used to be fun.”
“i used to be single.”
he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.
ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.
he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.
sukuna sees it.
he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.
the drink in your hand nearly drops.
you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—
he pushes pairin off his lap.
but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—
“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”
sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.
ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.
TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !
taught by: sato gojo
“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.
two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.
SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.
sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.
[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]
sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.
but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.
mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention.
mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so
mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx
sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
his phone chimes again.
mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it.
mine🫀: bye sukuna.
sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.
and then he laughs.
yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.
# SHOW TIME
sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.
“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”
“what does that even mean?”
“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”
“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.
“there’s no maggi in this rice.”
geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”
whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”
suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”
“tread lightly.”
suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”
“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”
sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.
but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.
or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.
sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”
“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.
suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”
——
sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”
“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”
“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”
suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.
he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”
“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”
“in her apology letter?”
“Yes.”
oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”
“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.
“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”
suguru snatches the letter from his hands.
he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.
“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.
sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”
sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”
suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”
sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”
“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”
sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”
“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”
sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.
“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”
suguru nods. “go on,”
“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”
suguru and sato stay silent.
“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”
“aww,” sato coos.
“shut up.”
but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”
“already did.”
suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.
dear y/n,
i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore.
i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good.
i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you.
i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve.
i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it.
— sukuna
sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”
“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”
he is, isn’t he?
suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”
sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.
“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”
SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!
taught by: nanami kento
“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
ΣΧ
the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.
they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.
suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”
sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”
suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”
sato and sukuna perk up.
sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.
“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”
“uh oh.”
“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”
suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”
sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.
he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?
he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”
“pairin.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”
geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”
the boys go quiet.
for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.
“we need to start planning that final task.”
# SHOW TIME !
“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”
nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”
the theatre hall is humongous.
thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.
sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.
god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.
but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.
they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”
“i won’t be depressed.”
“he’ll be depressed!”
nanami only pinches his nose.
“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”
nanami perks up. “BL?”
sato frowns. “sato?”
“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”
nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.
and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”
——
each speech passes by way too fast.
well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.
god, he misses you.
he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”
sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?
he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”
———
sukuna is not ready.
but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.
suguru claps his back. “go.”
and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.
you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.
that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.
in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”
naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”
you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.
on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.
“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”
some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.
“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.
“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”
gasps fill the arena.
“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.
“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”
the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.
you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.
he continues his speech.
“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”
the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.
“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.
“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.
“come back to me.”
the theatre is silent.
and then it roars
single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.
you’re not at your seat.
why?
did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.
the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.
NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?
BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.
taught by: y/n l/n
“never had a bitch like me in your life”
❤︎
when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.
faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”
he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?
sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”
“she left.”
sato and suguru freeze.
suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”
“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.
“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”
suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.
“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”
if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.
but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.
under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.
but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.
suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”
she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”
she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.
room 102. got it.
# SHOW TIME !
ryomen sukuna comes in alone.
the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.
sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.
you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.
“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.
you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”
“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”
sukuna stays quiet.
you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”
sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”
“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”
he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.
he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”
his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”
his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”
you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.
“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.
“for what?”
“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.
“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”
you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.
“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”
you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.
Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3
COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!
taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock
“there is no quote. i am a cock.”
❤︎
in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.
you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.
“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”
“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”
“you’re welcome, princess.”
it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.
“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”
“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.
“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”
“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.
“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”
“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”
and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”
his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.
your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.
you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”
he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”
he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”
you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”
“you’ll come again, pretty.”
he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.
“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.
he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”
and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”
you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.
sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.
you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”
you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”
“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”
he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“
your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.
“i love you,” he rasps.
“i love you too.”
you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
——
“you have a lot of explaining to do.”
sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”
“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”
“but what if i don’t want to?”
“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.
but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.
“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.
“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”
you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.
“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”
“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”
“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”
“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”
“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”
his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.
you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”
he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”
ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.
sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”
your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.
when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.
“what?” he says.
“you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”
sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.
“i love you,” you mumble.
he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”
COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“loving you is a loop.”
ΣΧ
in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.
sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.
you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”
“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”
“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”
sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”
“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”
sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.
he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”
you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.
“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”
sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.
sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”
“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.
the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”
“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”
toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.
toru drops the plate and runs away.
you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”
“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”
“i kissed him!”
sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.
“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”
sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.
sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.
when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.
“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”
“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”
and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.
‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.
‘i’m breaking up with you.’
sukuna’s blood runs cold.
‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??
so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.
i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.
sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’
sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.
and then he laughs.
because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.
and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.
he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.
and right beside it?
XO, YOUR EX HO 💋
SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.
#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !
XO, EX HOE end.
XO HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else ✦ frat!kuna fwb ✦ ongoing series
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ only. nsfw. angst. FAMILY DRAMA. a wholeeeeeee lot of plot. fwb. slight degradation. dumbification. sukuna’s thick happy trail. SEXTING. phone sex. dacryphilia. toxic frat culture. sukuna has ANGER issues. crying. toxic co-dependency. TRAUMA. domestic abuse. child abuse. depression. anxiety. wc: 22.6k
series masterlist ✮ previous chp ✮ next chp (coming soon)
the buzzing in sukuna’s ear was deafening.
all the blood in his body felt like it was burning through his skin. anger pounding behind his eyes as they stare at the red hand print on his little brother’s cheek.
the band on stage continues playing, a backdrop of chaos and cheering, all while sukuna stands completely still backstage. his heart pounds against his chest, cracking his ribs with boiling rage. the sweat builds on his face, and he slowly drags a finger towards kaori.
“…did you fucking touch my brother?”
choso, eyes rimmed red and glossy, glances up quickly at the familiar voice. his pupils grow wide at the sight of sukuna, shaking with rage. and already fallen off the edge…actively losing it.
kaori’s eyes widen in shock, her gaze drops to her hand then to her step-son. she swallows thickly. her short black bob lays flat on her head, a black skirt hugs her waist, as the rest flows, reaching her boney ankles. her formal attire stands out in the sea of casually under dressed teenagers and young adults. and none of it can hide the slight wrinkles around her neck, or the unnerving sensation that shoots through sukuna when she meets his gaze.
“choso said you weren’t here—“
she doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence when sukuna’s suddenly slamming the frail woman into the wall. choso’s eyes widen as sukuna’s frame towers over her with little effort. he ignores how his hand shakes, gripping the collar of her blouse, squeezing. every muscle in his body shifts, tightening his hold on her.
“I asked you a fucking question!” he shouts in her face. unbothered by the sudden looks of people backstage, including ino, who ran into the crowd to call for sukuna when the woman came in.
a few moments earlier….
ino’s standing beside mechamaru, the two watching over choso as he adjusts his guitar for the fourth time that night.
“dude it sounded fine before, now you’re just messing with it,” mechamaru exhales in exasperation.
choso’s brows pinch, “no, this chord is loose.”
“because you keep playing with it.”
“just give me a sec!” choso snaps.
the two boys glance at one another, looking down at their distraught friend. it’s obvious choso’s been on edge since they arrived. but the guy won’t give them a straight answer. instead he keeps fidgeting and messing with his guitar like there’s a fly constantly buzzing in his ear. to make matters worse, ino and mechamaru noticed sukuna coming in with a couple of his friends. last they heard, choso still hasn’t cleared the air with him. is that why he’s on edge?
“got it,” choso finally exhales.
unfortunately, the good news is immediately cut short when choso notices his bandmates looking like they’ve just been shot.
standing behind him is the uncanny woman that looks like a spitting image of their best friend. choso’s heart drops to his ass, and the blood drains from his face in seconds.
“choso.”
the unnerving sound of his name coming from this woman’s lips has a chill running down his spine. his sweat turns cold as he looks up from his seat on the ground, quickly moving to stand up. choso stands at nearly the same height as the tall skinny woma, maybe an inch or so taller.
“mom, how’d you—“
SLAP!
the sound rings so sharp it cuts through the muffled bass bleeding from the stage outside. choso freezes. completely still. his head jerked with the impact, black hair falling into his face as the sting blooms hot across his cheek. for a second, he doesn’t even process what happened. his body locks up as his brain tries to catch up. his eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares somewhere past her shoulder.
ino and mechamaru go dead silent. the two boys stand there like statues, shock written all over their faces as kaori lowers her hand with terrifying calmness. there’s no guilt at all, just that same unreadable expression.
“you lied to me,” she says coldly. the authority in her voice settles instantly, suffocating the space around them.
choso slowly lifts a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she actually hit him. it’s been years— his throat feels tight.
“choso,” she says again, sharper this time. “i’m speaking to you.”
his eyes flick up properly now, confusion and disbelief behind his eyes as he finally looks at her. then instinctively, his gaze darts toward ino and mechamaru.
his jaw clenches.
“can we talk after?” he mutters quickly, voice rougher than normal. “i’m about to go up—”
“no. we’re talking now.”
her fingers wrap around his wrist immediately. it tightens, making choso stiffen as she pulls him toward the farther corner backstage, away from the noise and people passing through, heels clicking.
the second they’re out of earshot, mechamaru’s neck nearly snaps as he whirls toward ino. “why is she here?!” he whisper-shouts.
ino throws his arms up, drumsticks still clutched in one hand. “i don’t know! that was a hard fucking slap too—”
both boys suddenly glance back toward the corner kaori dragged choso to, he’s sitting on a stool as she stands in front of him. and the reality settles ugly in their stomachs. maybe this is exactly why sukuna didn’t want choso around her alone. and neither of them have to voice that realization.
“should we—”
“i don’t want him killing us though—”
“he’ll kill us for sure, but if we call him he probably won’t!” ino cuts in frantically, already moving. “c’mon!”
the two practically trip over themselves rushing out backstage. the second they hit the main crowd, the noise slams into them full force. music shaking the grass, colored lights flashing violently overhead from the strobes attached to the makeshift stage, and bodies shove shoulder-to-shoulder near the elevated stage as another band screams through their set on stage. the battle of the bands was the first huge event kicking off summer break, and the turnout at the rented park is insane and only getting bigger as more people flood in.
finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.
“i honestly don’t know which way he went!” mechamaru yells over the music, shoving past a group near the bar trucks.
“split up!” ino shouts back immediately. “call me if you find him!”
they separate without another word, because somewhere in this packed park is a six-foot-four soccer captain with face tattoos, a terrifying temper, and enough presence to make grown men shut up when he walks into a room, and right now they need him.
eventually, ino spots a familiar head of pink hair through the sea of people. well….two heads.
an almost identical, much smaller version of the man he’s looking for sits perched on sukuna’s shoulders, glow sticks hanging around yuuji’s neck as the eleven-year-old screams along to the music like he’s completely lost his mind. sukuna isn’t much better, one tattooed arm is hooked around yuuji’s leg while he shouts something toward the stage, feral under the flashing lights.
ino nearly cries in relief, “sukuna!”
he starts shoving through people immediately, bumping shoulders and muttering rushed apologies until he finally reaches the college student. his hand grabs the back of sukuna’s plain black tee.
sukuna whips around instantly, ready to shove whoever grabbed him, then stops. “ino—”
“there’s a small problem!” the drummer’s panting, sweat dripping down his temple from sprinting around the park venue. sukuna’s expression shifts immediately. brows pinching sharply as his stomach drops before ino even finishes speaking. he can see it all over the kid’s face.
“choso’s mom is here.”
everything happens at once. yuuji yelps as sukuna grabs him off his shoulders without warning, shoving the younger boy toward gojo’s side. the white-haired man barely catches him properly before sukuna’s already gripping ino hard by the arm.
“where?”
“backstage—she took him—”
“watch him,” sukuna snaps toward gojo and geto, voice suddenly low cutting through the music.
gojo’s grin vanishes instantly. geto’s brows pinch instantly, that tone isn’t new to them. “for sure,” gojo says immediately.
ino doesn’t hesitate. he spins around and starts forcing his way back through the crowd, sukuna right behind him. except “behind” isn’t even the right word, his shoulder slams into strangers hard enough to make them stumble, dark eyes fixed ahead as the noise around him dulls. his pulse pounds violently in his ears with every step, ino’s words looping over and over in his head.
choso’s mom is here. his jaw clenches so hard it hurts. and somewhere deep in his chest— something ugly starts waking up.
present….
“I asked you a fucking question!”
kaori raises a hand to her step-son’s forearm. lips parting as her eyes dart over his hardened expression, his eyes flashing red, every muscle on his body protruding as sweat beads down his forehead.
“are you deaf?—“ he snaps after she takes too long to respond. his head snaps to choso still sitting on the stool. “she hit you?”
choso stands, head dropping and hand covering his face. his heart pounds against his chest.
“choso—“
choso’s clenches his jaw, blood boiling.
“choso—“
“forget about it!” choso snaps.
sukuna suddenly lets go of kaori, taking the single step to uncover choso’s face. his other hand cups his chin, tilting his face up, and it all hits him at once. the tears building behind his brother’s brown eyes, looking away from the older as he bites down on his teeth, and the bright red hand print on his right cheek.
kaori smooths out the front of her wrinkled blouse, eyes cold as ice.
“choso lied to me,” she says flatly, but not to sukuna, she never talks to him, it’s always at him. “he told me the money was for cram school because he was falling behind in his classes and needed it for his finals.” her lip curls faintly as she gestures toward the backstage area and the unruly screaming crowd beyond the curtains. “then i find out it was for this.”
choso tries pulling away from sukuna’s grip, but sukuna’s frozen, completely still as he stares at the red handprint burning against his little brother’s cheek. the heat builds u see his skin, sweat collecting behind his neck.
“spending time with you has rubbed off on him, something I did not want to know.”
that finally makes sukuna’s eyes snap upward, sharp and furious as his gaze cuts to choso instead of her. “how would she know to give you that money?” he asks quietly, that tone is worse than yelling.
choso visibly shrinks, shoulders tightening as he avoids eye contact. “she asked to meet with me,” he mutters, uncomfortable. “and asked if i needed anything.”
sukuna’s jaw flexes hard enough to hurt. “so when I asked you, it was before that?” choso looks away. and that’s all he needs. sukuna’s head whips toward kaori so fast it nearly startles ino beside them. “I’m getting a fucking restraining order on your fucking ass.”
kaori scoffs immediately. “we both know that’s not an option.” she crosses her arms now, anger bleeding through her composed expression. “i’m more concerned about my son going around asking people for money over some ridiculous band competition while struggling in school—”
“choso isn’t struggling with shit!” sukuna barks. “he’s a fucking genius. that’s how he scammed your psycho ass in the first place.”
people nearby are definitely staring now. a few phones are raised before mechamaru immediately starts hissing at people to stop recording while ino frantically waves others back. choso looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.
“are you seriously praising him for lying?” kaori demands.
“to you? fuck yeah.” sukuna steps closer. towering. violent rage practically radiating off him. “actually, i’m disappointed he didn’t ask for more money.”
“ryo—” choso starts weakly, oozing with embarrassment.
“that’s what you get for going behind my back,” sukuna cuts over him, eyes locked onto kaori. “throw all the money you want at him. choso isn’t going anywhere near you.”
“choso,” kaori says again softly, completely ignoring sukuna, that sets him off. choso’s face twists, confusion and guilt and stress all mixing together as he looks between them. “you know i’m just disappointed in your actions,” kaori tells him, voice suddenly gentler in a terrifying way that makes sukuna see red. “you can tell me if you’re having trouble asking your grandfather for things.”
the faux sweetness hits choso like another slap. sukuna sees the hesitation and confusion immediately. choso’s chest tightens, and suddenly sukuna’s moving again.
“stop fucking talking to him like that,” he snarls, voice low and shaking with fury. “jus’ ‘cause he answered your texts doesn’t mean you can suddenly care about him.”
“ry—” choso tries, voice tight.
sukuna doesn’t even hear him.
“you’re outta your fucking mind if you think giving him money is gonna win him over.” sukuna spits at kaori.
“i was helping my son,” kaori fires back immediately.
“your son?” sukuna laughs harshly. “now he’s your son?”
“ryo,” choso says again, louder this time, but sukuna’s blood is roaring too loudly in his ears to listen.
“i didn’t forget the way you fucking treated them,” sukuna steps closer. “some mother leaving bruises on her fucking kid, making him all jumpy. not after the shit you did with me—“
“i said stop!”
the shout cuts through backstage so sharply that even the people shouting over the music nearby go quiet for half a second. sukuna freezes. choso’s chest heaves. his face is bright red now from humiliation and anger. his eyes are glossy with held back tears that only seem to piss him off more.
“I don’t give a shit!” he snaps, voice cracking despite how hard he’s trying to keep it steady.
kaori’s expression shifts quick. “choso—”
“no—” he jerks away before she can touch him again, stumbling closer to sukuna, instinctively. “don’t— don’t touch me.” his breathing is uneven. ino and mechamaru exchange nervous looks from a few feet away. “I don’t fucking care about anything other than playing tonight—that’s it!” choso gestures wildly.
sukuna’s jaw clenches.
“i can handle my own shit,” choso continues, breathing shakily now, attention now on his older brother. “ya don’t have to make a big deal outta something when I didn’t ask for it!”
sukuna’s eyes darken immediately. “the hell you mean by that?”
“i mean i’m not yuuji!” choso explodes. “you don’t have to hover over me every second like i’m two!” a thick ugly silence follows, even choso goes quiet after saying it, but he doesn’t take it back. instead he glances briefly at his older brother, than at his mother, his jaw tightens. “i’ll pay you back the money by the end of summer,” choso snaps, eyes burning now. “so you can be disappointed at me, somewhere else.”
the words hit hard, then choso walks away, angry. truly angry.
sukuna watches his younger brother shove past the backstage clutter, shoulders stiff and fists clenched at his sides and for a split second, the resemblance is almost nauseating. not in appearance — sukuna’s always known choso looked too much like her — but in their temperament. the rage settling ugly beneath his skin until it explodes. sukuna never really noticed how much of himself choso inherited. but kaori notices it immediately, especially when her expression flickers.
choso reaches ino and mechamaru, both immediately crowding him with questions.
“dude are you okay?”
“what the hell was that?”
“did she seriously—”
“i’m fine,” choso cuts sharply. the three fall quiet, choso’s fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar before he looks toward the stage entrance where the current band is finishing up.
“we’re up next,” he says, jaw locked. “and we’re gonna fucking win this.”
ino blinks, then quickly grins. “HELL YEAH,” he shouts, shaking choso’s shoulders.
mechamaru nods quickly beside him, still nervous, but determined all the same. and just like that, the three disappear further backstage toward the stage call area, leaving sukuna alone with kaori.
sukuna’s sharp eyes cut through her, there was no holding back now that choso was gone. his hand snaps back onto her blouse, fingers curling in the fabric until it bunches tight and strains under his grip. he yanks her forward, lifting her just enough that her heels barely touch the ground.
“i’m going to fucking kill you,” he spits. his voice is low, and shaking with controlled rage. it was worse than shouting. “I’ll rip your arm straight out of your body if you—” his grip tightens again, the words weren’t enough to contain what he meant. “—ever lay a finger on him.”
kaori’s breath catches. she’s on her tippy toes now, frozen, sweat gathering at her temple, and for the first time, something in her cracks. this wasn’t another intimidation tactic or performance. it was a real threat from sukuna.
he leans in closer, voice dropping even further, every word precise, already imagining how it would happen. “i won’t even give you a chance to breathe,” his eyes are deep crimson blood, “if you touch them again… i’ll rip you in half before you even know what’s happening.”
and with that, sukuna lets go of kaori, and she stumbles back a step, catching herself with a sharp inhale.
“keep threatening me,” kaori spits, chin lifting even as her voice wavers at the edges. “I don’t take childish boys seriously—“
something in sukuna snaps again. “i’m gonna fucking kill you, you cunt—”
he steps forward, already closing the distance with terrifying quickiness— and then an arm locks around his chest and yanks him backward.
“what the fuck?!” sukuna twists immediately, muscles tensing as he fights the grip, but it holds him steady, pulling him off his line like he weighs nothing. he doesn’t even need to see the face at first, he just knows from the strength alone.
toji.
sukuna digs his heels in, shoulders straining as he tries to wrench free. “get off me,” he snaps, still fighting forward, still locked on kaori like she’s the only thing in the room. but toji doesn’t budge. he just drags him back another step, grounding him with pure force, cutting through the athletes strength with some struggle.
“get a fucking grip!” toji snaps in his ear. he uses every muscle in his body to knock sukuna off his weight again and drag him further away.
sukuna digs his fingers into toji’s forearms, but it’s too late when he’s pushed back to the exit, joining the crowd cheering the current band.
“fuck!” sukuna shouts, receiving a hard shove from toji until he’s completely knocked back. the rage had boiled way over, that toji standing in front of him, just as pissed, then he’s gripping sukuna’s collar, bringing him to his face, fist raised.
“are you fucking seventeen again!” he shouts, the music and chaos around them made everything much calmer than what was actually happening. “I’ll knock your teeth out if you don’t calm down!”
sukuna still struggles—
PUNCH
the hit directly lands on sukuna’s eye, sending him back, but toji keeps him up. fist curling tighter. “you wanna fuck everything for your brothers? do you!”
“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits on toji, just to receive another punch directly in his solar plexes, almost knocking the wind straight out of him.
his breath catches, a few people nearby step away in surprise. the ocean crashes in the distance. toji still grips his shoulder. sukuna is hunched over, catching his breath, back rising and falling like a beast ready to attack. but instead, sukuna aggressively shrugs toji’s hand away.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he repeats under his breath.
toji rubs his face, chest heaving with his own rage.
“woah! what happened!” yuuji shouts over the music, eyes wide as sukuna finds them in the crowd again, toji not far behind.
gojo, geto, megumi, and now nanami, all glance up, all stunned at the bruise slowly forming around sukuna’s eye. sukuna looks furious still, not explosive like before, but still pissed. the anger settling deep. his chest still rises hard under each breath, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.
toji walks a few steps behind him, equally pissed, rubbing at his own face.
“jesus christ,” gojo says first, brows lifting. “did you get jumped?”
“shut the fuck up,” sukuna mutters instantly.
his voice comes rougher than usual, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand standing back beside his brother.
yuuji stares up at him wide-eyed. “did someone hit you?!”
sukuna finally looks at him then. his expression doesn’t soften much, but something in his eyes shifts slightly at the sight of his little brother hovering there, worried out of his mind.
“i’m fine,” sukuna says shortly.
yuuji clearly doesn’t buy it. “your eye’s all swollen.”
“and?” sukuna shoots back, dismissive, though the edge in his tone dulls just a little. “still standing.”
toji scoffs behind him. “barely.”
sukuna cuts him a glare sharp enough to kill. for a second, it looks like sukuna might start yelling again, but then he just exhales hard through his nose and leans his head back instead. the ocean crashes somewhere behind them. music shaking the ground beneath their feet.
geto studies the tension between the two men carefully. “what the hell happened?”
“nothing,” sukuna says immediately. yuuji still lingers beside him, nervous energy practically radiating off him, and sukuna notices immediately.“quit staring at me,” he mutters, finally shoving lightly at yuuji’s shoulder. “i said i’m fine.”
yuuji doesn’t even get the chance to respond before sukuna suddenly grabs him by the waist and lifts him back onto his shoulders like nothing happened. except everyone notices the slight wince that flashes across sukuna’s face. his hand brushes his stomach for half a second, fingers pressing there instinctively before he adjusts yuuji’s legs over his shoulders again.
toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.
“choso is up,” sukuna says instead, voice flat, already looking back toward the stage through the crowd.
yuuji steadies himself, hands gripping the top of sukuna’s head as he tries to lean down to see his brothers bruised eye. “are you sure you’re okay?”
“you ask too many questions,” sukuna mutters. but he keeps one hand locked around yuuji’s calf anyway, secure and steady despite the bruise forming around his eye and the ache spreading through his ribs.
gojo watches the whole thing with raised brows. “wow. tough guy for real.”
“say another word and i’ll knock your teeth out.”
“there he is,” geto sighs. nanami shakes his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitches for barely a second. behind them, toji exhales through his nose, still irritated, but at least sukuna has settled for the time being.
everyone’s attention shifts fully to the stage as choso’s band gets called up. megumi sits on toji’s shoulders, arms loosely resting over his dad’s head as the whole group drifts closer to the center front where the crowd thickens. lights flare across the stage, as the anticipation of the next band rolls through the audience. yuuji immediately lights up the second he spots choso stepping into place.
“CHOSOOOO!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs, bouncing on sukuna’s shoulders. sukuna tightens his grip instinctively, keeping him steady. the motion pulls at his bruised ribs again, but he doesn’t show it beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.
“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”
sukuna exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on the stage. choso stands under the lights now, adjusting his position at the mic, shoulders rolling back shaking off everything that happened earlier. the crowd noise builds around him, voices overlapping, everyone cheering.
gojo cups his hands around his mouth. “YOU GUYS GOT THIS!!”
on stage, choso finally looks up, and for a split second, his eyes find the group in the crowd.
yuuji waves wildly like his life depends on it. “you got this choooo!!!!”
sukuna doesn’t wave, but he holds eye contact with choso for a moment longer than anyone else, steady and sharp. the bruise on his face not visible under the shifting lights.
choso inhales sharply, shaking off the rest of his anxiety. sweat building from the nerves and heat. and then they start.
the first hit of ino’s drums sends the entire crowd shouting with excitement…
sukuna’s chest tightens. the uneasiness weighs on his shoulders as a dark pit quietly stirs awake inside him. though his focus remains ahead, eyes locked on his brother performing their first set, there’s that lingering anger that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
not since he was seventeen, standing by the intersection, red and blue lights flashing across his face, and his dad’s car jammed slightly beneath the truck, completely crushed.
“shit—that’s your dad’s car?” kashimo repeats, as if saying it again will snap sukuna back.
but he’s already moving. his feet stumble off the sidewalk before his mind catches up, shoving straight into the street. his skull is split open by the sirens screaming loudly. ambulances and police cars clogging the street. the headlights blur his vision, only seeing the wreck straight ahead.
“SUKUNA—!” kashimo pushes after him, nearly slipping as he forces his way through the growing crowd. officers notice immediately when the two teenagers duck beneath the tape.
“hey! kid—!” an officer grabs for sukuna’s arm.
sukuna violently shoves him off. “THAT’S MY DAD —!”
his voice sounds unfamiliar to him as it tears straight out of his throat, making the officer stumble back just enough for sukuna to break free and start running the second he sees paramedics dragging someone out from the passenger side.
his stomach drops.
the familiar body is pulled out, and all he sees is his father covered in deep red blood.
blood coats his face, runs down his neck, soaks through the front of his shirt. glass sticks to his skin. bruises already spread dark beneath the flashing lights while firefighters shout over each other around the wreck. controlling the truck from starting a fire. sukuna drops beside his dad so fast it scrapes the skin clean off his knees.
“shit—shit, shit, shit—” his hands shake violently as he looks at all the blood.
one of the paramedics tries pulling him back. “kid, you need to move—”
“dad?” sukuna grabs onto jin’s arm anyway, panic rising so violently inside him it feels like he’ll throw up. “dad, what the fuck—? WHAT THE FUCK?!”
his voice cracks at the end, eyes wide as jin tries to respond but only wheezing comes out. blood covers one of his eyes as he struggles to open them properly. every breath sounds wet and broken.
“r-ry—” his fingers twitch upward weakly, trying to reach him.
and suddenly sukuna can’t fucking breathe, the anger explodes through his chest making him dizzy. “YOU SHOULD’VE STAYED WITH ME!” sukuna shouts, tears burning hot behind his eyes. “WHY DID YOU GO AFTER HER?!”
jin barely seems aware of the wreck around him, or the paramedics putting a mask on him, or the blood soaking through his clothes. instead, his entire focus stays on his eldest son kneeling beside him with bloodshot eyes, and an anger he can’t seem to ease.
“ryo…” he wheezes painfully. “men…” his hand finally reaches sukuna’s hand, smearing blood across his skin.
behind them, paramedics pull another person from the opposite side of the car, alive and walking. kaori stumbles against the police cruiser, hysterical, mascara running down her face. her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused.
“ma’am,” an officer says sharply, catching her arm before she falls again. “have you been drinking tonight?”
another officer immediately steps in beside him after smelling it. kaori starts crying harder, words slurring together into panicked nonsense.
sukuna looks up. then something inside him twists… his father is laying in front of him and she’s standing.
“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits, shoving himself to his feet so fast his knees nearly give out beneath him. jin’s bloodied hand slips from his sleeve, still reaching after him weakly.
“ryomen…”
but sukuna already storms forward. an officer immediately moves between him and kaori. “hey—hey! back up!”
“get the fuck out of my way!” sukuna barks, trying to shove past him again, completely losing it.
kaori sits against the side of the ambulance now while a paramedic presses gauze against the cut on her forehead. another wraps a blanket around her shoulders despite the smell of alcohol practically soaking the air around her. she looks up just in time to see sukuna lunging toward her and for the first time that night, genuine fear crosses her face.
“you did this!” sukuna screams.
two officers grab him before he reaches her. sukuna fights violently in their grip, rage tearing through him he can barely see anything besides red.
“HE WENT AFTER YOU!” he shouts. “HE FUCKING WENT AFTER YOU!”
“kid, calm down—”
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”
behind him, paramedics suddenly start shouting near jin’s stretcher. one of them yells for another medic, and starts pushing sukuna’s father faster toward the ambulance.
what followed turned into a blur that sukuna’s mind never fully managed to piece together afterward. his body moved before his mind did. one second officers held him back, paramedics shouting around him, and the next he climbed into the ambulance beside his father while someone yelled that he couldn’t ride along unless he stayed seated.
sukuna didn’t even remember agreeing, he just remembered the inside of the ambulance feeling freezing cold, remembered the medic cutting jin’s shirt open, and remembered the blood. so much blood.
sukuna sat there with blood covering both hands, staring while they worked on his father right in front of him. jin barely stayed conscious the entire ride. every now and then his eyes opened halfway, searching weakly until they landed on sukuna again. like he needed to make sure he was still there. and every single time, sukuna felt something twist apart inside his chest.
then the hospital lights replaced the sirens. people moved around him constantly, nurses, doctors, officers asking questions—but sukuna stayed hunched over in the waiting room chair with his elbows on his knees and his father’s blood smeared across his hands. he stared at the floor so long he lost track of everything.
the automatic doors eventually opened again. heavy footsteps quickly coming towards him. toji. and then his gramps following close behind him.
“ryomen,” toji says immediately, breath uneven like he rushed there as fast as possible. “what happened?”
sukuna doesn’t answer. he just sits there, shoulders tense, brows pinched tight while his fingers curl harder against his palms. staring at the blood in the creases of his hands. then he mutters. quietly. low. “she killed him.”
toji’s expression shifts instantly. “what?”
“she killed him,” sukuna repeats, harsher this time, the words scraping out of his throat. “she killed him.”
sukuna barely notices the two men hovering around him. he keeps staring at the blood on his hands instead. his scraped knees. his football uniform still on.
sukuna genuinely can’t tell how many hours or minutes pass. the hospital waiting room grows quieter as the night drags on. his grandfather quietly rests his head back, while toji paces near the windows like he might punch straight through the glass. and then finally, the doors open again, a doctor walks out. everyone freezes immediately. and sukuna doesn’t need to hear the words, before the doctor even speaks.
he’s dead.
and it’s her fault.
the hard yank on his hair snaps sukuna straight back into the present. music crashes through the field while people scream their heads off around them. yuuji sitting on top of sukuna’s shoulders has one hand gripping sukuna’s phone while the other fully tugs on his brothers hair to keep balance.
“GRAMPS DO YOU SEE HIM?!” yuuji screams into the phone loud enough to blow out the speaker.
gramps voice crackles back immediately. “you keep shaking the damn phone!” the camera angle violently jerks around. all yuuji can see is the top half of the old man’s forehead shoved way too close to the screen. “stay still!”
“OHHHHHHHHH!!!!” yuuji completely loses his mind the second choso steps up to the mic again.
the entire field erupts with him.
ino’s drums shake through the speakers while the guitars kick in harder, the stage lights flashing over choso and his band as they absolutely light up the crowd. even nanami cups his hands around his mouth to yell, whatever dignity he usually carries cracking under the sheer energy of the performance. gojo screams something incomprehensible beside him. geto laughs while shoving him. megumi claps from toji’s shoulders with far more enthusiasm than he’d ever show on a regular day.
and somehow yuuji’s excitement finally drags sukuna with it. the tension in his chest loosens for the first time all night as yuuji bursts into louder cheering.
the two brothers start yelling toward the stage together, voices getting swallowed by the music and chaos around them while choso stands under the lights. and sukuna’s resolve hits him that very moment too.
he’s not letting these two out of his sight.
the celebrations, surprisingly, continued through the night until all the performers were done.
sukuna and the boys watched in the audience as all the bands crowded onto the stage and the promoters stood in the middle with a list and began announcing the six bands that will be proceeding to the semi-finals in two weeks.
“DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTING!” yuuji starts the cheers, sitting back on sukuna’s shoulders. the rest quickly join, and as the four bands are announced, the chanting grows louder. the crowd joining, a universal want for choso’s band, death paintings, to be one of the semi-finalists.
“and the final band to make it into the semi finals is….” the host waits for the anticipation to simmer, but it’s not realized with how unbelievably loud the chanting has gotten for different bands, but the loudest being for— “DEATH PAINTINGS!!”
—
the culmination of celebration among the group extends to choso. him and his two friends are on cloud nine after the announcement, riding the adrenaline. somehow, choso manages to push everything else aside that almost swallowed the entire night.
people keep stopping him before he can even take three steps, congratulating the band, asking questions, slapping him on the back. toji leaves before everyone else, megumi staying behind with the group as security pushes the crowd out of the venue field and toward the beach nearby. bonfires burn in the distance and music continues from portable speakers.
everyone was distracted, except sukuna. his decision settled during the performance and by the time they return home, well after midnight, the house felt exhausted. choso’s friends immediately crash his room. megumi sleeping in yuuji’s room without complaint. doors shut, voices fading until silence settles over the house.
sukuna sits alone at the kitchen table. the only light comes from his laptop screen.
the black envelope sits beside it. opened.
a thick paper rests beneath his hand as he reads the letter again for what must be the hundredth time. an invitation. the one he’s waited to receive again for the past five years.
a la liga club. three weeks training with one of the best clubs in the world. three weeks that could change his entire future. the letter might as well weigh a hundred pounds. for weeks, sukuna pushed away replying, even when everyone brought it up. he had more pressing things at the front of his mind….
his eyes drift toward the hallway where his brothers sleep. a few months ago the answer would’ve been simple. obvious, even…but since kaori, everything’s changed.
his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.
Dear Recruitment Team,
Thank you for extending the invitation. I am honored by the opportunity and would like to formally accept.
But before finalizing travel arrangements, I would like to discuss one logistical matter. I am the primary caretaker of my two younger brothers and am responsible for their supervision and wellbeing during the summer. As a result, I will not be able to travel without them and would like to ask whether accommodations can be made for my brothers to accompany me during the three-week training period. Their presence would not interfere with my participation in training or any club obligations.
his eyes narrow, reading over the email. he isn’t asking, he already knows what he’s doing. if the club says yes, yuuji and choso are coming. end of discussion. if they don’t…then. his fingers flex, veins straining.
both outcomes will result in consequences. the first is choso, but after today, he doesn’t care if choso throws a fit, or if he gets called controlling or insane. he isn’t leaving them behind after tonight and remembering exactly how fast everything can disappear.
his fingers resume moving.
I understand this is an unusual request, but I wanted to address it before confirming. If necessary, I would be happy to discuss the situation further and provide any information you may need.
Thank you again for this opportunity. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Ryomen Sukuna Itadori
sukuna leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. for a moment, the silent churning deep in his chest twists… the lingering feeling that’s been pushed returning. a familiar one that’s ruled his life for years. bad things happen whether you’re ready or not. people leave whether you hold onto them or not. life keeps moving whether you’re scared of it or not. and if that’s true—
his gaze drops back to the laptop. the cursor hovers over the send button. the house remains completely silent. inside their rooms, his brothers sleep peacefully, completely unaware that their summer plans are about to change.
SEND
the email vanishes.
for several seconds he simply stares at the screen. then he reaches over, grabs the black envelope, and crushes it in his fist. three weeks in spain. suck it up.
—
the following two weeks went by with a breeze. aside from two separate incidents in two completely different places. one unraveled in the itadori household a few days after the battle of the bands tournament, and the second was in a certain hospital staircase that same day.
your jaw tenses. shoko quietly stands beside you, your hands tucked behind your backs. a resident stands across from you while an attending stands front and center. the staircase feels too small and you already know this isn’t about a patient, glancing at shoko beside you.
the attending, your father, removes his glasses, folding them in his hand. “you know why we’re having this conversation?”
you shift your weight, shoko glances at you. heat crawls up from the back of your neck. you finally respond with a small shrug. the resident cringes, your father doesn’t. “you asked shoko to ask a resident physician to prescribe medication to you.”
you swallow thickly biting your cheek. shoko opens her mouth, but your dad holds a hand up.
“I’ll give you a chance. I’m asking her to answer first.” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. which you do.
“i asked a question,” you clear your throat. “I was asking shoko to ask for me.”
“you put them in an inappropriate position,” he cuts, silencing you in seconds.
your chest tightens, heat spreading to your face now. the embarrassment sits heavy on your chest now. you see shoko try to raise her hand beside you again.
“can I—“ the attending finally turns his head to shoko. “we were just talking.” she clears her throat, “we both didn’t know what the policy was on—“
“the policy is your supervisors can’t prescribe you medication,” he snaps.
shoko nods, glancing at the resident, who’s supervising this summer’s undergrad students, including her and you. “yeah, I was told.”
you scratch your wrist awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to put anyone in an…inappropriate position.” you wet your lip, pushing the coil crawling up your throat. “it won’t happen again.”
he processes your apology. his eyes flick to the resident and shoko, dismissing them. shoko glances at you as she follows the resident out, the staircase door shutting behind her. the silence grows louder with just the two of you. you inhale sharply, your head falling back, hands covering your face.
“dad—“
“do you need a new prescription?”
“no,” you cut, hands shielding you from his gaze.
“then why did you ask? have you spoken to your doctor about this?”
“I’m not—“ you stop, taking a deep breath. “I don’t need another prescription. and I told you already I’ve been talking to my doctor. I was just asking a question— I was just stressed.”
“why? you’ve done all this before,” he cuts, brows furrowed, and arms crossed in confusion.
“I’m stressed about other stuff,” you exhale, hands falling, face still burning from the humiliation earlier.
“what other stuff?” he pushes. genuinely confused about what you could be worrying about. “you don’t have classes or exams. you know everything. if you have any questions you can ask me—“
“yeah, I’m worried about other stuff, like generally,” you huff, rubbing your face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“you’re not taking any medication now?” he changes the subject back, brushing off your concerns to push his own out, “jennie told me you weren’t when she visited.”
your teeth clench, rubbing your eye, “yeah, I don’t need it anymore. I haven’t had them since finals.”
his eyes narrow, you can see the concern pinching his brows. “I don’t have a problem if you still need to take them. you know that—“
“yeah, but I don’t need them,” your stomach curls tighter, especially when he glances over you like…like you’re causing him more stress. it’s confusing, you know tjat. saying you don’t need any more medication, but then asking a resident a question about whether they can give you some for stress. it doesn’t make sense, and at this point you’re getting frustrated with yourself. “it’s not a big deal. next time I just won’t ask anyone anything,” you mutter.
“we’re having a conversation, so don’t do that,” he shakes his head in disappointment. the pit in your stomach growing at the sight. “I want to understand why you asked.”
you stomach churns, “it’s fine.”
the silence stretches between you, then you finally decide to leave.
“you should go home,” he steps to block the door.
you barely blink, the comment rolling off your back as you hum. “great.”
your father exhales through his nose. “i’m serious.”
“i know.”
“you don’t sound like you know.”
your jaw tightens, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. “can i go now?” you ask.
he stares at you for another second before stepping aside. the staircase door swings open and you leave. your shoes slap against the floor as you move through the hallway. nurses pass, residents pass, families pass, and it all irritates you. you don’t even realize how fast you’re walking until another set of footsteps catches up beside you.
“hey.” you don’t look over. shoko keeps a quick pace beside you anyway. “hey.”
“what?” you stop.
the word comes out harsher than intended. shoko is unfazed, “i’m sorry.”
you glance at her. the two of you standing by the lockerroom. “for what?”
“for telling the resident.”
“yeah well you didn’t tell on me.”
“still.”
you put the code in before entering the locker room, shoko follows. “still what? i asked a question and apparently that’s illegal.”
“that’s not what i mean,” shoko sits on the bench as you take your backpack out.
you sigh, “i know what you meant.” you start changing. “it’s just annoying that I was scolded like that and I didn’t even wanna do this stupid ass program in the first place. no offense,” you start rambling. “but seriously, how many times does this make it—like the fifth freaking time I get yelled at in front of these residents and I haven’t even done anything that crazy. asking a question?! god forbid!” you throw your hands up in sarcastic defense. you scoff at the situation rolling your eyes.
“this whole thing is just a humiliation ritual of being a fucking doormat, and having every single person around me be the biggest ops ever—not you,” you put your shirt on, pulling your jeans up right after. “let’s bet how much shit I’m gonna get if I just mention to jennie how annoyed I am,” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what she’ll say. “if yOU doN’t LiKe it sO mUCh jusT qUiT,” you mimic her voice.
shoko, who has been quietly listening, stifles her own laugh. “why do you let her get under your skin?”
you deadpan. “she is the only person that can ragebait me until i wanna tear my hair out,” you’re basically clawing at your skin. “can’t even complain about anything anymore,” you mutter more to yourself. “whatever.”
shoko gives you a sympathetic look.
“call me when you finish, I’ll come pick you up,” you conclude, waiting for shoko’s hum before leaving.
and just a few miles away, another incident was unfolding in the itadori garage.
“what?” choso’s voice cuts through the room. “you’re lying.”
“you don’t want a free vacation?”
“it’s not a free anything! i’m not going to spain! the tournament—”
“yeah, the finals are the day before our flight, still lying—”
“i’m not lying! when we win we’re gonna be meeting with producers and stuff—”
“and stuff,” sukuna laughs. “you can zoom in.”
“that’s not the same thing!”
“sounds the same.”
“it literally isn’t!”
the garage erupts. the old fan rattles uselessly in the corner, guitar cables snake across the floor and choso stands in the middle, face red with frustration while sukuna lounges against the workbench like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week.
“i’m not missing opportunities because you’re going to spain!” choso shouts.
sukuna shrugs, “good thing i’m not asking.”
“you can’t do that!”
“watch me.”
“ryomen!”
“choso!”
the younger teen looks seconds away from committing a felony, his jaw tightens, anger bubbling dangerously, “you’re possessively controlling.”
“shocker,” sukuna replies lowly, checking his phone after it buzzes.
“you can’t just drag people across the world!”
“sure i can.”
“i’m sixteen!”
“exactly.”
choso makes a strangled noise just as the garage door suddenly slides open.
“hey, i brought—” ino freezes, a pizza box hangs from one hand. his eyes dart between the brothers. “…oh.”
“tell him he’s insane!” choso shouts, voice cracking and pointing at the tattooed brother lounged in the corner on his phone.
“tell him i’m right,” sukuna says at the same time with less effort as his younger brother.
ino slowly starts backing out. “nope.”
choso’s jaw clenches, “ino.”
ino shakes his head more, “no.”
“ino,” choso’s words strain.
“naaahhhh man.” the teen points at both of them, pizza box fumbling. “last time i got involved in your family drama i got interrogated by psycho satan.” he means sukuna.
“that’s dramatic,” sukuna snorts.
“you threatened me,” ino huffs.
“that’s different,” sukuna casually scratches his large tatted bicep, with an added shrug.
ino frowns, “how is that different?!”
suluna shrugs, while the younger teen throws his hands in the air, choso’s black hair is messy and pushed out of his face from how much he’s run his hands through it. “he accepted the offer!”
“what offer?” ino asks.
“the spain one,” choso frowns, and sukuna eyes dart up, not realizing how many people knew about this offer. ino blinks, lips parting and eyes lighting up.
“…spain spain?”
“yes, spain spain,” choso snaps.
“like beaches?”
“yes.”
“europe?”
“yes!”
“yoooooo,” ino is smiling wide now, stepping further into the garage. “that’s so cool!”
“dude—“ choso snaps.
ino cringes, but the smile doesn’t go away, “sorry, but like DAAAAANG, remember a couple years ago, we talked about it—duuude,” ino’s attention shifts to sukuna, smiling wide. “congrats!!”
“what—stop glazing him!” choso interrupts, and ino holds back his tongue, conflicted.
“cool but like yeah, no, that’s actually insane, why does choso needa go with you? not cool,” ino falls in line.
choso relaxes just a bit, “thank you.”
“but also…” ino hesitates, and choso’s eyes narrows immediately.
“don’t.”
ino puts the pizza on the table, shrugging, “i’m just saying—”
“ino.”
“i mean…spain is kinda sick,” he plays devils advocate. and sukuna barks out a laugh.
“ino!” choso looks ready to throw his guitar right at his best friend. “you never help, shit friend.”
“he’ll get over it,” sukuna says to ino, who feels slightly guilty, opening the box to take out a slice while it’s hot.
“i won’t!” choso shouts, putting his guitar down.
sukuna ignores him, “he will.”
“i won’t!”
“you always do.” the words come out too casual, and for half a second, the garage falls quiet. choso’s jaw tightens, and sukuna’s grin fades slightly, watching his younger brother’s expression shift, the anger burning hotter. the same anger claws at sukuna’s own chest remebering why he has to force choso to come with him.
“I’m staying with gramps,” choso’s voice is lower. his own brain trying to wrap around the sudden information. he hadn’t even known that his brother accepted the offer when he wouldn’t even talk to anyone about it. and to find out he accepted it and was told it’s okay for him to bring his brothers without even asking him?!
“gramps is going to the lake with his war buds like he does every summers so yeah, you’re not staying here alone.” sukuna tsks, standing up. he glares at choso across the garage, waiting for choso to test him. the tension suddenly hits ino full force. the bickering had turned into something charged in a matter of seconds. his chewing slows, awkwardly.
“I’ll stay with ino,” choso pushes, eyes darting between sukuna’s.
“this lying shit?” sukuna scoffs pointing at ino without glancing at him.
ino chokes, coughing, “me?!!”
sukuna frowns, eyes narrowing sharply, “I fucking asked you if he saw that bitch of mom and you said no. that constitutes as lying.”
ino lowers his head.
“I told him not to say anything,” choso defends, “he’s my friend.”
“exactly why you’re not staying with him because he’ll lie and I won’t know if you see that woman again or not.” sukuna takes a step towards his brother.
“i took money from her,” choso tilts his head, clearly not afraid of the older as his eyes narrow. “I’m gonna give her that money back.”
“I don’t give a shit if you don’t or if you take more money from her. she owes you and yuuji a shit ton of money anyways,” sukuna stops in front of choso. an unknown look crossing the man’s face, and choso hesitates for a moment. “I have a problem that she laid her hands on you.”
choso’s jaw clenches, stepping away. “I stole money from her.”
“so you think you deserve to get hit?” sukuna snaps. choso rolls his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza, forcing himself to act casual. “she’s a toxic psycho.”
“whatever, man,” choso mutters, dismissing the conversation about his mother. an uncomfortable twist settling deep in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. “I don’t wanna talk about her with you.”
“why because I don’t sugarcoat how horrible she is?” sukuna scoffs. choso’s defensive attitude quietly triggers the older. choso rolls his eyes again, gaze locked at the pizza, but sukuna catches it and ino sinks further in the corner. “stupid ass teen,” sukuna grabs his keys from his pocket, walking towards the door, opening the garage. “fucking proving my damn point by acting stupid as fuck.”
sukuna scoffs, pissing himself off as the memories of this woman flood his mind. jaw tensing as he looks at choso turning away from him. “mothers don’t beat their kids, and she was more of dad’s fucking mental patient than a mom to you”
“how the fuck would you know!” choso finally snaps. “your mom left and my mom isn’t yours, I have my own memories!”
“the ones when you were two?” sukuna scoffs, walking towards the parked pick-up truck. “I doubt you remember shit before you were twelve,” sukuna says the comment without realizing the flame he lit.
“I remember you going to jail too and losing your first club offer,” choso spits. “great example compared to her. definitely my role model!”
sukuna stops dead in his tracks, jaw tightening, he glances over his shoulder and choso doesn’t back down. “you’re more like her than me or yuuji are, so it’s pretty hypocritical that I’m being forced to go to spain with another psycho.”
mechamaru had just parked his car and is exiting when he hears the yelling from his friend’s open driveway. ino has attempted to blend in with the couch, empty plate in his lap while choso’s chest heaves. the strings in his heart strain ignoring the unfamiliar look on his brothers face. especially when sukuna fiddles with his keys with one hand, the jangling fills the tense air, before sukuna licks his teeth.
“at least I’ve never hit you guys.”
the response is deeply honest that choso pauses, unable to respond. sukuna swings his keys between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck and walking down the driveway. he passes mechamaru silently, unlocking his truck.
the teens are left in defending silence minutes after sukuna’s already driven away. ino and mechamaru exchange looks, especially when choso disappears into the house to wash his face.
at some point the houses thin out and the ocean appears. the clouds hang low and heavy overhead, turning the late afternoon gray. rain threatening to fall any minute. sukuna parks in an empty lot overlooking the beach and kills the engine. his hands are locked around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
you’re more like her than me or yuuji are.
his jaw aches. choso hadn’t even sounded afraid when he said it, he was angry enough to mean it. sukuna drags both hands over his face, wishing he can claw at everything. “fuck.”
the word disappears, waves crashing against the shore, ahead as his phone vibrates inside. and miles away, parked beside an empty field, you do the same.
the hospital sits somewhere behind you, and your home is in the opposite direction, and neither destination sounds appealing. the engine is off. the windows are cracked. summer wind drifts through the car as you stare at absolutely nothing. your father’s voice rings around your skull making you rest your head against the window. you don’t want to go home or go back or do anything.
eventually your phone lights up.
after another few minutes of staring at the ocean, his hand finally reaches for his phone. notifications flood the screen, group chats, soccer shit, gojo being annoying, something from toji, and his thumb scrolls through the usual unopened messages until he sees a certain contact.
his thumb stops. three days ago.
crybaby: where’s the video of your brother’s band?
his gaze lingers. for some reason, that message irritates him less than everything else. he opens the chat and for a moment he considers not responding, his thumb mindlessly scrolls through your earlier conversation, until the photo you sent him fills his screen.
dumbass: they made it to the semifinals
a beat passes..
dumbass: i forgot to send the video
your phone vibrates against the passenger seat making you glance down and see his name, and despite the day you’ve had, despite everything, your chest loosens just a little.
crybaby: woww
crybaby: a whole 3 days later
crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me
sukuna snorts. his head tips back against the seat. outside, thunder rumbles somewhere over the water.
dumbass: good guesser
you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.
crybaby: haha u’re soo funny
sukuna scrolls through his camera roll. easily finding the video gojo had taken and sending it to you. you heart the message, and a few minutes later the texts flood in.
crybaby: WHAAAA
crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD
dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass
crybaby: ngl…I wasn’t expecting much
dumbass: rude
crybaby: ONLY BC I’ve gone to a few in the past and RARELY r they ever good
crybaby: NO OFFENSE
dumbass: I’m offended
you don’t realize the smile on your face as you watch another video sukuna sends. relaxing back in your seat, jaw agape.
crybaby: no like actually wth — ur brother’s voice is making me tear up
crybaby: it’s so angelic esp for a hard rock band
sukuna snorts.
dumbass: crybaby
crybaby: did I say CRY? I said TEAR UP smh smhh
a few beats pass, not long enough for you to fully exit your messages, but long enough to watch the little typing bubble appear then disappear, and then your face fills your screen.
….incoming FaceTime from dumbass….
your lips part, cheeks warming as you easily click accept, the call connecting. sukuna’s face fills your screen, the camera angle is terrible, but somehow he still looks unfairly attractive.
the lighting inside the truck is dim from the storm clouds outside, shadows cutting across the sharp lines of his face. his pink hair looks soft, a few strands hang loose across his forehead. his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black shirt, the dark markings curling up the side of his neck. his forearm rests against the driver’s side window, broad shoulders, strong jaw—you hate how hot he looks.
on the other side of the call, sukuna feels much the same.
he expected your voice, but there’s something about seeing your face. your hair is slightly messy from your long day. you’re leaning sideways against the drivers seat, cheek pressed against the headrest of your car seat. golden evening light spills through the window in front of you, softening everything. you look tired, but pretty…really pretty. something in his chest loosens.
your eyes blink slowly, then narrow, “what happened to your face?”
sukuna’s brow furrows, “what?”
you lean closer to the camera, “your eye.”
his hand immediately comes up, glancing at the mirror in front of him. forgetting about the faint bruise caused by toji a few days ago, and barely noticeable to anyone except apparently you.
his fingers brush beneath it. “nothing.”
you stare and sukuna stares looks back at his phone, “that’s not nothing.”
“it’s nothing.”
“yeah definitely,” you sarcastically quip.
“it’s literally nothing.” your expression flattens. his matches yours instantly. neither of you budge. the silence stretches then—
“did you get punched?”
the offended look that flashes across his face almost makes you laugh. “the fuck kind of question is that?” he snaps.
you shrug fast, “it’s a valid question.”
“no it isn’t.”
“it is, since that’s what people who get punched in the face look like,” you say, like you’re some expert.
“speaking from experience?” he tosses, irritation scratching at your questions.
“yeah,” you lie, and he probably knows that, but still he leans back in his seat again. “it definitely looks like you got a bruise.”
“yeah, because i play a contact sport,” he huffs. you squint suspiciously as he rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. “gojo elbowed me in the middle of a game.”
“see?” you point triumphantly. “that wasn’t hard.”
sukuna tsks, “you’re annoying.”
“i was curious,” you shrug.
“it’s a bruise.”
“on your face.”
“you sound like yuuji.” the corner of his mouth twitches, barely there, but enough for the tightness in both of your chests to ease just a little. your lips part, still looking at the bruise.
“does it hurt?” your voice is softer, allowing something warm to settle in sukuna’s chest.
a smirk tugs on the players lips. “yeah. you gonna come make me feel better?” the teasing has your thighs clenching. his voice is low, deep, watching your eyes dart off screen. “where are you right now?”
you shift in your seat, flipping the camera to do a 360 of your surroundings. sukuna notices your bag in the passenger seat, “you get off work?”
“yup left early,” you flip the camera back, your phone on your lap as you fix your necklace in the mirror.
“you ditched?”
you laugh, “no,” you pick your phone back up, “I was kicked out.”
sukuna whistles. “bad girl. what’d you do?”
you shrug, leaning back in your seat, “I punched a patient.”
sukuna’s eyes blow wide, “you’re lying.”
you snort, “obviously,” you smile, pretty lips glossy as you wet them. “just had a chat with my dad and he told me to go home.”
“are you home?”
you shake your head, tilting just a bit as you watch sukuna through the phone. the silence fills both your environments. “doesn’t look like you’re home.”
“got work soon,” he answers, eyeing the curve of your jaw as you look out the window as if you weren’t parked in a deserted lot. still he can’t help the churning in his stomach as you fiddle with your earrings, lips parting again.
“so you gotta go soon?”
sukuna can’t fully read your emotions through a shitty phone screen, but he can catch the slight sweetness in your tone. and that was enough to pull a subtle smirk from him. he’s fully resting his back against his seat, arm propped on the open window holding his phone, while the other rests on his lap.
“I have some time,” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing a tad when you hum. “you have something in mind?”
you wet your lip, eyes twinkling as you nod your head. “yeah, i wanted to ask you a question.” he smirks, letting you continue. “how fast did you cum when i sent you that picture on saturday?” sukuna’s smile falters. “because you sent me a pic like three minutes later.”
you really love to push his buttons. the scowl is written all over his face. “i was already on edge, so i was doing it for awhile before you even sent it.”
your smile grows, if possible, a devilish twinkle in your eyes. “so i really helped you cum, ryo, hmm?” you wet your lip, and the action, coupled up with your sultry tone, has sukuna’s pants growing tight, “you made a big mess. cumming all over yourself like that,” you tsk, teasingly. “do you always make a big mess when you play by yourself?”
sukuna’s jaw tightens, his crotch swelling from your teasing. the bulge pushing up against his jeans, just as his palm digs against the evidence. unable to hide the fact that you’re turning him on.
“don’t be embarrassed, ry,” you coo with faux sweetness. “big boys make messes too.”
a loud, strangled scoff, escapes the man’s mouth. cheeks hot, as you continue degrading him. “suddenly y’er all confident because I can’t pin you down from here?”
you shrug, little smirk still playing on those pretty lips of yours. fuck, he misses having those lips on him. kissing you deeply, swallowing your whines and strangled moans. “am I not allowed to make you feel better?”
“fucking teasing me,” he grunts, jaw tightening as he palms his bulge.
heat pools between your legs, face warm as you see his shifting. “did I make you hard?” the excitement was obvious in your tone.
“don’t act surprised,” he mutters, flipping the camera to see the big bulge he’s gripping over his jeans. sukuna see’s the dizzy like look you have, lips parting.
“take it out.”
he smirks. you’re a little perv. and not so surprisingly, you see the uncoordinated moving as he unbuckles his belt, the phone dropping then getting raised again to see the way he pushes the waistband of his black Calvin’s, dragging it down. his dark pubes not as well groomed as it usually is, and that has you biting back a whimper.
fuck fuck, you miss pressing your face there, licking the coarse hairs, kissing his base.
and finally his hand wraps around the chubby length, freeing his semi-hard cock in his car. thunder cracks in the distant, rain starting to pour.
“gonna keep telling me what to do, or do you want closeups?” he teases, stroking his base lazily, biting his lip.
you shift in your seat.
“spit on it—“
you already see his spit fly and hit his flushed cock, immediately making your cheeks sting.
“c’mon, gotta keep talkin’ to me like my personal slut,” he hasn’t done anything since spitting on his cock, waiting for you to continue your directions. if you’re gonna act all dominant, then he’ll give you all the control…at least when you’re separated by a phone screen.
“stroke your cock…slow,” you command, wetting your lip as you watch him, and he listens. a wave of quiet confidence floods your head at his submission. “rub your slit with your thumb…yeah…” your lips part watching him stroke his cock. “faster.”
his breath is heavy behind the phone, grip tightening when he reaches the base, before twisting his hand back up, thumb collecting his pre and spreading it to the rest of his cock.
“do you usually jerk off like this?” your lewd curiosity always makes him smirk.
“I’m taking your direction.”
“jerk off like you usually do then…I wanna see,” you interrupt.
he snorts, loosening his jaw, before his pace picks up, tugging on his impressive size, collecting more pre and doing his best to self lubricate. his grunts are slightly louder, sending heat to your pussy, you can already feel your drenched panties.
“let go.”
a strangled noise comes out of him as his hand lets go making his cock bob between his legs, his thighs flex, jaw tightening as more pre cum leaks out in humiliation. “fuck.” he runs his hand on his abs, lifting his shirt higher, watching his own cock throb and twitch mid-air. the weight angling his cock down.
“ow!”
he doesn’t fully realize what you’re doing, until you yelp. his brows pinch, eyes narrowing because your phone is no longer on your face, but on the ceiling of your car.
“what’re you doing?” his words fall on deaf ears, when you’re suddenly lifting the camera back up, and revealing the state you’re in. you’re completely naked from the waist down, shirt pushed above those beautiful tits, and your lips all wet from how much your biting them. “fuck, baby.”
you smile, pushing the drivers seat further back to give yourself space, cheeks hot as you spread your legs. “lemme see your face, ryomen.”
he easily flips the camera back. you blush seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. “you like risky stuff,” he points.
“I’m alone.”
“still public.”
your lips part, rubbing your nipple, slowly teasing yourself. his eyes darken, gaze darting between your face and those beautiful perky nipples he wishes he could suck this very second. fuck, when you’d run your nails through his hair when he’d bite your perky buds and you’d moan so sweetly.
“you’re not even twisting them hard enough,” he tsks, watching you play with yourself…incorrectly. “how often do you touch yourself.”
“not as often as you touch me.”
sukuna chokes. you’re way too fast for him, and it catches him off guard every once in a awhile. he quickly recovers, “show me how wet you are.”
you listen, managing to face the passenger seat and have the phone propped on your bag.
“aw, you’re dripping,” he coos, biting his lip, as you run your fingers through the mess, spreading your pretty folds for him. “dirty girl,” he groans, hand sneaking down to his twitching hard cock—
“don’t touch yourself,” you cut possessively. “it’s my turn.”
“I didn’t even cum,” he tsks, but still eases back, thick legs spreading wider as he watches you shrug. “fine, lemme see how many fingers you can put in that little pussy.”
“one.”
“I said: let me see,” his voice drops an octave and that has you clenching and blushing all over. “lick your finger.”
you lean close to the camera, making a show of caressing your plump bottom lip, then easing your middle finger in. your suck the digit, eyes heavy as they look directly at sukuna. he silently watches, jaw loosening as he tries his best to keep his hand away, especially when you pull your middle finger out, flipping him off.
“cute,” he smirks, screenshotting. “put it in.” he tilts his head, humming as you sit back just a little. he eyes the way you open your legs, running your finger down your body, before circling your clit. your lips part and sukuna notices the way your back arches just a bit, finally pushing in, “theere we go.”
you hum along, jaw agape as you curl your finger in slowly pumping your finger. it’s not the same though. you hate having to do this shit yourself, it would kill the mood if sukuna wasn’t praising you on the other line.
“fuck, your pussy looks so pretty,” he groans, “so hot.”
you bite back a moan, lashes fluttering as you move your finger back to your clit. unaware of the disappointment until you hear a loud tsk.
“why’d you take your finger out?” sukuna barks.
you frown, still rubbing your clit, “It doesn’t feel as good.”
“bullshit,” he huffs, “put two fingers in.” your cheeks flush hot, collecting your arousal on your finger and teasing your hole again. “fuck your pussy like I told ya too.”
you wet your lips with attitude he can clearly read, especially when you add a sarcastic, “yes, sir.”
pre oozes from the brute’s twitching cock.
still, his eyes narrow with lust as he watches you dip your pretty little fingers in that tight hole. it’s always the initial stretch that has your lips parting. “keep moving your fingers. curl ‘em,” he husks, voice much lower and sexier, unbelievably turned on. “dirty girl fingerin’ herself in her car.”
you whine, back pressed against the door, as you angle your hips up, back arching as you continue fingering yourself, especially when you curl them and finally feel that spot. “got it?”
your glossy lips part, nodding, “y-yeah haah—ry-touch y’rself to me.“
fuck.
he doesn’t waste a second grabbing his cock and working himself up to the pace you’ve set. his own jaw clenches, watching your legs tremble as you pump your pretty fingers in and out, watching the way your fingers glisten every time you pull out, pretty nipples all hard and exposed, and lips glossy.
his thigh trembles, jaw tensing as he squeezes his base, holding himself back as you pull your fingers out to stimulate your neglected clit.
“good girl,” he husks under his breath, unaware of how much he enjoys watching you and getting jealous from nothing. you respond with a heavy sigh, tongue poking out as you feel yourself getting closer.
“gun- cum with me…ry-haah?”
he starts working his chubby cock, wishing to death he can feel the heat of your pussy against his swollen tip. “yeah, keep working those little fingers, make yourself cum.”
your whine pitches a little higher in the small car. thighs spreading wider as you stimulate your clit, oblivious to the low praises sukuna is muttering, feeling his heavy balls clench up. and just as your about to reach the edge, toes curling in your shoes, your phone tips over, hitting the ground just as sukuna hears you moan—
“anhh—“
“what the fuck!?”
you whine, back hitting the door as your legs close around your hand. lips parted as your chest rises with each heavy breath. you don’t even realize what happened until you hear your name being called, followed be another “where the fuck did you go?!”
your brows furrow, glancing at where your phone once was, then to its place on the floor of the passenger side. “oh.”
you move over the center, reaching down to lift your phone, and the moment your face comes to view, sukuna’s jaw tenses more.
“you came?”
your lips part sitting back in your seat. “yeah, I think i accidentally kicked my bag. did you cu—“
“no.” he cuts sharply. you suck your lips in to refrain from laughing. “cum again.”
your brows rise. “I can’t.”
sukuna barks out a humorless laugh. “I always make you cum more than once—“
“yeah, YOU—not ME. I don’t know how to overstimulate myself,” you reach for some tissues to clean yourself off camera. but sukuna groans loudly, cock throbbing as he works himself. “just imagine me cumming.”
his jaw locks, head tipping back so you can get a perfect shot of his sharp jaw. the silence stretches for a second before sukuna opens his mouth, refusing to look at his phone, missing the way your lips part, and face burns.
“talk into the phone then.”
your stomach flips with something you don’t want to name, especially when he tilts his head back clearly still working his monster of a cock that’s painfully red. “I’m close. speak.”
the command has you closing your thighs tighter, raising the phone to your lips, inhaling slowly, controlling the butterflies.
another beat passes before you finally begin.
“my fingers are so wet after cumming…” you dramatize a gentle sigh, “my pussy is so empty…I need your big fat cock filling my tight…little…pussy…ryo.”
“fuck,” sukuna’s jaw clenches harder, abs tightening as he aggressively twists his hand up his cock, thumb digging into his slit, much more aggressive than how you’d touch his cock, but he just needs to cum.
“can’t wait to see you, ryomen,” you exhale sweetly, adding a little pitched hum, “want you to use my pussy like it’s your pretty toy,” you blush at your own words, keeping it just a little over a whisper because if it was any louder than you might melt into the seat with embarrassment. but sukuna’s strained, low grunts, is reassuring. “fuck me until I can’t move, kiss me until I can’t breathe…you wanna kiss me right, pretty boy?” your cheeks sting viscously at the pet name that casually rolled off your tongue—
but then, a long deep groan comes from the back of the 6’4 footballer’s throat.
your entire body catches on fire, and a smile quietly tugs at the corners of your lips.
“you wanna kiss me that bad, baby?” you tease lightly, and even though sukuna refuses to reply, his strangled grunts, and sounds of his squelching cock being tugged, is enough reassurance to give you that final sentence that pushes him off the edge. “you also wanna stuff my pretty pussy right: wanna fill me with your thick…heavy cum, don’t you ryo?” you bite your lip the moment you hear the choke on the other end.
you quietly listen, pulling your phone to see that sukuna’s phone is forgotten in his lap. your finger playing at your lip, still smiling, waiting for sukuna to come down from his orgasm.
the man’s jaw is locked. head tipped back against the head rest. chest heaving. and face burning with a light shade of pink.
“you cum?” you break the silence, tone laced with something that twists in sukuna’s gut. the phone shifts, your face unable to stop your smile when you see his flushed face. your fingers still playing with your lips with faux innocence.
“yeah.” his clipped tone isn’t too harsh, but definitely shielding something else as he looks down at the mess. his jaw tenses seeing his cum covering his hand and splattered on the steering wheel. even if the phone is on his face, you can see the way his eyes are looking past it.
“you made a mess?”
he licks his teeth, eyes catching yours. “yeah.”
dang he’s cold. is he embarrassed? a warmth settles in your tummy at the thought. it’s hard to read him, but it’s even harder when it’s through the phone. either way, you shift around your car, putting your panties and pants back on and pulling your shirt down, fixing your bra. on the other end, sukuna is pulling his shirt off, and using it to clean the mess he made. jaw tensing every time your voice rings in his head again.
“who taught you how to talk like that?” he raises his hips pulling his pants back up, tucking his softening cock in.
your brow quirks lightly, “nobody lol,” you look back at your phone. “I was just going with the flow,” you smirk, head tilting just a bit that the man freezes, stomach flipping at the pretty sight on his phone and he instinctively just….*screenshot* “was I good?”
he makes a grumbling noise, then, “made me cum.”
“so, good?”
he rolls his eyes, “sure.” he ignores your smile as he finishes cleaning his mess. the buzzing of your phone interrupting. “you have to go?”
you hum, “yeah, gotta pick up shoko.” you text her that you’re on your way. sukuna looks back at his phone as he starts his car up, you do the same. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”
and the second sukuna gives an affirmative hum, you hang up.
as the days pass. neither one of you found your stress levels steady. instead, you were tested again and again, more rejection emails coming in for writing and producing programs you applied too for the summer. and as was sukuna with his brother’s attitude, especially with this weird phase that’s caught his attention with yuuji.
“I thought you were seeing megumi tomorrow?” sukuna glances up from his spot behind the bar, stopping mid-wipe down to see yuuji slinging his backpack on.
“we’re going to the beach today to see them set up before the festival tomorrow,” yuuji mutters, pushing his overgrown hair off his forehead in quiet annoyance.
sukuna’s brows pinch tight, “thought we were gonna do that?”
yuuji shrugs already walking to the back of the bar, large open windows lining the back that overlooks the beach. megumi and nobara wait outside, chatting. “s’fine,” yuuji stops by the door, “choso doesn’t talk to you, and you’re always busy—so whatever.”
sukuna tenses, grip curling around the dirty rag as his little brother turns and leaves. what the fuck?? since when has yuuji been cut and dry with him!?
just as sukuna stresses about his younger siblings, you’re wondering how much longer you have to hold yourself back until you tear your eyes out. another rejection email, that could’ve been the reason why your sudden stress skyrockets and then it immediately crashes after higuruma finally texts you after not hearing anything from him since you first got his number.
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: hey this is hiromi
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: sorry it’s been awhile but my uncle finally got back to me, he’s free thursday or friday around the afternoon to chat
[12:35PM] hiromi higuruma: lmk which day works so he can put it in his calendar before he gets booked
your lips part, standing outside a patient room staring at your phone. shit. your heart pounds rapidly against your ribs. you work until five everyday. your jaw tenses…just ask if he can do anything after—he can’t. unlike you, people can’t just move things around for you. your fingers quickly tap your screen.
[12:40PM] you: hii
[12:40PM] you: yea friday works for me, would this be a zoom call or phone call?
you see the bubbles appear, then disappear. you shift your weight, stomach churning.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit
your stomach drops.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: I forgot—you’re not based in the city?
[12:42PM] you: no, I’m back home for the summer
[12:43PM] you: would it be a problem doing it on zoom?
your back leans against the wall, stomach aching as you wait for his response. seriously, can one thing not work out in your favor?
[12:44PM] hiromi hirguruma: I’ll talk to him, but I think it’s better to wait until you’re back in the city and do it in person
[12:44PM] hiromi higuruma: only saying this bc he forgets everyone he talks too on zoom but he’ll be much more helpful if he meets you face to face, plus you’re a good conversationalist (js from my perspective) so you’d leave a good impression
a beat passes.
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: your call tho, i can still talk to him if u want
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: he's here all summer, so whenever you're back js Imk and I can set up a meeting
fuck!! your jaw aches, clenching down hard enough to break your teeth. hot tears sting behind your eyes, threatening to spill. you inhale sharply. grinding down harder on your teeth as you squeeze your phone.
what’s the fucking point in meeting with him now if he’ll just forget about you?
[12:47PM] you: oh okay, yeah I think it’s better in person then
[12:47PM] you: I’ll be in the city in august, is that okay?
your heart twists unbelievably tight, nails digging into your palm.
[12:48PM] hiromi higuruma: yeah for sure! and dw I’ll set a meeting up with u and him
almost like he can sense your disappointment through your hesitant texts. he sends another message.
[12:49PM] hiromi higuruma: how’s your summer?
wrong question…
[12:49PM] you: 😀 so good!
the bubbles appear then disappear, then:
[12:50PM] hiromi higuruma: that’s a sarcastic emoji right?
you can’t control the quiet chuckle that slips out.
[12:50PM] you: loll yeah
[12:50PM] you: its fine…working here…with my dad…yayy
higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: u losing ur mind?
[12:51PM] you: nope
[12:51PM] you: y would u say that (I wanna kms)
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: (rip) just a hunch, guess I was wrong
a smile threatens your face.
[12:52PM] hiromi higuruma: don’t stress tho, my uncle has some rlly good connects so he’ll help u out
you bite your cheek, pushing down the anxious twists that’s been eating at you for months. you’re still waiting on another possible opportunity for the second half of summer, but now you’re scared if that falls through, all you’ll have is nanami’s friend’s uncle as a connection..
[12:52PM] you: thanks🥹🙏
[12:53PM] hiromi higuruma: how long is ur program?
[12:53PM] you: till the last week of july so js two-ish more weeksss
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: u need a vacation after
[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT
[12:54PM] you: it is in the works🫡 my friends r planning it
[12:55PM] hiromi higuruma: where r u guys going?
you pause, lips parting.
[12:56PM] you: oh….i forgot
[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?
[12:56PM] you: no frrr shoko just told me to block off the dates but i actually forgot where we’re going bc they were planning it for awhile and i was too busy to pay attention
you cringe, trying to remember where shoko said satoru’s infamous mediterranean summer house is. either way higuruma responds with a cool message, unbothered by your lack of remembrance.
[12:57] hiromi higuruma: well it’s clear u need that vacation then
[12:57PM] you: 😪✊
you don’t realize you’ve basically been standing on your phone for awhile until a resident passes by, eyes flicking down.
“put the phone away before I tell your dad,” he mutters, and though the “joke” has been tossed around multiple times by the residents who know exactly what your relationship is with the chief of surgery, it doesn’t make it any funnier when you heard it the first time or the hundredth time —
your jaw tenses, glancing at your phone to see higuruma’s text.
[12:58PM] hiromi higuruma: make sure to stop in the city after tho and text me ahead of time
[12:58PM] you: i willlll
you shut your phone off, exhaling sharply as your head tips back. at this point…the only thing you’re looking forward to now is this trip. considering the second half of your summer is delayed after pushing this meeting back. and from the looks of it…you highly doubt you’re getting accepted into those writing programs.
“great,” you mutter to yourself.
your feet finally drag you away from the wall, and down the hall. unfortunately the pressure on your chest doesn’t leave, instead your mind quietly moves in circles as you continue the day’s work. unable to remove yourself completely from the stress of your future.
you smile at patients when they greet you. you laugh when shoko mutters something inappropriate under her breath. you still finish your notes, answer questions, make coffee runs, and remember to ask people how their weekends were. nothing is wrong enough for anyone to pull you aside and ask if you’re okay because you’re not falling apart. you’re just…tired. there’s a heaviness that sits beneath your ribs and makes everything feel harder than it should.
even when you check your phone during lunch. your conversation with higuruma sitting near the top of your messages. another month of waiting. another month of this feeling. you lock your phone just as someone calls your name, answering immediately.
it all keeps moving, dragging you along. the routine sucking you in. driving home as shoko talks from the passenger seat about the residents. about a movie she wants to watch. about a patient that yelled at her. about her not fully confident about her mcat studying methods. you nod and laugh, chiming in.
that’s how it goes in the mornings. driving at six am, music playing softly through the speakers. your eyes randomly burning behind your sunglasses, making you blink, unable to stop the tears from gathering for no apparent reason other than you can shake this heaviness on your chest. but it’s easy to wipe beneath your eyes during the red light. shoko doesn’t notice.
even at home, your sister asks how your day is, if you ate, how dad is, and you answer shortly without much thought. jennie watches you for a moment longer. her eyes lingering, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something before deciding against it. especially when you quietly play with yazzy now. playing with her barbie’s clothes in silence, clearly not fully present, but still able to pull a smile for your niece.
“fix her hair now!” yazzy shoves another barbie in your hand, the gum stuck to the ends making you scowl.
“why is there candy all over them?” you lightly scold, making yazzy cover her face with a doll, bashful and guilty.
“it was an accident!” she giggles, making you tsk lightly, giving her a faux disappointed look which earns you another loud giggle from her.
jennie quietly watches from the living room, eyes softening. she’s been gone for some time, but her concerns are present, so when shoko walks into the kitchen, her attention shifts momentarily.
“question,” jennie glances at the brunette. shoko hums, looking over her shoulder from the fridge. “how upset is she? because she’s working with our dad?”
shoko glances at you in the living room, the tv playing masking the conversation in the kitchen. “she hates it.”
jennie hums, looking down at her nails. “she said that?”
shoko nods, “she takes it on the chin though, but yeah…she hates it. she usually complains then feels guilty for complaining.”
that seems to twist something inside jennie, her jaw clenching. “yeah…she’s an idiot.” she mutters, hand rubbing her face. “there’s only so much you can tell her and she still won’t listen.” jennie stands straight. “it’s her life.”
shoko doesn’t respond. instead watching as jennie calls her daughter to head back to the hotel, and once they leave the house quiets, and you’re left alone with yourself.
you brush your teeth while staring into the bathroom mirror, foam gathering at the corners of your mouth as your reflection stares back. the faucet runs as you tilt your head. you look the same…same face, eyes, person — there’s no visible proof that anything is changing beneath your skin. but…you wonder if everyone else feels this way. is everyone secretly mourning versions of themselves they haven’t even become yet. are they walking around pretending everything is okay too? do they also hate where the direction of their lives are heading? can they even see what path they’ve taken—
you spit into the sink, washing your face.
once you crawl into bed, your room finally settles, feeling the darkness press close. and once again, your chest tightens. you think about the mcats. about the future. about all the people your age collecting internships and recommendations and certainty. you think about your father’s anxieties of your future. your mother’s concern. jennie’s harsh words—
you turn onto your side…then your back…then your other side. then…your eyes sting.
the tears build on their own, as they always do. your throat drying as you feel the warm liquid slide onto the pillow. you’re not sobbing. you don’t even know what you’re crying over. nothings happened. but eventually, sleep takes you.
“are you excited for college?” “what are you majoring in?” “you’re going to be a doctor, right?” “isn’t your dad a really good surgeon? my dad wants me to go into med school, but i don’t think i have the patience.”
the high school girls are packed into the locker room before gym, voices bouncing off metal lockers and tiled floors. someone’s trying to braid their ponytail in the mirror. another girl is complaining about wanting to get out of this gym period.
“wait, did they release decisions yet?”
“can your dad help me out when i’m looking for an internship?”
“yeah, you always work for your dad, so it’s not fair.”
“i’m jealous.”
your seventeen year old brain can only laugh, “it’s not like that,” you say automatically. but your friends only seem to double down. marking all your “wins” on one person who isn’t you.
“must be nice having your whole life figured out.”
the pressure in your chest tightens. you blink. you’ve heard these conversations a hundred times, so you should be used to them by now. but something tight twists in your chest. your fingers fumble with the combination lock on your gym locker. the metal slipping beneath your hands.
“you okay?”
“yeah,” your voice comes out too fast. you try again. however, it becomes harder to breathe, your vision blurring around the edges.
“shit!” your friend moves back just as you hit the lockers, falling to your knees as you grab your chest. is this a heart attack? people have heart attacks. can a high schooler have one? your dad would know—
“i can’t breathe.” the words tear out of your throat. your heart pounds harder, your fingers feel tingly and your head lightheaded.
“i can’t breathe.” you try again. nothing is coming out. air won’t come in. your hands shake violently, chest twisting.
“someone get the nurse!”
“she’s crying—”
you don’t feel the tears spill down your face before you even realize you’re crying. your chest hurts, your head spins, and the girls crowd around you.
—
the week leading up to the trip moved strangely, it was slow. the days blurred together as each individual hour stretched.
sukuna picked up more shifts at the bar, the smell of beer and musk clinging to his clothes long after he got home. when he wasn’t working, he was on the field by the beach, shirt sticking to his back beneath the summer sun as he played against whoever was willing to challenge him. usually it was gojo and geto. sometimes yuuji joined him, always laughing, but sukuna could feel the subtle shift. the kid lingered less…asked fewer questions, and as close as he is with gramps, even he wasn’t telling wasuke the full answer. and that was starting to make sukuna a little on edge.
then there was choso. it was inevitable after their argument. choso went out of his way to avoid his older brother and buried himself in rehearsals for the upcoming semifinals, spending more nights at ino’s, then with yuuji or gramps.
meanwhile, you’ve settled deeper into a routine. the hospital shifts, and early mornings that made you want to claw your eyes out. the drives with shoko that always eased you a bit. but then there was the wedding that jennie came for. and every aunt and family friend had something to ask. was there anyone special? were you talking to someone? how is it going into your senior year of undergrad? had you started studying for the mcat? have you taken the mcat yet?
your mother brushed them off, while your sister laughed because dating felt like the last thing on your mind. you smiled through it all, even as your stomach twisted tighter with every question you couldn’t answer honestly.
and then there was your father. he’d become quieter after the incident in the staircase, polite but distant in a way that unsettled you more. is he disappointed you aren’t taking the mcat yet? did one of the residents say something about your performance? you don’t ask. you just keep the questions with you, swirling in your mind whenever you see him.
none of the stress eases. not even when you quietly see sukuna in gojo’s ig stories. not even when yazzy tries to teach you and shoko a new dance move she’s learning. not even when your sister finally heads to the airport. none of it seemed to scratch that itch that kept your mind loud and irritating.
“did you get any sleep?” shoko pulls her shirt off, slipping into her scrubs. you stifle a yawn, shaking your head as you pull your scrub pants up. shoko yawns along with you, but exhales loudly afterwards. shaking her hands as she gives you smile. “last day though!”
your lips part, eyes widening, “oh snap.” and maybe that was what you needed because you’re suddenly smiling with shoko, laughing as you look at your phone. “last day!”
shoko hums, smiling wider as you both start dancing. and that definitely could be considered the longest, and best day of your week. and before you can blink, you’ve packed your suitcases and kissed your mom goodbye as she drops you and shoko off at the airport.
and with full unbridled honesty, you knew the best part of this trip was the excuse of being away from everything and everyone, and that’s what you’ve convinced yourself is what you need.
even after hours trapped in a middle seat, struggling to fall asleep, awkwardly folding yourself away from the men occupying both armrests beside you, you endure it. by the time the plane lands, your eyes burn with exhaustion and dark circles sit beneath them. the warm air greets you outside carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen.
you and shoko collect your luggage in a daze, exchanging tired glances until your attention catches on a sharply dressed man near the exit, holding a sign with both your names.
and that’s when your oasis begins.
the drive stretches along the coastline, blue water glittering beneath the afternoon sun. the mediterranean houses blur past the windows. shoko rests her cheek against her fist while you stare outside, feeling something inside your chest tighten again. what’re you even taking a vacation for?
you turn the corner into the neighborhood and your jaw drops. a villa sits at the end of the hillside like something straight out of a movie, and beyond the property is the ocean stretching endlessly, waves crashing.
“…you’re kidding,” you breathe.
shoko lets out a low whistle, stepping out of the car, “i forgot how disgustingly rich he is.”
the front doors slide open before either of you can fully process the sight, grabbing your suitcases.
“well, well, well!”
of course, the first thing you see is satoru gojo. he stands at the entrance wearing nothing but black swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his white hair, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming royalty into his kingdom. his skin is slightly tanned, abs glistening, and veins crawling up his forearms.
“took you guys long enough,” he announces obnoxiously. “i’ve been suffering all alone.”
“you’ve been posting pool pictures for three days with everyone,” shoko deadpans.
“but we’re still missing people,” gojo rebuts.
shoko laughs despite herself, stepping forward to wrap him in a quick hug. gojo squeezes her dramatically before turning his full attention toward you, who’s still dragging your suitcase across the polished floors, gaze darting between the towering ceilings, the sweeping staircase, and the ocean visible through the open living room.
“…what the hell,” you murmur. “this is insane.”
gojo’s grin somehow widens, “i know.”
you finally look at him properly, “thanks for letting me join,” you say, sincerity slipping into your voice before you can stop it. “seriously.”
for a brief moment, he looks genuinely touched, then— “well, it’s the least i can do,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “i’ll just need significantly more praise from you and sho for being such a generous, handsome host—”
“sure,” you cut him off easily, making him pout. but you finally step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a greeting hug anyway. “thank you, satoru.”
the complaint dies in his throat. “you’re welcome,” he says quickly but sounding almost suspicious of your sincerity before recovering instantly. “see? this is why you’re my favorite guest.”
“sure,” you sarcastically hum. “I’m just guessing you say that to everyone.”
“i do not.”
“you literally called utahime your favorite yesterday on facetime,” shoko points out.
“that was an obvious lie,” gojo shrugs.
“you definitely told geto he was your favorite,” shoko adds quickly.
gojo points, “he’s my favorite best friend.”
you glance between them, exhausted laughter bubbling out of you despite the lingering ache behind your eyes. sunlight pouring through the windows.
your suitcase stands forgotten by the doorway. somewhere outside, waves crash against the shore. and as gojo continues arguing with shoko about favoritism while leading you deeper into the villa. more people start coming into view.
“ahhh!! finally!!” a familiar voice booms, suddenly seeing a blur before you’re being engulfed in a hug by utahime. “it’s been hell with just these guys!”
gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why don’t you go ogle yuno, you perv—“
the harsh slap to his bare arm shuts him up, utahime glaring at him as she looks over her shoulder. luckily, yuno was still chatting loudly with nanami and some other guy you weren’t familiar with.
geto takes the attention as he steps in from the front door, sunglasses on and hair tied in bun. a smile immediately comes to his face when he spots more people. “it’s finally starting to feel like a vacation.”
you and shoko are taken upstairs. your suitcases bump softly against the polished tile floors as gojo launches into an overly detailed tour that neither of you retain, and something shoko’s already heard before.
but what you do manage to take in is how the villa becomes even more breathtaking the more you see of it. the arched doorways connecting the rooms, the patterned tiles lining the hallways, and carved wooden accents softening the stone walls. the villa held about eight bedrooms, and you and shoko barely process the number before finding yourselves in your room—or rather, your suite.
utahime’s presence is immediately obvious. her clothes are draped over the armchair near the balcony doors, makeup bag open across one of the dressers, bikinis and dresses laying on two of the beds, and several pairs of shoes already claimed near the closet.
“she really made herself at home,” shoko mutters.
you hum softly, too distracted by the room itself. two queen-sized beds sit beneath the exposed wooden beams, white linen curtains swaying every time the wind passes through the open balcony doors. the adjoining layout gives the three of you more than enough space, and the balcony utahime had apparently secured for the girls stretches across the back of the villa.
you wander to the open balcony before you can stop yourself, curious as to what the view is. warm air brushes against your dampened skin from the journey, but you’re immediately welcomed by the scent of salt and blooming flowers. below, you see the large pool, and then past the trees that circle the property, are terracotta rooftops of other villas, then the coastline in the distance. you can see the ocean glittering invitingly.
eventually, you peel yourself away making your way to the shower, washing away the hours of sticky travel air. the warm water loosens the knots in your shoulders, the steam clouding the mirror. by the time you emerge in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, toweling your hair dry, your body feels impossibly heavy.
the room is empty. you can hear shoko and the rest of the group outside from the open balcony. but all you can manage to do is walk across the tiled floor, barely managing to crawl onto the bed to turn of your phone alarm. your eyes struggling to stay open as you uncap your bottled water and swallow your scheduled pill. and once it goes down your throat, you toss the birth control pills back in your bag, and hit the warm sheets. you sink into the mattress with a relieved sigh.
the balcony doors remain open. the breeze filtering through the curtains. setting sun painting soft patterns across the tiled floor. and somewhere between one blink and the next, lulled by the sound of the ocean just beyond the villa walls, the exhaustion from everything finally catches up to you.
your eyes eventually drift shut.
unaware of what’s taking you so long, shoko and utahime go upstairs after an hour, freezing once they see you passed out.
“what the—“ utahime frowns. “we’re gonna go out to eat, wake up—“
utahime’s words die feeling shoko tug her out of the room.
“just let her sleep,” shoko cuts. “she’s been stressed for weeks, and i feel bad.” shoko’s voice is much softer, eyes down as utahime glances at her expression, then at the closed door.
“did something happen?” utahime’s brows are pinched.
shoko steps away from the door, shrugging, “I dunno,” a beat passes. “her sister just told me she doesn’t sleep well when she’s stressed, so just to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t drink too much if she’s still, like,” shoko tries to find the right words. “funky, I guess. so like…this is a good chance for her to catch up on her sleep and relax a bit.”
utahime nods, immediately. “for sure. I’ll keep an eye on her too then— and we can help her destress in these next two weeks!—“ utahime suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth after she basically shouted.
shoko chuckles, but hums along.
the two had the right idea leaving you to sleep. you knocked out for the rest of the day, and by the time you wake up, the sun is only a few minutes from rising. you were slightly confused, having slept for so long. groggy, you sit up and blink around the unfamiliar room. the pale morning light filters through the open balcony doors, the curtains shifting softly with the breeze. and once you see the two other people sleeping in the room, you realize where you are.
utahime is asleep beside you, laying on her side hugging her pillow. shoko is sprawled across the other queen bed like a starfish, blanket tangled around her legs.
and you simply sit there, still waking up, until your stomach starts growling. you rub your eye, reaching for your phone, happy someone had put it in the charger.
6:02 a.m.
“…damn” you mutter to yourself, you hadn’t eaten since the shitty airplane food. careful not to wake either of them, you slide out of bed and slip out of the room.
the villa is quiet in that way when everyone’s still asleep. it’s peaceful and calming. you notice a few abandoned glasses still sitting on the kitchen island from the night before. some half-finished bags of chips on the counter and couches. through the open doors, the warm morning air drifts inside carrying the scent of the ocean.
gojo’s pretty rich to not care that all the back doors are wide open, you think.
you rummage through the mediterranean style kitchen until you find bread, cold cuts, cheese, and enough ingredients to throw together a decent sandwich. then with a plate in hand, phone tucked beneath your arm, you wander outside. the backyard overlooking the hillside below, terracotta rooftops spilling toward the ocean in the distance. the pool reflects the pale pinks and oranges beginning to stretch across the sky. and you settle onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. your legs curl beneath you as you scroll mindlessly through your phone between bites of your sandwich.
it’s nice and quiet, and your shoulders sink further into the chair, slowly beginning to force yourself into a vacation mindset. and because of that, you don’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps crossing the brown tiled floors.
what you suddenly hear, mid-scroll, is a heavy unexpectedly loud thud of a duffle bag hitting the ground startling the living hell out of you. your heart hitting your ribs.
“…what the fuck?!”
you yelp entire body jerking, nearly tumbling off the chair as your heart launches straight into your throat. you’re still holding your sandwich, immediately whipping around to see the perpetrator.
and standing in the middle of the living room. black soccer shorts hanging low on his hips, a loose black t-shirt stretching across his shoulders. a cap resting in one hand, headphones around his neck. suitcase standing beside him, and a worn-in duffle bag abandoned at his feet….is sukuna.
he looks like he just got off a flight, slightly sweaty, slightly irritated, slightly exhausted, and unbelievably attractive. his scowl is already in place from being startled by the scream, but then he pauses once he sees you.
his eyes drag over your messy sleep-tangled hair, oversized shirt, bare legs tucked awkwardly beneath you on the lounge chair, and the bite of your sandwich still sitting in your mouth as you slowly chew. the edge of his expression shifts, not quite a smile, but something softer than his scowl.
“…the fuck are you screaming for?” he asks.
you stare at him, chewing the rest of your sandwich that flew out when your screamed. he stares back.
“…you look a mess,” you finally say through your bite.
his gaze flickers over you once more. “i think you’re looking in a mirror,” he replies flatly.
and just like that, sitting barefoot beside the pool at six in the morning with food in your mouth and your heart still hammering against your ribs, you can’t explain the way your shoulders ease a bit.
“asshole,” you reply with no bite. sukuna hums, sliding his backpack off and dropping his cap, headphones, and phone on top of his duffle before walking towards you. you swallow the bite you’d been chewing just for sukuna to kneel on the ground beside you, inspecting your sandwich.
“what is that?”
you glance at it, then down at him, your cheeks warming in seconds. he’s so close. “turkey, cheese, olives—“
“olives?” his large hand wraps around your hand, holding the sandwich.
you raise a brow, “yeah, it’s good—wha!” your eyes blow wide when he suddenly takes an obnoxiously large bite out of your sandwich. “what the hell!” you shove his shoulder back, making him loose his balance and catch himself on his annoyingly big arm, but it was too late. he’s chewing your sandwich, as you frown. “you didn’t even ask.”
“y’ didn’t look like you’d give me a bite if I asked,” sukuna speaks with his mouth full.
you scowl, “obviously, it’s mine. you can make your own, tch.”
sukuna continues chewing, still sitting back on his arm, eyes heavy as he stares up at you from your spot on the lounge chair.
you frown right back at him. even half-awake, with travel exhaustion weighing down your limbs, your expression pinches in annoyance. your brows pull together, nose wrinkling slightly, and your grip tightens around your sandwich.
his gaze lingers, “your eyes are bloodshot,” he finally says. you blink at him. “did y’ get any sleep?”
you take another pointed bite before answering, glaring at him over the edge of your sandwich, “yeah, actually. i slept the second i got here and missed dinner,” you narrow your eyes. “which means the first thing i’ve eaten since yesterday is the sandwich you freaking stole.”
sukuna scoffs, “dramatic.”
“you took half of it!” you screech lowly.
“that’s not half.”
“you have no idea what half means.”
his eyes drift downward before returning to your face. you’re sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair, turning slightly away from him now as you continue eating, subtly trying to finish it before he tries to take another bite. which he probably would do, just seeing the way he’s eyeing it.
sukuna feels a quiet tug beneath his ribs. the morning sun finally stretches over the horizon, painting gold across the pool water and catching against your soft skin. you’re still grumbling under your breath as you chew.
“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter.
he pushes himself up a little straighter beside your chair, his calloused palm rests on your bare thigh. “one more bite?” he asks.
you let out a humorless laugh, “yeah, as if.”
he lifts a brow, squeezing your thigh, “c’mon I’m starving. the plane’s breakfast was ass.”
“make your own then,” you say through another mouthful, keeping your free hand against his shoulder to keep him at arm’s length. he glances down at it, then back up at you.
annoyance flickering across his face. “seriously?”
you glance between his eyes, swallowing and taking another bite, “yeah.”
“one more bite.”
“there’s barely any left though,” you whine, keeping his shoulder back as he tries to get closer. but he clicks his tongue before wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist, pulling your palm away from his shoulder with little effort.
“selfish,” he mutters.
you nearly choke. “selfish?” you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. “you’re tryna steal my breakfast.”
“whatever,” he scowls, still holding your wrist. “I’m hungry.”
“ryomen.”
“what?”
“make your own sandwich.”
he stares at you. you stare back. then, without warning, he reaches for your wrist that holds your sandwich, making you gasp loudly, using your legs now to keep your bodies apart. “don’t—“
your free hand wiggles in his grip while he leans over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as your horrified complaints echo through the otherwise peaceful sunrise. your body struggles as he takes control, easily manuring himself onto the lounge chair, your knee keeping him away, as the other squirms to move between your body, but hanging loosely around his torso.
“ryo pleasee,” your whine rings so clearly, he can’t contain the flip in his stomach. he stops.
your chest is rising and falling from the struggle, anxiously glancing at him, brows pinched expecting him to pull your wrist to his mouth, but he remains still. staring down at you. then at your lips. then back at your eyes.
and suddenly, your legs are loosening, heart beating against your ribs, and letting sukuna fit himself comfortably between your legs. his hand holding your free hand, carefully brushes beneath your jaw before settling against the side of your neck. it’s warm and familiar. the morning breeze lifts strands of your hair across your face, and for a second, neither of you move.
waves crash in the distance. birds calling out in the pale sky. sunlight spilling over the terrace, painting soft lines across the sharp planes of sukuna’s face. his eyes don’t leave yours, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warming a deep spot in your tummy.
“you good?” you whisper eventually, voice smaller than you intend.
his gaze flickers down again. your mouth, then back to your eyes. then groggy, and voice much deeper then before, he mutters… “been a minute.”
your stomach flips. wetting your lips unconsciously, and sukuna’s eyes sharpen at the movement, barely blinking before you feel his firm lips against yours.
the breath leaves his lungs in a quiet rush. there’s a desperation hidden beneath the steadiness he tries so hard to maintain. but his hand tightens ever so slightly where it rests against you.
your lips move in sync like muscle memory. it’s familiar and instinctive. your fingers drift upward, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck before settling against his scalp. he releases a gentle exhale against your mouth at the contact, making your pulse stumble. sukuna leans closer without realizing it, his broad shoulders block out the morning sun as he deepens the kiss. your lips part on instinct, welcoming his tongue.
you can’t explain the urge that grows inside you the longer you kiss. the make out feels unbelievably calming, his grip tight around the lounge chair above your head, his knees digging into the seat, and his tongue swallowing your moans that have his pulse stuttering. your nails scratch at his scalp, threading through the pink locks digging gently.
“you taste like my sandwich,” you murmur with a clipped tone, tongue kissing his as he hums.
“yeah, fuck if I care,” he so easily brushes off the attitude to kiss you again. there were only two bites of your sandwich left, but you still held on to it, even as sukuna skillfully traced your bottom lip with his tongue. his hips lowering just to press his semi-bulge right against your clothed cunt, and that was enough to note the way your breath catches.
he can’t put into words how much his body needed you. just seeing you when he first walked in after his shit flight had his chest twisting, and now, kissing you…he feels every second relieving the weight on his shoulders.
your nails scratch at his scalp, tugging gently just to have him pull away, his eyes watching the way you catch your breath. lips all pretty and wet from him. eyes slightly dazed as you stare up at him, face lit softly with a healthy glow that has him leaning down again. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your bottom lip, caressing your tongue as it meets again.
“you didn’t send me any more pics,” he mutters.
your cheeks flush, nails caressing his nape. “you didn’t ask for more.”
“it should be unspoken.”
you snort, leaning closer when he pulls away, “it’s not now.”
sukuna grumbles, jaw ticking for a moment until your lips find each other again, your legs wrap around his torso, letting him put his weight on top of you, unbothered by the plane’s air that still clings to him. “give me a bite of the sandwich,” he mutters, trailing his lips down to your neck. and even if it’s been weeks, he still finds your sweet spot in seconds, nipping at it. your breath catches in your pretty throat, whining shyly when he licks the spot again with his warm tongue.
“no,” you say, managing to take another bite, doing your best to chew it as fast as you can, even with the bread being so thick, sukuna catches your wrist again. your eyes widen, watching him move your hand to his open mouth, taking the last bite.
you groan with a mouth full, eyes harsh as they glare up at him. the two of you chewing all the while his hand finds its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin.
“is it too hard for you to make a sandwich?” you speak with your mouth full, swallowing bites but still chewing.
“yeah, it is,” he replies coolly.
your brow twitches in irritation. but you still can’t help the way your gaze lingers. it’s been almost two months, and somehow he looks exactly the same. however, his salmon hair has grown out just enough to brush against the nape of his neck, it’s slightly damp from the warm weather. his shoulders seem broader than you remember, his t-shirt stretching across his frame. his veins stand out beneath his sun-bronzed forearms, hands rough and familiar where they rest against the lounge chair and your bare waist.
even sitting there, lazy and half-awake from travel, there is something unfairly imposing about him. it’s all familiar, but it could be the distance apart that has you pointing out the sharp tattoos again, the intimidating size difference, and the quiet confidence of him, painfully aware of what his body does to you.
your eyes drift over the dark tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his beefy thighs crowding the edge of the chair when he shifts, solid beneath his worn soccer shorts. he’s inconveniently attractive, stealing your sandwich like a jerk, familiar arrogance seeping with each glance your way, and his typical scowl…but still, your fingers almost ache with the remembered habit of tracing his inked skin beneath your fingertips, wanting to hear the low huff he’d give you in response.
you don’t miss him…but you do miss this pull of wanting someone who always feels just out of reach, but still appears right in front of you when you need him most.
“good-fuckin’-sandwich,” he finally swallows, licking his lips. he leans down with little effort, and high confidence, pressing his lips to yours again. body moving on top of you, rolling his hips down just to hear your little hiccup, your hand suddenly presses against his shoulder, pushing. he barely moves, but he does pause, pulling away enough to keep his face hovering close. “what? you mad I took the last bite?”
you roll your eyes, ready to respond when your stomach suddenly pierces the air with a loud grumble.
the sound has the frat boy freezing, glancing down. your lips part, cheeks flaring, glancing away as sukuna sits up just a little. “you seriously didn’t eat anything?”
“I told you I haven’t eaten,” you tsk, cheeks inflamed from the sound, desperately trying to ignore the caresses of sukuna’s hand under your shirt, thumb brushing your torso, suddenly pushing the material of t-shirt higher revealing more of your torso.
the air grows awkwardly uncomfortable, neither of you saying a word, and him not responding has you growing slightly more aware of the position he has you in. you don’t want to address it, you seriously, strongly, want to ignore how he’d just made himself comfortable with touching you after being apart for weeks. but that sudden thought as you pushing yourself up.
your hand climbs up his chest, curling your fist around his collar. and with little resistance, you tug him towards you.
“I’ll make another sandwich,” you mutter, your pretty chest rising with each breath. “you can keep kissing me…” his eyes flick between yours, they’re heavy with either exhaustion, lust, or both, but then you whisper the precious words he’s been dreaming of hearing this close, with your warmth wrapping around him, and your scent making his head spin… “please, ryo.”
his lips twitch up, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close from under your shirt. then your heart skips a beat. his head tucks down to your shoulder, burying his face there, pulling you to his chest.
your lips part, cheeks burning hot as he hugs you closer. his fingers dig possessively around your waist, bicep flexing around.
the summer breeze wraps around you. heart beating aggressively against your chest. fingers twitching trapped between your bodies, his hot breath fans against your neck. seagulls fly above you, the sky clear as day. but none of it can be fully processed, not when sukuna is hugging you like it’s been years since you’ve seen each other.
“r—“ you stop yourself when a warm kiss is pressed against your neck. then another. his hand brushes up and down your warm torso, making you always aware of his presence. slowly trailing kisses up your neck, subtly inhaling more of your flowery scent.
his cheeks sting, and he feels the heat crawl up his neck as his bulge grows harder. but he doesn’t stop peppering your burning skin with wet kisses. he pays a certain spot with more attention, sucking just a bit harder, smiling subtly when he hears your cute hiccup-like-moan.
“y’know,” he mutters against your skin, sucking another light hickey on your pretty neck, barely noticeable. he doesn’t wait for you to respond, your fingers twitching at his waist, holding his shirt. “I’ve been thinking’ bout how you got naked in your car,” your cheeks sting as the memory resurfaces quickly. “and how you fingered this pussy ‘cause I asked ya too,” you don’t have to look at him to hear the devilish smile he’s sporting. “then you fucking knocked over the phone when you came.”
your lips part in a quiet gasp, “it was an accident—“
he tsks, “still.” you blush. “I wanted to see it.” his hand brushes higher, unbothered by how he’s pushing your shirt up, revealing your lower back to the warm air. your skin is just so soft under his rough palm, and you fit perfectly against him. “you’ve been teasing me.”
your eyes go wide, “me?!—haah—“
the moan has your face bursting into flames, his teeth sink into your neck. your hand finding its way to his bicep, nails digging in, as he licks the mark he leaves. his lips skim up your neck, warm breath fanning gently until your lips are parting to inhale the same air.
“yeah, you,” his eyes flick over your lips. “with that call, and the one before that, and your photo.” he wets his bottom lip, a sinister smirk exposing his sharp canines. and in that moment you feel like he’d swallow you whole any second. “and now you’re lounged out here waiting for me.”
that’s when a a loud scoff leaves your lips. cheeks aflame. “as if. I didn’t even know when you were coming. it’s a coincidence.”
a disbelieving hum resounds from his throat. “so you were camped out here in these little shorts,” he tugs the hem of your shorts. “and this shirt wearing nothing underneath, for who then?”
you raise a brow, amused by him, forearm casually resting on his shoulder as you look back at him. “would you believe me if I said it was for me?”
he clicks his tongue.
you hum, glancing away for entertainment, free hand coming up to your chin. sukuna sits still, surprisingly patient, almost like you both have all the time in the world. it was unnervingly attractive. but you still decide to tease him, amused by the thought so you say it.
“then it was for satoru.”
and the moment that name leaves your lips, the reaction is far from what you’ were expecting. sukuna’s once calm features shift into a sudden disgusted scowl. the expression catches you so off guard that you suddenly burst out laughing, right in his face.
“fuck outta my face,” he spits.
you laugh even louder, hand coming up to your mouth trying to control yourself. “what? you don’t believe me?”
your push has sukuna rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. “playin’ in my face.”
“pleaseeee,” you cackle, adjusting yourself higher, waving a hand in front of him. “I was—I meant to say it’s for suguru.”
you visibly see the twitch in his eye, and that has you laughing louder hitting his chest as your head falls back. “I’m DEAD, you’re actually killing me!!” your laughing is so loud it irks him how much you’re getting a kick out of his reaction. he also ignores how cute your stupid laugh is after not hearing for so long. “cmon, it’s no biggy, wearing this skimpy little thing for my suguru.”
“your suguru,” sukuna spits back, disgust laced in every word.
you nod, bitting your top lip as you hold in your laughter, even if your eyes are laughing. “it makes sense, since me and him are sharing a room.”
his body suddenly goes dead still. “you’re fucking with me.”
his tone has you laughing louder, unaware how much that bothered the footballer. “you don’t believe me?”
sukuna rolls his eyes, loosening his jaw as he exhales through his nose. “daamn, relax ryo.” you coo, hand coming up to squish his cheeks. “tough month? you can’t take my little jokes anymore?” your faux pout has him scowling immediately, but his cock jumps at the expression.
“ragebait,” he mutters. you softly snort, smile lighting up your face, then your pretty head tilts for him. so fucking pretty.
“aww, that wasn’t my intention,” you coo.
the lie has sukuna scoffing, eyes flickering between your insincere doe eyes, and it tickles an itch deep in his core. “I was just playing with you,” you playfully squish his cheeks again, watching the way his lips purse together. he’s so cute.
his hands rest on your waist, staring straight into your eyes, and he unknowingly allows you to mess with him. enough that a string tugs at his chest.
“you mad?” your lips part slightly when he doesn’t respond, your eyes still holding a playful spark in them.
“yeah.”
it was a detectable lie that has your pretty lips pulling into a smile you can’t control. “yeah?” you’ve seriously grown confident in your time apart, and it’s unbelievably attractive. “but I thought it was pretty funny. you can’t be mad about that, can you?”
your thumb brushes the morning shadow on his chin, the stubble beyond attractive. but sukuna is too busy clicking his tongue at you to notice the way you’re checking him out whilst pushing his buttons. “I can. do you see me laughing with ya?”
you purse your lips, smile spilling out wide. you shake your head, then you push yourself up. your pretty legs are loose around his hips, your fingers gently curling under his chin, wetting your bottom lip with a soft hum.
“I don’t,” your voice is low, sweet. his jaw tenses slightly, waiting for you to act, and surprisingly you catch it. and you start smiling again. “you’re so patient, ryo.”
his breath catches, covering it with a loud, offended scoff. “maybe finish your sentences,” he snaps. “y’ keep fucking trailing off.”
you smile, leaning close to his face. breath warm against his lips. “I just answered you though,” you trail off again, purposefully. your lips hover over his, slowing your breath, lashes fluttering like a subtle seductress. and it works. he leans closer, wanting your warmth to encompass him even more. his cheeks a stained dark pink as you exhale softly. “you just like listening to me…don’t you?”
your smile is unbelievably beautiful, but his remains still, glaring at you through his dark lashes. his thick brow quirks. “i don’t remember ya being this cocky,” he mutters and there isn’t much heat behind the insult.
your smile only widens, “I didn’t realize how easy you make it,” you coo softly.
his brow twitches, “don’t flatter yourself.”
“mm.” your fingers drift along the collar of his shirt, eyeing the tattoos that peak, then meeting his crimson gaze again. “too late.”
the morning breeze curls around the two of you, the scent of salt and sunscreen drifts through the quiet villa. the pool glitters behind him and still, neither of you moves away.
his eyes drag over your expression, lingering on the curve of your smile and the amusement brightening your face. he’d spent weeks listening to your voice through a phone speaker, catching glimpses of you through photos and stories, and now that you’re here, he finds himself unable to take his hands off you.
you tilt your head. “what?” you ask, trying and failing to sound innocent.
“you’re annoying,” he cuts.
“but…” you lean closer, your lips brushing his, and he barely reacts. “you haven’t asked me to stop.”
something shifts behind his eyes. the confidence in your expression flickers for half a second, replaced by something softer, and something he sure as shit brushes away. but the teasing quiets just enough for his stomach to twist.
“tell me ryo,” you murmur quietly, voice just above a whisper. the sweetness drips into his ear like honey. his cock straining in his shorts, unable to control his body’s reaction to you. “you like being teased…right?”
his mouth twitches. “you fucking with me again?”
you slowly shake your head, staring into his eyes, twirling his hair around your finger. “you can tell me,” you tug at his hair lightly. “I don’t judge.”
he’s leaking for sure. the clear outline of his cock would be embarrassing if he wasn’t packing. and even with how obviously turned on he is, how flushed his ears are, and how blown his pupils have gotten. he still manages to hold his composure, and bite back a shit eating grin.
“cute,” his arm tightens around your waist, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. his bulge is pressing directly onto your shorts, and his sharp canines almost make him look animalistic. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”
you hum, dragging the sound in faux innocence, lashes batting up at him, almost making him release a pathetic noise. “what am doing? I thought I was creating a safe space for you,” you coo.
“don’t play dumb.”
you shrug, face still close, and fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, the other squeezing his bicep. “I’m not.“
and once your eyes glance over the scowl that flickers across his face, your unable to control your reaction. you laugh softly against the small space separating you, and the sound seems to snap whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to.
you make a startled sound against him, one that quickly melts into something softer when he kisses you harder than before. his brows knit together, expression caught between irritation and want.
he completely steals the breath from your lungs. all the teasing from the last several minutes dissolves into something far less careful. the laughter lingering on your lips disappears beneath the press of his mouth, your fingers tangling tighter in the ends of his hair as he forces his tongue to meet yours. and the moment your tongues make contact, a guttural groan comes from the back of his throat. the sound is muffled against your lips, but the way you feel the warmth pool between your legs is immediate.
he doesn’t care anymore. his mind has wrapped itself around you, the familiarity of your lips, the warmth of your body, and the soft edges of your aura, it all has him melting. and it doesn’t take long for him to press his fully erect cock right against your shorts. rutting.
a squeak escapes your pretty lips at the first roll of his hips. jaw falling agape at the stimulation. the sunrise paints everything gold around you, warm light spilling across the pool deck while the rest of the villa remains asleep. and as exhausted as sukuna is from his flight, he physically can’t stop his body from rutting into you like a dog in heat.
his tongue is thick and hot, slowly stroking your lips passionately until you’re meeting the wet muscle with your own. your whine is muffled, arms latched around his shoulders, as he hooks your leg over his arm, humping your clothed pussy.
“we should fuck,” he mutters between kisses, grinding even harder, stimulating his cock. “yeah?” his hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, kissing your bottom lip with haste. “everyone’s sleeping, I got a condom in my bag—“
a choked groan slips out of his throat when you tug his hair, his pupils twice their normal size. cheeks flushed a dark red, and his body unable to pull away from you. he doesn’t want to address how quickly you turn him on, or how much he craved your touch after being away from you for so long—no, none of it crosses the front of his mind when you’re under him, hands caressing his nape, lips glossy and swollen from kissing, and dark lashes batting up at him like you know everything. “you haven’t showered.”
he kisses down your neck, grinding slower, reminding you what he’s asking for. “I don’t smell that bad.” he unintentionally presses his face against your nape, inhaling. “fuck, but you smell so fucking good.”
your lips part momentarily, cheeks flushed. you feel him kiss the warm skin of your neck. he trails back to your lips, hand wrapping gently around your neck, tilting your chin up with a thumb, kissing you deeper, if possible.
it was a scene. and it was one that gojo was waking up to. his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, white hair sticking in every direction, as he wanders down the staircase in nothing but a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. one hand disappears beneath the hem of his shirt as he scratches absentmindedly at his chest, the other reaching automatically for the carton of orange juice waiting in the fridge.
the villa is quiet. the open screens let the morning breeze drift through the house, sunlight spilling across the floors and stretched toward the living room, where a duffle bag and suitcase had been abandoned carelessly near the entrance. gojo blinks, his gaze moves from the luggage to the open patio doors, then stops. “…oh.”
outside, beneath the morning blue sky, was a certain someone hidden behind one of the lounge chairs overlooking the pool, and sukuna was right on top of her. the two of you were obviously making out, his head bent toward yours, your hand buried somewhere near the ends of his pink hair, his broad shoulders blocking part of your frame from view, and his lower body was rocking against yours.
gojo stared, lifting the orange juice to his mouth, then lowering it. “…they’re still not dating,” he murmured to absolutely no one.
“what are you doing?” nanami’s voice breaks through the silence making gojo glance over briefly. fresh out of bed himself, nanami is halfway through pulling a shirt over his head, pajama pants slung low against his waist, catching a brief sight of his dark blonde happy trail, as he walks into the kitchen, following gojo’s line of sight. his steps slowed. “oh.”
gojo points toward the patio, “they’re not dating.”
nanami yawns, moving toward the fridge anyway.“i went to bed early,” he said. “did he get here last night?”
gojo shakes his head immediately, finally twisting the cap off the orange juice. “nope. he literally just got here. i got the notification from the security.” nanami pauses, glancing over his shoulder again, then toward the abandoned bags in the living room, then back outside.
“…they’re that comfortable with each other?” the question slips out before he can stop it.
gojo snorts, “or they’re just ridiculously attracted to each other,” he shrugs. “but they’re definitely not dating.”
nanami raises a brow thoughtfully. “did they not have sex with anyone else if they’re jumping each other like that now?” gojo tilts his head in genuine surprise. nanami’s eyes linger on the scene outside.
maybe it’s instinct or it the unmistakable feeling of being watched, because outside, sukuna’s gaze lifts. his sharp crimson eyes slide toward the villa without warning and land directly on the blue and honey-colored pair staring back at him from the kitchen. the silence stretches, until gojo slowly raises his carton of orange juice in greeting.
your brows quirk seeing sukuna’s suddenly pulling away and scowling over your shoulder. that’s when you decide to stick your head out, brows quirking at gojo and nanami both standing in the kitchen.
“didn’t mean to interrupt the streamy sesh,” gojo calls out casually, nanami glancing at him in annoyance. “you guys can continue.”
you snort, pressing a hand to sukuna’s chest, just for the hot head to sit back on his knees, glaring at his friends. “damn, but you kinda made me loose my appetite though,” you say stepping away from sukuna to stand up. his eyes follow you, jaw tightening as gojo cackles loudly from the house.
“whaaaat—but don’t you guys miss each other? I didn’t wanna ruin the reunion,” gojo lightly teases, unknowingly hitting a nerve as sukuna tsks, and you surprisingly raise a brow.
“you’re not ruining anything,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at sukuna who’s still sat on the lounge chair, hand over his bulge. “we were jus’ talking.”
gojo smirks, nodding sarcastically, “yeah, for sure. must’ve been the wind then.”
you sarcastically cringe, shrugging. “ah, must’ve been.” you don’t break a sweat as you walk further into the house passing by the boys as you make your way up the stairs, leaving them behind. and even with your heart beating erratically, and your face sweltering. you keep your composure until you’re out of sight.
as for sukuna…he remains seated, quiet, and unbelievably pissed off. nanami finds it slightly amusing, while gojo is snorting loudly. “that’s how much you wanna get in her pants—I just got the notification that you walked in and you’re already tryna fuck her—jeez.”
sukuna scowls, standing up. the irritation dripping from his being as he slips a hand into his shorts, tucking his erection up. “since when do you fucking cockblock me?” he snaps, walking into the house.
gojo’s hands fly up in defense, “you’re the ones that stopped. I was just drinkin’ my juice here.”
“he was watching,” nanami casually corrects, earning another shrug from gojo. sukuna clicks his tongue, and it prompts nanami to follow up with the only question swimming in his head. “are you guys dat—“
“no.”
the room falls silent.
sukuna picks up his duffle bag. his sharp eyes find the two men, and he utters his next words, with little thought, only wanting to end any further discussion on a subject he has little care to address with outsiders.
“we fuck. and I’m gonna fuck her again. and that’s my deal with her.”
his harsh tone is followed by a low whistle from the white haired man. and though sukuna walks away from them fully believing he put an end to whatever assumptions they insisted on making. because whatever existed between you and him has always been simple, physical, and convenient. except…
later that week, the simplicity shakes just a bit. when your arms lock around his torso, fingers twisting desperately into the back of his soaked shirt, refusing to let go. face pressed against his chest, eyes rimmed raw, breaths breaking apart into uneven pieces as your entire body trembles against him. the rain coming down harshly, drenching the quiet street and soaking through your skin and fabric.
and sukuna can only stare over your head into the empty street. his arms tighten around you without fully realizing what he’s doing it. his veins straining beneath his skin because you won’t stop shaking. your nails digging into him.
“don’t…” your voice is strained, the softness still shining through even in the state you’re in. “don’t push me away yet.”
his jaw clenches.
“please.”
a/n: watch you guys burn me alive after this. no joke, this shit was gonna be longer but I reached the line count limit on tumblr so I had to cut the scene short and add a sneak peak into next chapter.
chp 9 will have more yummy smut and angst. and I don’t wanna spoil, but *wink *wink, reader has been taking those birth control pills for a little over a month now 😛
Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, slowburn, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit, jealous!zuko, we’re already married in his head, found family trope(ish), zuko has daddy issues] wc: 7.5k
m.list | chapter four | chapter five | next chapter
You’ve been taking advantage of the Fire Lord. He remembered saying you could take one or two days off— it’s been four. He never thought he would see that from you.
Not that he cares.
By all means, use him. Watching you abandon your duties these last few days has been quite the treat.
Ryuko has asked about you. Not directly, but to other people. Zuko’s made sure to mention you around him, though. It was his own little way to point out your absence, while you’re out doing god knows what.
Zuko didn’t want to know at first.
Unfortunately, there’s only so much patience left once he’s done playing his role as the Fire Lord. He just couldn’t help himself.
To what, exactly? Well…
“Zuzu?”
He stills, immediately recognizing that nasally little voice. Not to mention there’s only one person that would call him by that name.
Azula. She practically goes on to nag him, after randomly catching him at some food stall at the night market.
“You dethroned me just so you could prance around town in a cape?”
Funny enough, she would’ve matched with her brother if she’d just worn her hood. It might be a little risky, but most people wouldn’t know what she looked like, anyway. She could get away with showing her face for the most part.
Despite the initial whiplash from running into his sister, who’s been missing for well over a decade and is still at the top of the nation’s Most Wanted list, he’s quick to defend himself.
“I’m not prancing around town,” he grimaces. “And what do you mean dethroned? You were never even crowned.”
“Yeah, because you interrupted my coronation!”
Their sudden quarrel catches the eyes of a few people walking by, along with the old vendor that was just trying to hand him his chicken skewers. Thankfully, everyone’s quick to mind their own in the Silk District. Fights were common enough— just keep walking and you’re sure to be safe once the brawl starts.
It’s as if they were children again, arguing over absolute nonsense. At first it was a dispute over her brief stint as the nation’s first Fire Lady. Now, they’re just throwing accusations at each other.
“Please don’t tell me you’re working in a brothel now,” Zuko grumbles, fully prepared to give her some money so she wouldn't have to be indebted to one.
“I am not!” she scoffs. “And what are you doing here?! Last I heard, you have nearly twice the amount of concubines Father had kept.”
His eyes widened. Now was not the time to ask what he was up to. It’s not like he can tell her he’s been trying to scope you out all night, so he’s left scrambling.
“Most of them were gifted to me,” he barely explains, more so stuck on where she heard that from. Azula made it sound like he hoarded them.
She continued to press him. “You never answered why you’re walking around town with a hooded cape.”
“I wanted some normalcy,” he throws his arms out, hoping that’d be enough for her.
Azula raises a brow. “So you go to the sex capital of the world?”
“I’m not here for the fucking brothels,” he suddenly snaps at her, but quickly collects himself as it only made him look guilty. “Sorry. I’m here for work. We’re in the middle of opening a rehabilitation facility.”
“Right,” she blandly says, crossing her arms and taking a moment to stare him down, lost on what else to say. At least she believes him. She would’ve continued to interrogate him, had she not.
Zuko just looks at her as well. Not meaning to participate in a staring competition as he tried to figure out what about her had changed. Something felt off.
Then her brows pinch together.
It’s the eyes.
She thinks she’s glaring at him right now, but they’ve softened. And there’s actually a trace of light behind her golden eyes, rather than the dull orbs demonically possessed individuals often have. The only feature she shared with their father was that sadistic look he’d get on his face whenever someone angered him, yet there was no trace of Ozai in all her visible annoyance.
All he sees is their mother.
“So, how’s father?” she asks casually, figuring she might as well ask about the old bastard since he’s here.
Zuko lets out a disappointed sigh, not bothering to hide how peeved the thought of their father made him. “He spends his days drawing flowers and demanding he be given dignity.”
She sighs as well, because he just sounds pathetic at this point. “You don’t give into his demands… right?”
“Oh, no, never,” he says with a reassuring tone. “He’s tolerable for the most part, but there’s periods where he needs more… help.”
His fathers fall from grace needs to be studied at this point. He will scream, cry, break his little board games that he hardly deserved to begin with, and demand new ones. Ozai drew a portrait of him once when he was 21. He was without a scar. It was touching, sort of. Really fucking odd, though. He didn’t exactly listen to his father when he explained the sentiment behind it, but he understood why there would be one.
Zuko hung around until the servant brought his father dinner that night. Guess what happened when he didn’t allow the servant to give his father a slice of cake with his dinner?
His father took the portrait down and drew a scar on both his eyes.
The concept of self-regulation was completely foreign to his father—antagonizing him may as well have been a form of psychological warfare. Which is why Zuko started eating that same slice of cake as he watched his father have the meltdown of a century.
“Yeah, Father is… Father.”
There was no need to elaborate, Azula completely understood what he meant by that. “Do they still whip prisoners?”
Zuko pauses and looks at her as if she’s gone mad. “No….. that’s illegal.”
She shrugs. “Some people only respond to physical discipline.”
He hums tentatively, “Father usually behaves after a day or two of being put on a liquid diet.”
She finds herself coughing out a laugh, surprised he’d even do such a thing. She remembers the day Zuko visited her and Ozai in prison. He could’ve easily tortured the information he needed out of them, but instead he walked in with a tray of tea as he spoke of wanting to treat them with dignity— he used that word less than a handful of times, but his father continues to cling to it for his life.
She couldn’t wrap her head around how someone could be so gullible, it disgusted her.
Even when he cut her a deal, allowing her to walk freely as they looked for their mother, he disgusted her. He was weak for offering her tea, weak for allowing her to accompany him unrestrained, weak for letting her attack him during the trip. She was his tormentor and still, he forgave her, over and over again.
She wonders if she’ll ever grow the strength to thank him for being the only one to show her forgiveness.
“And mother?” she asks, struggling to hide her cautious tone.
“She’s good. Still in Hira’a.” Zuko pauses, eyes filled with both relief and a little sorrow. He has a good bond with his mother and had always believed Azula deserved the same. He’d love nothing more than to reunite the two. “She never fails to bring you up whenever I see her.”
How sweet.
And mildly triggering, given all the years she spent missing a woman who had forgotten her. She quickly catches herself from slipping into her thoughts any further—there was no need to punish herself like that, she had already suffered enough.
It’s been over ten years since they’ve seen each other, and she still wasn’t ready. But, even in all her resentment, she still found herself wishing she could tell that she often thought of her, too.
Rather than giving him a definitive no, she just rolled her eyes.
Perhaps she has grown softer throughout the years. The last time she randomly appeared, she promised to make it her life’s mission to drive her brother to the brink of insanity in hopes to make him more like their father. Granted, she was fucking losing it at that time, having unresolved trauma and what not. Being locked in a cage like a fucking animal only made her worse. The final blow was when she was released to help find their mother, only to find out she chose to have the memory of them completely wiped.
Oh, that fucked her up.
Azula refused to admit it at the time, but she’s closer to admitting it now after years of solitude. A changed woman, she was. Zuko should consider himself lucky to get away with just an argument today. Had their reunion been a few years sooner, that argument would’ve ended with the entire market burning down in flames.
But, she was his little sister at the end of the day, and there’s no doubt she'd still be annoyed at the sight of him again the next time they inevitably run into each other.
Azula closes her eyes and sighs, then lightly nods her head, “Well, I’m off. It was nice seeing you, Zuzu.”
It didn’t sound like it. “Wh— hold on, where are you going?”
“A temple,” she vaguely says, not stupid enough to tell him exactly which one. Zuko probably would’ve let her be, but one couldn’t be too safe. “Have fun in the brothels!”
“I already told you I wasn’t here for the brothels— Azula, wait,” he calls after her, more confused than anything. “Do you need money or anything?”
His sister stops to consider it. She may have some at the moment, but prior to passing by, she was pretty low on silver. The only reason why she came here was to pick-pocket a few people.
And by pick pocket, she means breaking into the homes of local lords and raiding their safes. Easy money. Can’t feel too bad about it either since they’re notoriously known for their corruption at a local level. She may be a criminal, but she was ethical.
“How much?” she asks, reluctant to jump right into accepting it.
He casually reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pouch of gold coins, lazily sifting through them before realizing he never had a number in his head.
“Wow look at the Fire Lord giving a fugitive money,” she murmurs, earning herself a disappointed look from Zuko. “What?”
“Don’t say that.”
She shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
“Just take the fucking pouch,” he sighs, shoving the bag into her hands. “And please make it last.”
“Aww, are you saying that because you don’t know when you’ll see me next? Are you gonna be sad after this?” she continues to poke at him.
Suddenly, he feels a headache starting to blossom against the right side of his skull. “I don’t think I will,” he blandly says, rubbing his temple as she begins to laugh at him. “Will you do me a favor though since I gave you money?”
The question wipes the smile off her face, she hates being indebted to others.
“The next time I see you, I want it to be with Mother.” She opens her mouth, probably to say something along the lines of not telling her what to do, but he doesn’t give her a chance to say it. “It can be five years from now or even twenty. Just go to mom whenever you’re ready and I’ll meet you two there.”
She blinks. “Wait, does that mean I’m not an enemy of the state anymore?”
“Oh no, you still are,” he lets out a laugh. “But if you have an emergency and really, really need help, send a letter to Mom.”
She doesn’t say much at first. She was actually moved for once and it showed.
“Thank you,” she says with a barely contained smile.
It was natural for him to give her a weird look, it was the first time she’s ever expressed genuine appreciation. Not quite grasping how much weight those two words held. Maybe she’ll tell him one day, but for now, it wasn’t her problem.
“You can thank me by going to mom’s one day.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Azula doesn't sound very serious when she turns to leave, but she really was and already had a date in mind. It would be sooner than five years, but enough to work on those flashbacks.
He watches her run off, scoffing out a laugh once she disappears into the crowd of people, leaving as fast as she appeared.
Alone, again.
Well, he’s not alone. He has his uncle.
It’s time like this when he really remembers just how different his life has turned out. It wasn’t bad. Bittersweet, yes. But not bad. After years of being subjected to his Father’s cruelty and abuse, everyone’s moved on with their own lives
Even Azula.
Then it dawned on him that he had just committed treason. He wasn’t supposed to let a criminal like her continue to roam the earth without consequence. Yet he did. He gave her money, too— way too much of it. Had one of the imperial guards caught her, she would’ve been behind bars, just like their father.
But at that moment, he wasn’t the one who held the throne. He was simply someone’s brother. Their father may have played favorites, but he recognized long ago that he has scarred them both and that she, too, deserved freedom.
—
Running around with Cyra has made you realize just how much you missed the crude humor and self-indulgent ways of the Silk District.
Those who served the imperial court were the complete opposite. So proper and uptight. The amount of self-importance some had without contributing anything remarkable to the world was exhausting. You don’t think you would’ve lasted as long as you have had it not been for who you served.
Although, he’s been a little too lenient with you during this trip. He hasn’t told you to come back to work once, which is why you’ve consistently gotten back to the hotel as late as 2:00 AM. You very well may be pushing your luck, but he never set a curfew for you and neither has Chamberlain.
You were a bit nervous to see the Lord’s reaction after your first night. Being met with nothing but indifference only made it worse, making you question what his true intentions were. The worries lingered in the back of your mind until a couple nights later.
There was nothing more anti-climatic than catching a glimpse of a cloaked man from the corner of your eye.
Wearing a cloak here wasn’t an unusual sight, citizens covered themselves for all different reasons. Some, such as yourself in the past, did it purely for the look. Some did it to conceal their identities. It was the latter for the Fire Lord, who was apparently spying on you.
Zuko rules over an entire nation, yet has the ability to shrink his presence down to that of a disregarded and overlooked vagrant. He's quiet when he wants to be, taking up such little space he may as well vanish into thin air. It’s quite the talent, allowing him to slip away into normalcy for an hour or two whenever the grandiosity of the palace became too much.
Unfortunately for Zuko, you can spot him in a crowd. Easily.
Maybe it’s from all the time you’ve spent with him—hours spent locked away in an office, days spent traveling, weeks spent visiting in foreign lands.
Or maybe it’s something more. The possibility was not a thought you liked to entertain. It’s not because the thought itself wasn’t ridiculous—it absolutely was ridiculous. It’s as if the God’s decided to make a mockery out of your life when they had decided on your reality.
You can just imagine them all brainstorming your fate in some heavenly council room.
“Let’s give her someone she can’t have,” one says. “Perhaps Azulon’s second grandson?”
“I love it. Put her in the least liked clan,” says another. “The boy will bring an era of peace and let their union create unrest within the other clans.”
“Brilliant. Make their connection devastatingly magnetic, as well,” the God of Misfortune excitedly says, followed by the room erupting in evil laughter.
And devastating it was.
Zuko was well over a hundred feet away, just another body swallowed by a sea of people. Many walked past him, some even stared in his direction as their minds drifted off, but no one truly noticed. He was insignificant. Invisible.
The gods continued to laugh, because you had noticed him, anyway.
It was beyond just the odd, occasional pull. It was as if you were connected by a stubborn invisible string that enjoyed tugging at you, constantly reminding you of the person at the end of it.
You disappeared shortly after noticing him, but quickly decided to have a little fun. You had brought Cyra along—weaving in and out of shops and alleyways.
“You’re going to drive him mad,” she had said.
“He already is,” you giggled at the thought of him losing sight of you once more.
“I’m sure he just wanted to see if you were okay. You look like you’ve forgotten all about your duties! He’s doing no less than a hired guard would. It’s quite flattering, actually.”
“He is a lunatic that’s doing it for free.”
Cyra was more perceptive than that, but kept her own conclusions to herself, knowing the troubles it’d bring. It was a matter you chose to be blind to, and she believed you were better for it.
That was last night.
Tonight, a local lord was throwing a banquet in honor of the Fire Lord’s visit.
Back being the most important man in the room, he went. He’d be lying if he said he’d been looking forward to attending, but at least this one wasn’t as formal compared to most of the banquet’s he’s attended in the past.
Zuko tried to enjoy it. He drank with those that wanted to share a drink with him, laughed as he listened to the stories the locals shared and said just enough to keep a conversation alive. It wasn’t enough, though— these are people that have thrived in a culture that rewards ambition and resilience. They were more interested in getting to know him as a person, and while appreciates being seen as one, he will not be contributing to a conversation about personal hardships.
He hates conversations that lead to praise or pity. He’s never wanted to leave a place more. But that would be seen as rude, so he’s stuck having to redirect conversations, all while trying not to pay too much attention to you.
To say you’re gone the entire day is not an exaggeration—neither him nor Chamberlain have gotten the chance to catch up with you. But he had a feeling you’d pop up. When you did, he realized he underestimated just how well connected you were.
He’s never seen you this comfortable at an event before. Nor has he ever seen you in such a tight dress. He is thankful for the robe you paired with it for the evening. It did a wonderful job at keeping the inappropriate thoughts he would’ve had at bay.
Lucky for him, Saiyo chose not to come tonight, crossing off whatever worries he would’ve had if he’d gotten caught for looking at you too much.
“I couldn’t imagine the pressure of having all of those concubines.”
Zuko genuinely laughs this time, Lord Joji was quite the empath. “They’re terrifying. You’d think having their own secluded area would bring them some peace and serenity, yet they spend their days brawling with each other.”
The words slipped right out once it was just him and the host. He would’ve never shared that at any other event.
Joji’s clearly enjoying it, laughing at the image in his head. “Perhaps it’s time to bring in some fake eunuchs,” he sips his sake. “Declutter the court, so to speak.”
“Wait, what?”
He tenses at the sudden drop in Zuko’s tone. He couldn’t tell if he was offended or not, but he grew anxious as the silence went on. “I was just kidding, by the way,” he forces out a laugh. “It’s uh— typical humor around here. I always forget how crass we can be at times. Haha… I’m sure we look like a bunch of heathens to the rest of the world.”
“Huh?” The sudden self-depreciation pulled Zuko out of his thoughts. “Oh no, the humor here is wonderful. The eunuch idea is fucking genius.”
Joji pauses and looks at him for a moment, stuck on how he called it an idea. “It worked well for my grand uncle,” he says, testing the waters. “He was able to bring the house back down to a comfortable number in no time.”
“Is that so?” There’s a bit of skepticism in his tone. “Probably didn’t have that many to begin with.”
“It may take some time. But once they’ve finished their jobs, you can catch one of them in the final act and he’ll confess to everything during interrogation.”
“Getting more than one would be smart, wouldn’t it?” he muses to himself, then takes a sip from his glass. “You could probably just get a servant to catch them—avoid all the tears and pleading.”
Joji nods, “You’d be surprised how many attendants are willing to spy for you in exchange for a small bonus.”
Zuko suddenly huffs out a defeated laugh. “They’d only just send more.”
“Would you like my grand uncle’s information? Wait, never mind, I forgot you were—“
Zuko waves a hand. Even he forgot who he was for a moment there— he was bound to more than just the practice of keeping concubines. “I wouldn’t want to waste someone else’s time.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste at all,” he reassures him. “If you ever do change your mind though, I’d be more than happy to introduce you to him.”
“Thank you,” Zuko hums as something else catches his attention. “Could you remind me where the washroom is, again?”
—
The moon casted a faint light over the host’s backyard, revealing stone paths that allowed you to walk through a lush garden filled with delicate flowers and soft shrubs. The path took you past several wooden arches, long overtaken by nature as vines wrap up and cascade over the structures, gently rustling with each breeze.
You had hid behind one when you first heard footsteps, and then waited. You weren’t actually avoiding him, you had already expected he’d follow you out here, and just wanted to creep up on him once he got closer.
It’s not until he fully walks past you when you decide to make your presence known, magically appear a few feet behind him.
“Are you spying on me?”
“No.” You failed to startle him, but did manage to make him feel wrongfully accused. “I was just– I knew you were out here and I thought I’d get some fresh air, too.“
He braces himself. He didn't need to see the glass in your hand to know that you’ve been drinking. You had given it away when you casually stepped out of the shadows to greet him.
“Getting fresh air,” you muse to yourself as you walk up to him. “Like last night?”
The light drains from his eyes. He looks absolutely mortified, and doesn’t even try to deny it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I figured it’d be fun setting you off on a wild goose chase. I’m sure you have a perfectly normal explanation, though.”
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he doesn’t sound very certain of it. “I was already planning on touring the place.”
“You know I’m just fine.” It’s not like he’d be much help if trouble were to arise, you were more than capable of defending yourself. “Does keeping me away from Ryuko make you feel better?”
Knowing that you weren’t mad should’ve made him feel better, but being spoken to like a child was so much worse. You look like you’re about to giggle at his response, regardless of what it was.
“Actually no, I have a better question. Are you going to do this every time someone shows interest in me? Even when you already have Sai and all the other concubines?”
That’s not a question he wants to answer. He hasn’t even touched Sai at all during the trip, not that it’d make a difference since that was his job. “If you’re happy, then no.” How he still manages to be stubborn, you have no clue.
Your lips twitch into a smile. “You don’t think I’d be happy with him?”
There’s a spark of annoyance in his eyes, realizing he’s going to have to come clean about something you most likely already know about.
“You told him you liked your life and then he went on to tell you everything that was wrong with it— I think you’d be miserable with him.” He grows irritated by the words he was having to repeat. “And then he insulted your position by saying there was no future in it. You’ve done nothing but work towards bettering it!”
You had a feeling he overheard that conversation and once again, your intuition hasn’t failed you. “Are you sure it’s not because he tried to say that you think you own me?”
“Yeah. He studied me for an entire hour, yet I’ve never looked at you and thought of insulting you the way he did. He spoke over you that entire time and when he couldn’t sway you, he decided to hurt your feelings. And he still thought he deserved to be given a chance.”
He’s pretty much ranting at this point and it’s taking everything in him not to go off track and say something rude.
“He deserves to have his fucking tongue cut out.”
Whoops.
“…I think that might be too harsh of a punishment.” You said it more to lighten, trying to process how pissed off he’s been this entire time.
“Whether you find it harsh or not makes no difference to me. You shouldn’t have been spoken to that way,” he muttered, waving away whatever dignity he had left. “I never want to see anything like that happen again.”
You thought this would be more of a silly exchange where you’d make fun of him for being—well, pathetic. It would’ve been easier had he just felt threatened by Ryuko, but his reason for hating him is reasonable enough and you can’t find it yourself to tell him that he was wrong.
He waits for you to say the usual spiel about how he needs to stop making everything so difficult and to just have an heir already.
There was a bit of defeat in your tone when you spoke. “I wish you knew how tiring it is watching you do whatever you want, when I’ve done nothing but try to do the right thing.”
You sigh and reach forward, fingers gently brushing over the apple of his cheek, and with Zuko being dwindled down to a man who takes whatever he can get, he gravitates towards your touch.
“Maybe it’s time to give up,” he feebly suggests.
“If only the people knew how much of a fool they have for a ruler, too,” you softly say.
And like the fool he is, he places his hand over yours and just holds it there— making it one of the very few times he’s ever allowed someone to touch the scar on his face. “And what if I was just a fool?”
Now he’s just speaking nonsense. You know more than anyone how much he’d hate being a normal person. He liked having power—that was alright, he was one of the rare few who knew how to wield it properly.
“I wouldn’t allow that.” You continue to rub your thumb over his cheek, using a tone that’s far too tender for the answer you come up with. “I’d stage a coup d'état and put you right back where you belong.”
His lips slowly curve in a smile. “You’re making it very hard for me to be angry with our circumstances right now.”
“I know, at least you have me as a loyalist,” you hum, slightly tilting your head as you get a better look at him. “I’m starting to grow a little homesick, honestly— even if it is boring there.”
“You can go home early, if you want,” he offers with a second thought.
“I’ll be fine. It’s only 3 more days.”
“I hope you’re nicer to me by then. I’m a little homesick, too.”
How charming. “That’s if I don’t drink my memories away after tonight— this isn’t exactly a conversation I want to remember,” you sadly admit.
Zuko’s eyes soften, wishing you’d drink more around him often—you’re quite endearing in the state you’re in. “And why is that?”
“Because I’d prefer not to be overcome with embarrassment when I wake up tomorrow morning.”
His mind goes back to the morning after he first kissed you and chuckles. “It’s not that bad.“
You laugh blandly in return. “Not everyone’s as shameless as you.”
But perhaps it was time to even things out between you for once. He did complain about being the only one drunk that night, after all.
So in the moment of silence you shared with him, you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheekbone, allowing yourself to be selfish for once.
He’s never been so still in his life. You’ve yelled at him, rejected him, pushed him on to other women so many times that he’s lost count. Yet there was no denying that you felt something so incredibly deep for him. There was no need to spell it out— he saw it, felt it, heard it.
“What happened to never touching you again?” Zuko wasn’t complaining, but he was absolutely going to tease you.
“I’m afraid that only applies to you,” you say, feigning sympathy. “Unless you’d like to order me to stop touching you, as well.”
“I would never do such a thing,” he fights off a smile. “Though I would like to know what my punishment would be if I defied your orders.”
There was a sudden look of disbelief on your face, a little disappointment as well. “That is the sluttiest question I’ve ever heard, you know that?”
“I think the courtesans may have just corrupted your mind with all their crude little jokes.”
“Perhaps. They told me I’d make a fine courtesan the other day.” You run the backs of fingers across his jaw, ignoring the sudden twitch in his eye. “Could you imagine such a simple comment planting a seed in my mind?”
Fortunately, you’ve had enough drinks in you to be able to dismiss the sinister laugh that comes out of him. “No. I don’t want to imagine that, at all, actually.”
“Uh-oh,” you smile and take a sip. “Does the idea make you jealous, My Lord?”
“Jealous? Yes.” He plucks the glass from your hand and takes a sip of your sake. “A little angry, as well.”
“A little?”
His eyes narrow and speaks as if you had just challenged him. “I would buy you out before you got the chance to take customers.”
You throw out another idea. “What if I took a customer while waiting for you to finish the paperwork?”
“I’d turn him into a eunuch.” He watches as your smile slowly fades away.
“That’s a little much for a man that hoards concubines, no?”
He thinks to defend himself against hoarding accusations, but forces himself to let it go. “Does it matter if you’re planning on drinking your memories away tonight?”
You stare at him as you recall the last ten minutes or so. “I probably should.”
“Were you not going to?”
“I was on the fence about it,” you give a contemplative hum. “Eh—better safe than sorry.”
You turn to leave, but Zuko grabs your wrists before you take a step. “You’re not going back to ignoring me tomorrow, are you?”
“Depends on my mood tomorrow,” you smile and snatch your wrist away. “Bye!”
“Fuck—Wait! What kind of an answer is that?”
—
The last days of your visit were fairly normal.
You had ended up taking the rest of the time off. Everyone figured you needed the break anyways and you had zero objections to that.
It was the last day when everything went south.
Of course you just so happened to be there, after deciding to stay at the hotel for some extra rest before traveling back home.
The Madame at Cyra’s brothel would’ve had no issues letting you take a nap there. Had you actually done so, you would’ve been sleeping peacefully right about now— rather than awkwardly sitting in a silent room full of people who are too nervous to speak.
After thirty minutes of being tortured by discomfort, Lord Zuko and the Chamberlain finally walk through the door. The tears started almost immediately.
You guess the guard who had to go fetch them didn’t say what the emergency was. They didn’t look very mad. Chamberlain looked more worried. Zuko just stood there while Concubine Saiyo and one of the guards got on their hands and knees to beg for forgiveness.
“Lord Z-Zuko, I’m— I’m s-so so-sorry!”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty! Please spare my life. I beg you! Please!”
It takes a moment to click for Zuko and only you notice the glimmer of joy in his eyes when he finally realizes what has happened.
You were hoping he’d send you back to your room, but ended up having to kneel a few feet away from the two adulterers as they had to recall their stories in full. You’re not sure why that was still protocol. Even Zuko looked miserable as he had to listen to them, but the Chancellor was known to be a stickler.
The older man regretted it soon enough. Hearing the events of the sexual encounter quickly became a unique torture he was forced to endure.
Saiyo began to beg again in the end, and you felt a little bad. She was a nice girl.
“Please—please!! I’ll do anything!”
Zuko offers a sympathetic hum, only to remind her of the law. “I have no other choice but to remove you from the court. What kind of a message would that send to the others if I let you stay?” He was full of shit.
“My f-family will kill me!” she continued to cry.
He looks to the guard next to her, who’s staring out into space, tears all dried out. Zuko tries to ask him a question but struggles with the wording at first. Eventually he grows impatient and bluntly asks, “Did you enjoy fucking her?”
The guard grows pale, terrified of what the punishment for that would be.
“I’m not executing you. Not whipping you, either. Or whatever physical punishment they have for these kinds of things,” Zuko lets him know.
The guard sighs in relief, then bows. “I— Yes, I did.”
Chamberlain scoffs and looks at the guard in disgust. How the youth could willingly engage in such devious acts was beyond him.
“Sai, do y—“ Zuko tries to get the concubines' attention, but she's too busy dry heaving to notice. “Saiyo. Sa—my fucking gods—Sai!”
She throws her head back and wails. “I’m s-so sorry, my Lord!!”
“Do you want t—Sai, please,“ cut off once more, he slams his fist on the table next to him, startling everyone in the room. “STOP.”
She takes in a sharp breath, whimpering another apology as Zuko glared at her, daring her to sniffle again.
Zuko finally speaks and points to the guard. “If you don’t want to go home, I can gift you to him. You can be his wife.”
“W-wait— really?”
Zuko notices her bottom lip quiver. “Don’t. Just answer the question.”
“O-okay, yes. Please. I can’t go home.”
“Great.” He takes a sip of water. “You all can leave now— except for you.”
You don’t do a very good job of hiding your dismay, but you stay in place and wait for everyone to leave.
Zuko opens his mouth.
Saiyo pops in and whines, “Lord Zuko, do you hate me?!”
He rests his head in his hand and sighs. “No, I don’t hate you.”
“But—I cheated!“
“That’s okay. We found you a place to live and you are safe,” he says, trying to maintain his patience to the best of his ability. “I need to speak with Ms.—“
“But will you be fine?” she whimpers.
Her question actually manages to make Zuko smile a little, but it’s for reasons he can’t exactly share. “I will be just fine,” he hums.
The concubine needs some extra reassurance, so it wasn’t until a few minutes later when you two finally had the room to yourselves.
“Don’t you think you’re sitting a little too far?” he asks.
You are. Without a word, you bring the floor cushion upfront, ignoring the pleased look on his face because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
There’s a bit of a stare off until you finally break the silence. “You’re not punishing me for this.”
“There’s nothing to punish you for,” he chuckles. “Not that I’d ever have the heart to, anyway.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Just wanted to talk.”
“I’m kneeling in front of you,” you mutter, stating the obvious. “This doesn’t feel very casual.”
“Would you like to sit on my lap instead?”
“No,” you answer rather fast.
“Shame,” he relaxes, leaning on the armrest. “I must say I am having a very good day right now.”
You nearly roll your eyes, it’s not often you make mistakes, this one being punishable by death had it been made during the rule of the two previous Fire Lords. “I’m sure you are.”
“Feels very meaningful, as well.”
“Yeah?” You try to sound interested, but you have a feeling he’s going to eventually say something inappropriate. “How so?”
“You know,” he gestures at the door. “You brought them here because you wanted more space between us— I didn’t want space, I also don’t like my concubines. Then you ended up solving both of my problems and even showered me with some of your affection. I feel as if we’ve come full circle here.”
That wipes the smile off your face, you were counting on him to be kind enough to pretend like it didn’t happen.
You force out a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
He lets out an actual laugh, light and filled to the brim with content. “I’m talking about the banquet we attended a few days ago.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t—“
“Yes, you did,” he says, looking at you with amusement. “All drunk and sweaty, throwing yourself at me and begging me to f—“
“That did not happen!” you slam both hands on the ground and yelp.
“Oh, so you do know?”
“I do, now stop—please,” you beg him.
“Alright, fine,” he laughs. “Anyways, I just wanted to thank you, that's all.”
“Don’t thank me for any of that,” you murmur, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Ugh—If I’d known I’d be bringing two freaks together, I would’ve never brought guards. You should probably expect an apology letter from my father. Though I’m sure it’ll mostly be him begging you to allow him to torture the guard.”
Knowing your father, the news will probably have a chill running down his spine and sickened with worry. A mistake like this could very well result in you being taken in as a concubine in place of Saiyo, since you and your father would be the reason why he had one less concubine.
Zuko’s too busy thinking about how your father would be probably go into full, graphic detail on the proposed torture, leaving him mildy disturbed.
“I should probably write him a letter—let it be how he finds out about the incident and let him know neither of you are at fault.”
“If you could, that’d be wonderful,” you nod in content.
The weary look on his face never fades as his eyes trail past you and look off into the distance. Your father being the cause of it was hard to believe. There’s something he’s not telling you.
“I know I’m still on a break, but I’m on a fixed salary,” you say to lighten the mood, despite growing concerned over the sudden mood switch. “If you want my professional opinion.”
He gives an apathetic hum, letting the silence drag on some more as he takes your offer into consideration.
“I ran into my sister the other day.”
Your eyes widened and he confirmed it with a subtle nod, then continued to give you a breakdown of their brief reunion. It sounded like something that would’ve been more heartwarming, but in the end you understood why he didn’t look very moved. “I considered pardoning her, but that only lasted about an hour.”
“Probably for the best. She sounds like she’s found peace, and you got to avoid all the pushback and scrutiny a pardoning would’ve received.” You were sugar coating it, the council would’ve been up in flames. The only reason why you’re staying calm over him committing literal treason is because he seemed to need a friend right now.
“I’ll help her if she needs it, but she’s not coming back to the capital after everything I’ve had to do for this fucking place over the years. I gave my soul away in exchange for everyone’s peace,” he admits in defeat. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you murmur, not having much advice for him on the matter.
It has gotten a lot better over the years, but the beginning years of his reign have left lasting effects on him, though he’d never admit it.
He says it’s all been rewarding, but those years were thankless. No one took him seriously. He had multiple attempts on his life. He was terrified of being anything like his father, so his own people constantly took advantage of him for being too nice. When the word spread, people protested because they thought he was too weak.
Things finally started to pick up once he began to ally with different clans and create factions, which allowed him to get even more done since people were more willing to help and support him.
He’s loved by the majority now, but you’ve come to realize that the damage had been done. You felt sorry for him. His main goal of helping others has never changed, but he has no interest in getting to know people.
“Don’t give me that look,” he grumbles, rising from his seat.
“I wasn’t looking at you at all.”
He watches as you stand and walk to the other end of the room, putting the floor cushion in its rightful place. His gaze may have drifted lower than it should’ve, but it rose back up once you turned around.
He looks like he’s about to say something stupid, so you shoot him a glare. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, pointing at the cushion you had just put away, “just reminded me of the empty bed I’ll have tonight.” Everyone was leaving tomorrow morning, except for the new couple, who were to leave right away.
“Don’t complain as if you didn’t try to thank me for it,” you sigh.
“I’m not. I might have another way to thank you, though,” he steps in front of you just before you pass him and leans forward.
“Miss Advisor!”
Concubine Saiyo was still turning the corner when she cried out for you. Zuko quickly spins around and you take several steps away from him. Saiyo comes trotting in shortly afterwards, tears streaming from her cheeks.
“I’m leaving now. I will miss seeing you!” her voice trembles.
“I will miss you, too! I wish you the best of luck.”
Zuko had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but then found himself fighting back a smile as he watched you two wrap your arms around each other. If this was going to be the standard for farewells, he should just start bringing Concubines to trips, along with a fake eunuch. He’d be a free man soon enough!
“And because I like you, if you ever get sent to the west wing as a concubine, don’t listen to what any of them say because they are looking to set you up for failure,” Sai tightly grabs on to your shoulders, “the easiest way to win over the Lord’s affection is to relax your throat. It’s fine if you gag, if anything he’d rather you would—“
“SAIYO!” The name practically rips through both the Fire Lord’s and Chamberlain's vocal chords.
She glances at them, then hurries to tell you the rest. “The messier the better, honestly. Practice Yoga as well! He—“
it's easy to fall in love - and perhaps even easier to fall out of it when you discover the penpal who captured your heart might not be the man whose signature is on his letters
synopsis: a poor princess. a playboy emperor. and a devoted duke at his aide. heavy is the head that wears the crown - and heavier is the hand that wears the ring binding them together. what happens when you're up for the role of a bride? or the future empress?
pairing: emperor!gojo x princess!reader, duke!Geto x princess!reader
content: mdni, angst and smut and fluff, royal fantasy sort of au (any sort of historical accuracy is thrown out the window here lol), she falls first, he falls harder, gojo is a spoiled brat at first lol, gojo getting brutally humbled, Geto trying to steal reader from him, falling in love, heavy pining/yearning, hurt/comfort, accidental voyeurism, oral (f! receiving), kidnapping, mentions of murder/injury/torture, handcuffs, character growth, possessive geto, political schemes, unprotected piv sex, light breeding kink, fingering, loss of virginity, multiple povs and positions, creampie, backshots, marriage, making out, extremely protective gojo, proposals, confessions
Satoru Gojo was born lucky.
Beautiful and blessed. The sole heir to an empire that spawned over centuries, more wishes and wealth than any man could dream afforded to him before he could even walk.
Anything he wanted was his.
And if he didn't want it?
"I don't like her," Gojo complained, glaring through the stained glass at his afternoon play date, a potential bride - although at age twelve, he was still at least a decade away from dealing with something as dreadful as marriage.
"Please be nice," His attendant reminded him, fixing the collars on his shirt and huffing as she hurried to fix a stray strand of hair. "She's a princess too, you know."
"She's strange," He muttered under his breath, watching you sit politely at the table, hands folded in your lap, only occasionally smoothing out the skirt of your dress.
It was too big on you, probably passed down from a sister or some other family member. Frayed at the helm, like it'd been worn quite a few times before.
Some princess you were.
You'd been clinging to the shadows his whole life, attending bi-annual balls with your family just to cling to the background like a piece of art no one bothered to look at. He wouldn't have noticed, really, but your attention was annoyingly always on him.
He promised to be on his best behavior before they shooed him out to greet you, rolling his bright blue eyes the second they turned around and sticking a bug in your tea ten minutes into your so-called date just to see you squeak.
You pushed off the table trying to stand up, but it just made your cup spill in your lap instead - bug included.
It was almost cute to watch you panic, brows pushed together in a frustrated pout as you desperately tried to clean yourself, maids and attendants rushing out to see the commotion and their young master responsible for it.
But somehow, you were the only one who got scolded for it. Watching you get the blame made him feel bad, a harsh stab of guilt pricking at him, but he was quick to push it down.
Just the perks of being a prince, he supposed.
You were the unlucky one here.
Gojo always got his way - so why should he marry you?
He didn't even have to complain this time - whatever distant family member that brought you to the palace caught some grave illness, and you returned with them to whatever impoverished kingdom you came from.
Occasionally, he'd receive letters from you over the next handful (or two) of years, time passing while they went unopened, shoved off on his aide while he busied himself with politics and parties. Going from a prince to an emperor while you were gone after his father passed. Geto halfheartedly scolded him for not replying to you, insisted he should maintain a positive relationship even if he wasn't going to marry you, but what was the point of listening when he was supposed to be the man everyone listened to?
You didn't attend the balls anymore, but your letters grew more frequent, at least two a month left in the stack on his desk before Geto snatched the pile to reply for him.
"Why is she sending so many?" Gojo groaned, picking up one and squinting at the neat script on the front of the envelope, the ornate wax seal carefully stamped on. He reclined back in his office chair, legs sprawled out as he traced over the ink splotches on the ivory.
"Hm?" Geto murmured, too distracted with whatever form he was filling out to look up. Despite being his aide, he was a Duke too, technically in the line for the throne and with people of his own to manage and business to attend to.
"Our favorite princess," He dryly replied. You'd become something of a joke, more with himself than to Geto. A constant that was never even there, a shadow that followed him despite the years and distance that separated you. A running gag of a girl who couldn't take a hint.
He caught a whiff of a surprisingly intoxicating perfume, blinking a few times before realizing it must be from your letter. Geto noticed what he was holding a second too late, but Gojo was already cutting the envelope open and pulling the papers out.
"Wait-"
"It's addressed to me, isn't it?" Gojo teased, standing up and walking over to the sun-lit window to read it.
And the first line in its pretty cursive and swirling letters had him laughing already.
"My dearest Satoru?" He repeated incredulously, glancing back over his shoulder at his very much guilty friend.
"Look," Geto started, dark eyes narrowed as he let out a sigh.
"Is she under the impression I'm the one writing to her?" Honestly, before this moment? He'd never considered what Geto did with any of yours letters after he received them. Perhaps just polite replies?
Nothing that would make you comfortable enough to call him that.
"Yes," Geto curtly answered, his face still stoic, unreadable as Gojo gaped at him.
"Suguru, seriously-" He scoffed, returning to reading the letter once more as he shook his head.
He wasn't sure really what he thought he'd find in it.
Something to laugh at? A few short paragraphs somehow still stammering about something random.
Not your sincere words, asking him questions and inquiring about his health and the last set of reforms he rolled out, as if you were genuinely interested in all of it. Casually writing about something that happened back near your own capitol, dropping names he didn't know and discussing the possibility of adapting similar laws there too.
"She's rather sweet," Geto murmured, standing up and brushing off his uniform as he walked over to snatch the letter back.
Gojo wasn't done reading though.
He scampered away, holding up the letter and squinting at the last paragraph, skimming over it just to freeze. "She's coming here?"
"She is an Empress candidate," Geto bluntly reminded him, his lips pushed together in a tight frown before he tugged the letter free from Gojo's hand.
A handful of women would be showing up this week for him to officially meet, despite knowing half of them for most of his life anyway. People were starting to get impatient with the way he was dragging his feet to the alter, rumors swirling and complaints piling that he hadn't picked a bride. Even internally, the staff was starting to get annoyed picking up the slack from the duties an Empress would typically take care of.
It made sense you'd be included. A princess from an ally kingdom, no matter how impoverished, was still a princess. Trained and molded for the role of a ruler from birth.
How could he pick a bride when no one held his attention? Was it just meant to be a boring business decision for everyone else's benefit but his?
"What? Am I supposed to pretend I'm the one who's been writing to her this whole time?" Gojo groaned, trying to imagine how that would even go.
Perhaps it would be like when you were kids, back when the last time he'd seen you was a fucking decade ago, and you were too shy to stutter out more than a few syllables.
Or maybe you'd changed so much that he wouldn't even recognize you.
"I will inform her myself that it was me," Geto grunted, smoothing out the letter and returning to his desk.
"No, just," Gojo paused, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just let me read over her letters and I'll take care of it."
"I would prefer-"
"It's fine, I can handle it," Gojo insisted.
If he was going to let you down gently, wasn't the least he could do was learn a little about you first?
✧
He still hadn't meant to stay up all night reading the letters Geto had saved.
Sweet couldn't cover it.
You were a mystery book he thought he'd solved just to get proven wrong page after page.
The shy wisp of a worm that would so rarely return has stare had morphed into a bright butterfly, speaking so comfortably in perfume-soaked letters, flower petals you dried added between the pages.
Your prose would go from soft to snarky, telling stories of your home, shaping tales of holidays and the hard months in-between of managing your family's estate and fulfilling the duties expected of you on a tight budget. Barely speaking of yourself, but painting him a picture of the world that surrounded you in pretty stokes, always devoting a page to asking about him, bringing up the details Geto must've given you.
It wasn't polite. It was intimate.
Real and raw in an odd sort of way, more than casual concern or anything close, carrying a weight he was unaccustomed to when you finished a letter off with the wish he'd be in your dreams that night.
And strangest of all?
Gojo found he didn't dislike it. Not one bit.
Rather, a faint flame of regret had been born, small and quiet in the pit of his stomach as he poured over your pretty cursive and wondered if perhaps he should've been the one responding all this time.
It might've been his face your first fallen for, these words were for Geto.
Would you still have replied so often it had been him?
Shared your adoration so ardently? Or would you have gotten sick of his humor? His bluntness and overbearing tendency to kill the joke before he'd finished telling it?
He spent the rest of the week reading them again and again once he retired back to his room, like some strange bedtime story.
He'd fallen asleep with the last one still in hand, the corner crumpled under his grip when he woke the next morning to the harsh sun.
Yawning as he rolled out, the palace in somewhat of a frenzy for today's guests, a commotion he could hear even from upstairs. And honestly?
His heart had worked itself in a frenzy too.
Would you be arriving today too?
What would you say when you saw him? Would you throw your arms around his neck or kiss his cheek?
So what if Geto happened to be the one who wrote you back?
Gojo felt like he knew you too. Knew the names of your family members and what the weather was like back home. Had memorized enough lines, etched the swirls and sweeps of your penmanship into his brain, the way you signed his name and how you dotted and crossed your letters. Studied up on your kingdom in his spare time, shame creeping in that he'd never bothered to before.
He padded across the room barefoot, stretching his long limbs and snagging a silk robe from off his armchair, tying it loosely around his waist before walking out to the balcony.
Carriages were pulled up in front of the open gates, luggage being unloaded onto the maintained path.
And as luck would have it, you were there.
He wasn't sure how he knew, or what even caught his eye, a familiar flash of your hair color, a glimpse of your face, but he knew. And fuck, you were gorgeous.
Pretty in a way he never paid attention to before.
An idiotic idea took shape in the back of his brain.
Who wouldn't be honored to have the Emperor personally come out to greet them?
ᡴꪫ
The palace was precisely how you remembered it.
Sprawling and sun-bathed, all the colors warmer, brighter than the rest of the world. Deep green grass and blossoming flowers lining the paths, vines climbing up the sides of the walls.
"Can you please send my bags ahead to my room? I'd like to look around the garden first," You smiled at the attendant, trying hard not to pick at the nails you'd spent so long painting last night at the inn you'd spent the night at. Bathing and exfoliating, waking up far too early to prepare for today. The first time you'd see your Satoru again.
The attendant curtly nodded, carrying your bags and hurrying up the path, and you wondered what else you might find here.
You weren't delusional enough to think Satoru would actually choose you when there were other more capable options. Women with more wealth and finer families, prettier too.
But he was your friend at least, wasn't he?
And sometimes, some people fell in love with their friends, right?
You walked down the weaving side paths, heading for a fountain you used to toss coins in as a child, wishing for the man you might marry now.
The stone sculpture sitting atop it was weathered, cracked and worn by rain and age, but the water was still a crystalline blue, coins littering the bottom and the sun bounced off the surface. You sat by the edge, fingers skimming over it and sending ripples across.
You didn't have any coins on you today.
What would you have wished for this time?
"Oh? It's bad luck to steal those, you know," A playful voice called out, starting you as your head snapped to the sound of it.
Satoru Gojo in the flesh. And uh, a robe.
Nothing else.
You blinked, blushing at the sight of his broad chest on display, his robe tied low enough you could fucking count his muscles, his hair mused and messed up like he just rolled out of bed, blue eyes still hazy with sleep.
"I wasn't planning on it," You wryly muttered, averting your gaze back to the fountain to stop yourself from staring, suddenly embarrassed. Still, there was a slight sense of familiarity, the way he smiled so easily at you, his knee brushing against your leg when he strolled closer.
"You're not excited to see me, princess?" He teased, plopping down next to you on the edge.
"It has been a while, hasn't it?" You tilted your head to the side, studying his face, the barely-there dimple by his smirk, the thick lashes framing his eyes. They looked ever more beautiful than you remembered, the sky and the reflection from the water reflecting back in them.
"I should apologize for my truly terrible behavior back then," He chuckled, not entirely sorry at all, but confident enough you'd forgive him for it anyway.
He'd never been hated in his life.
Even at his worst, you couldn't crush the feelings that'd sprouted in your heart when you were younger and only bloomed with each letter he'd sent.
"Apologize then," You dared, something about his presence bringing out a boldness in you.
He leaned in a little closer, and you couldn't help the way your eyes flickered down to the soft pink of his lips as they formed the words. "I'm very sorry."
"Okay," You shrugged, feigning far more nonchalance than you felt.
"Do you forgive me?" He pouted, sticking a flower he must've plucked on the way here in your face.
"Did I say that?" You rolled your eyes, grabbing the flower and carefully examining the petals of the bright orange lily. "I suppose you must not know much about flowers."
"They're pretty," He hummed. "Like you."
"This one symbolizes passion," You murmured, picking a petal off and setting it afloat on the water. "Or hatred."
It was bad luck back home.
He laughed, leaning in closer while you picked off another petal, playing a crude game of he-loves-me-not in your own head while he watched.
You were on not when you heard someone approaching.
"Your Imperial Majesty," A cold voice called out, and you both turned to see a shrewd blond man pushing a thin pair of glasses up his nose.
"Nanamin, have you met-" Satoru grinned, slinging a muscled arm over your shoulder.
"You were supposed to meet Mei Mei half an hour ago," The blond man interrupted with a scoff, glaring pointedly at your host.
A flicker of jealousy shot through you, pierced your heart at the reminder you were just one of several women he was meant to entertain in the coming weeks.
"She'll live," Satoru dismissed with his hand, yawning as he shifted, spreading out his long legs like he was content to stay all day.
"Please don't make preferential treatment a problem on the first day," Nanami muttered, exasperated. "Even if the princess was was penpals with your friend."
"Satoru?" You glanced over at him, confusion probably scrawled over your face. But he was just wincing, well-aware of whatever he meant.
"It's not," He hesitated, jaw pulled tight. "I mean-"
The horrifying realization set in, all the hope draining from your body.
"Were you not the one writing to me?" You bluntly asked.
"Well, no, but-" Gojo admitted, and you suddenly felt ill. The breakfast you'd barely been able to get down threatening to make a reappearance, but a hot lump formed in your throat, and you couldn't swallow it. Choking on the idiotic dreams you'd had of him actually coming to like you at all. "I, I read your letters and-"
"I apologize if my letters were an inconvenience on your time," You politely said, switching on your manners before you shouted obscenities at him.
"I read them," He insisted again, as if that made it much better.
"You have a meeting to go to. Don't let me keep you," You coldly replied, holding your head high and tossing the rest of the flower in the fountain. You should find your room anyway, collapse into a real bed to cry in.
"Can we talk for a few moments? I don't want to end-"
"Your Imperial Majesty," You curtly cut him off, brushing off your skirt to stand. "I have no interest in your pity."
"Could you give me a chance?" He stood up after you, but you refused to give him so much as a second glance.
Your letters didn't deserve a reply. Why should he get any answers now?
✧
"What am I supposed to do?" Gojo groaned, head in his hands.
"Leave her alone?" Geto casually suggested, flipping through a newspaper and reclining back in an oversized armchair.
"She refuses to even speak to me at meals, ignores all the gifts I send her, I mean, what girl doesn't like flowers?"
"What do you want me to do?" Geto grunted.
"I dunno," Gojo shrugged, rubbing his eyes. He'd barely been sleeping, rereading your letters and struggling to understand why he was so stuck on whether or not you liked him.
It shouldn't matter.
It shouldn't bother him that you wanted nothing to do with him. It should make his life easier, really, one less person for him to pick from, one less person to disappoint.
Although he didn't really want to pick at all, desperate for another excuse to postpone the whole marriage charade.
"You'll be expected to dance with her at the banquet tomorrow night," Geto dryly muttered, probably just annoyed he'd also have to be in attendance too.
Gojo had been dragging him around everywhere he went, using him as a shield to keep the more forward women somewhat at bay. Most of them could be sorted in two groups. The ones that wanted what was under his clothes. And the ones that wanted what was on his head.
Mei Mei was the worst offender, making crude and cruel jokes disgusting by a glittering smile, always trying to threaten her way into the seat next to him, aiming for his throne next.
Money hungry and greedy in a way that gold still didn't fully suffice. She wanted everything.
Gojo would rather die than slip a ring on her finger, despite her influence on the other court ladies, despite her already substantial wealth and ties to some of the more powerful lords and merchants.
What power was theirs compared to his?
You stayed clear of the rest of the candidates, but Gojo kept dragging you back in to every event planned, your clipped voice and cold exterior only making him try harder to squeeze himself between the cracks in your armor.
Making a fool of himself by convincing the chefs to prepare cuisine from your kingdom just for you to politely decline and shut your bedroom door in his face. Consulting the gardener to get fresh cuttings for a bouquet of all the flowers you'd ever sent him, even rare strains from the conservatory, but you'd only grabbed the bundle before shutting the door on him again. Asking if you'd care to accompany him to tea when you bumped into each other in the hall just for you to decline.
He could probably count the number of real conversations you had on both hands, when you were stuck sitting next to him and he asked question after question, desperate for something he couldn't even name. Forgiveness? Your favor?
You were the most frustrating woman he'd ever met and he couldn't shake the feeling he wanted you to frustrate him for the rest of his life.
Every sharp sentence and pointed glare just dragged him deeper under your spell, pushing his head underwater just by rolling your eyes and scoffing his way, drowning in his own despair and desire.
"You think she'll let me?" Gojo murmured, sitting back down at his desk and pulling a clean sheet of paper from a drawer, snagging a pen.
"Probably not," Geto dismissed, grabbing a book from the shelf and heading for the door, only glancing back once before he pulled it open. "I wouldn't get your hopes up."
Gojo would just have to try anyway.
ᡴꪫ
You hated Satoru Gojo almost as much as you used to love him.
He was nothing like the letters. Not suave or smooth, no words layered with hidden meanings for you to unravel and savor. He didn't say all the right words or know what would soothe your hurt. In fact, everything he said was wrong.
Abrasive, blunt, cheeky, you could probably assign an adjective for every letter of the alphabet to him and still not run out of words. Even worse?
He was cute - in the most annoying way.
His persistence in persuing pestering you had started to grow on you, more like a mold than a flower. But still, you'd found yourself searching for him in the corner of every room, waiting for him to show up and slide into the seat next to you.
Asking an absurd amount of questions, always pinning his focus precisely on you like there'd be a quiz on your answers.
Every time you'd get close to having fun, you'd remember what you'd forgotten.
He could've asked you any of it in a letter.
So yeah, you loathed those pretty blue eyes that haunted your dreams, glittering and gleaming with freedom you'd never have. You could feel them on you even now, skimming over you with silent appraisal. Judging if you were up to his standards.
You hadn't been before, had you?
He had never bothered to put a pen to paper to personally write you back until now, a single sheet slipped under your door while you were getting ready for this insufferable banquet.
Save me a dance? - S
Was that the most he could muster?
You were such a fucking idiot for thinking someone like him would ever fall for someone like you.
"Mind if I join you?" A honeyed voice snapped your attention away from this evening's third glass of wine.
"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders, glancing over to find the dark-haired man Gojo was usually with.
Was there something in the water here?
He was nearly as handsome as Gojo, just in a different way, his features sharper, more sweeping, his intense stare warm to disguise how calculating it really was, pretty lips curled up in a deceptively kind smile.
Still, your recognized him from the long hair alone. He was a Duke, a knight too if you recalled correctly, but really, it was his association with Gojo that had you so wary.
"I'm Suguru Geto," He introduced himself anyway, his eyes flickering down to your hand as he waited for you to offer it to him.
"I'm aware," You forced a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room for some other empty corner to slink off too. Gojo was watching both of you, probably displeased that his friend was infringing on his favorite joke? Pastime?
You weren't positive what box Gojo had put you in.
But then Geto grabbed your hand anyway, gracefully bending down to kiss the back of it. Sturdy fingers pressing into your palm and soft lips on your skin as your cheeks flushed with heat.
"Is it alright if I confess I know you too?" You froze, still staring down at the gorgeous man holding your hand and grazing his lips over your skin, the rest of the room forgotten.
"You do?" You breathed, too unsure to even move.
"I was the one replying to your letters," He admitted, and the flicker in his eyes held a fire you'd never seen directed at you.
"Oh?" Your voice pitched a little too high, sounding more like a squeak than seductive.
He chuckled, standing up straight but not letting go of your hand. He stepped closer, and you noticed how tall he was, probably the same height as Gojo, hovering over you all broad and strong, his frame well-built from years of training.
His stare was too intense to meet, your eyes flickering away just to notice a white-hot glare directed your way. Or, well, his way.
Gojo's stare was glued to the two of you, obviously jealous and jaded in a way you hadn't conceived he might be capable of. A thrill ran up your spine, sucking in a shallow inhale as Geto's other hand found your waist.
"Would you care for a dance?"
✧
Gojo was seething in silence.
He knew he was staring, he knew other people were probably staring at him. But he couldn't manage to tear his eyes away from you.
You looked almost ethereal, makeup and hair carefully styled by the maids he'd sent over, subtle and soft and glowing. You were wearing a gown he'd custom ordered last minute, a pretty shade of silver that was supposed to match the medals and pins adorning his own outfit. Meant to be a pair.
And yet, there you were, being swept off your feet by Geto, his hands on your waist and yours crossed around his neck. Grinning at something he was saying, having fun.
Jealousy tasted worse than he ever imagined.
Acidic and sour, unable to focus on the conversation surrounding him, too absorbed in the way your face lit up when you laughed.
He was approaching before the song even ended, pawning his drink off to a passing waiter, the crowd naturally parting for him until he approached you and your dance partner.
"I trust you're having fun?" Gojo greeted, putting on his best smile to hide the fact he was fuming inside. Geto's hand lingered on your back, just a little too low to be proper and polite.
"If I say yes, will you return to your harem?" Your smile was barbed with thorns, hurt and humiliation still burning under its surface.
"I'm a one-woman man," He protested with a pout. And sure, he had a bit of an, um, unsavory reputation for being a flirt, but he was technically still a virgin.
Having sex when just a single slip-up could carry repercussions for the rest of his reign was a bit of a turn-off.
"Oh, I'm sure you're much too busy to entertain women when you have someone else handling your matters for you," You coolly replied.
"Would you allow me to apologize to you properly then? Over a dance?" He asked, trying to ignore the way Geto stiffened, his fingers digging a little harder into your side. "Just one and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."
"Fine," You relented, glancing up at Geto with a look he wished you'd give him instead. "Perhaps we can finish this conversation afterwards?"
"Of course, Your Highness," Geto murmured, clearly teasing judging by the way your lips curled up in a smile at the cheek tone he used your title.
Taking his place by your side, Gojo pulled you close, a hand on the your back as you reluctantly slipped your much smaller hander in his, wishing you weren't wearing gloves so he could feel the warmth of your palm.
You matched his steps, your focus always just past him, refusing to meet his eyes as he lead you through the dance.
"Sincerely, I am sorry, I should've just replied to your letters myself," He murmured, hoping you could hear it in his voice that he meant it. "I don't have an excuse."
"I shouldn't have expected you to write me back, I suppose," You sighed, swallowing hard.
"No, it's my fault," Gojo admitted. Sure, Geto usually read through his letters and decided what to pass on to him anyway, but still, he'd seen your name, had made the decision himself to let Geto take care of it.
"Am I supposed to beg to be your bride now that you've graced me with an apology?" You wryly said, and the way your lips curled up in the faintest smirk when you mocked him made his heart stall in his chest.
How was he supposed to say he was starting to consider begging you to be his bride?
"I wouldn't be entirely opposed," He tried to joke back just for you to stomp on his foot. It was worth the pain to see you smile.
"Oops," You shrugged, and he just squeezed your hand, pulling you in closer by your back before dipping you down low.
And fuck, he wished he could capture the enthralling expression on your face forever.
The way your lips parted in a surprised gasp, your eyes going wide and lashes fluttering while he held you. It felt like someone had knocked all the air out of his chest, unable to catch his breath when you looked at him like that.
"Mind if I cut in?" Mei Mei purred, grabbing his arm before Gojo had even brought you back up to your feet.
"Be my guest," You murmured, a little dazed as your gaze flickered from him to her. Resigned.
"Wait a moment," Gojo started, spit looking in the back of his mouth.
"Have a good night, Your Imperial Majesty."
"The song's not over yet," He pleaded, a hint of panic seeping in at the last few seconds he'd get to spend in your company this evening. Geto was watching with a drink in hand, an annoying smirk curled up on his lips. A snake waiting to strike.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
✧
Would it be so bad for him to behead a bitch?
She just wouldn't stop talking, and that was coming from him.
"I really must return," Gojo interrupted her story, glancing around the deserted part of the garden Mei Mei had dragged him to. The moon was hanging high overhead, stars dusting the sky, thin clouds threatening to cover them up.
It was dull, really.
You were prettier.
Was this what falling in love felt like?
Finding you in the stars and in the flowers, a song that never left his head and made his heart ache, your laugh a melody stuck on loop in his mind.
"Is that so?" Mei Mei hummed, unamused.
He blinked, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. But she didn't leave.
"Has your mind already been made then? On our next Empress?" She slyly asked. Not on his bride, or his wife. Just who would get the title.
"Excuse me?" Gojo still feigned innocence.
"It's obvious who has your favor," Mei Mei simply said, a razored edge to her voice.
"I haven't made my decision," He shrugged, like it wasn't just because he was pretty sure you'd say no if he asked. His time was running out though, only a few days left until he was expected to make an announcement or extend everyone's stay.
"Well, I suggest you reconsider," Mei Mei chided, barely even bothering to disguise her threat. She disappeared down a path, not stomping, but clearly displeased.
Gojo ignored her, folding his arms and watching a cloud drift by lazily above, wispy but just enough to conceal the moon anyway.
Would you still be inside? Or had you slipped back to your room at the first opportunity?
He was planning on keeping his promise to you, but he'd prefer it if you stayed even if he could only stare from afar.
And would it be completely delusional to believe tonight was progress?
He glanced back up at the stars, thanking them silently for sending that headache of a woman away when he heard it.
Your laugh.
His head whipped around, searching before he spotted you. With Geto.
You were leaning back against the railing of a nearby balcony overhead, giggling at something he was saying to you, head tilted to the side as you nodded along.
Gojo wasn't really thinking, brain unfortunately utterly blank as he stepped closer.
"Does your silver tongue typically work on women?" You were teasing Geto.
"I've never tried," Geto purred back. Liar.
"Oh?" You didn't believe him either.
"Is it working on you?" He inquired, and Gojo wanted to shout or scream to stop the seconds from slipping by and your heart slipping away with them when he saw the smile on your face, the subtle way your stare drifted over his friend before you shrugged.
He wasn't sure how it happened, only catching Geto's mouth moving before your own parted, surprised and unsure before you hesitantly nodded. Then Geto was leaning in for a kiss, a calloused hand cupping your face and adjusting it just slightly so he could kiss you how he liked.
You kissed him back.
Gojo knew he should leave.
Pretend he hadn't seen a second of your private exchange.
But just as quickly as his lips were pressed to yours, they were ghosting down your throat, leaving a trail of delicate pecks as Geto's other hand hiked up your dress.
Getting down on his knees and holding your hips steady while he left love bites across your thighs, sharp teeth sinking into your soft flesh.
But Gojo's gaze had already shifted back to your face, the way you leaned your head back as your fingers sifted though his silky strands of black hair, tugging Geto closer when two of his own fingers hooked over the thin band of your pretty lace panties.
He almost wondered if Geto had anticipated an audience, set the stage with you as an unwitting performer, your eyes fluttering closed and a gorgeous gasp escaping when he did, in fact, prove just how effective his tongue could be.
Gojo dismissed the thought, dissolving back into the shadows as he forced himself to follow the nearest cobbled path as far away from this evening's show as possible.
It felt like a declaration of a cold war.
Who was Gojo to turn down a challenge?
✧
Conceiving a new strategy was harder than he thought.
He's stayed up half the night creating plans just to crumple up the paper and toss it in the trash.
You were cold and considerate and could probably break his heart in a million different ways, but he was tempted to just glue it back together for you to break again.
Eventually, he'd requested for Geto to come to his room the next morning, halfway debating dropping hints that he'd seen his risque rendezvous before deciding to just pretend he was oblivious to whatever was brewing between the two of you.
"You called?" Geto murmured.
Gojo fixed his own shirt collar and noted his friend's reflection in the mirror, the long, dark hair tied off his neck in a low ponytail, bangs sticking to his forehead and uniform wrinkled from wear.
"Would you mind arranging breakfast with her?" He heard himself ask, knowing he didn't need to specify who and studying Geto's expression in the mirror, the drop of hostility that disappeared just as quickly as it flashed over his face. "In the conservatory?"
"I'll go by her room and request she join you," He nodded, a sharp jerk of his head. Sweat was still sticking his bangs to his forehead, worn from an early-morning training session Gojo had missed.
Geto left before Gojo could ask for anything else.
Was it jealousy?
Did he just not want Geto to take something he thought was his?
He almost wished it was, almost wished he could pin the blame and point a finger at some shitty side of himself for the growing feelings stirring in his chest.
It was need.
The pathetic kind that festered on his denial, that grew more the harder he fought it.
He'd been handed everything his whole life, and you were the first he was painfully aware he'd never deserve.
He had a chance and fucked it up.
You weren't exactly the most forgiving type.
Wouldn't bend to his will or beg him for affection. And for some bizarre reason, it just made him crave yours all the more.
He had a feeling even if you did show him an ounce of it, if he was actually lucky enough to be showered in your adoration, he'd be still chasing you for more until he was bones, buried somewhere and probably bound to follow you even into the next life.
Gojo found himself double and triple checking the plates and utensils in the conservatory, rearranging the placemats and adjusting muffins on trays to stop himself from anxiously glancing over to the entrance every five seconds.
Did you decline?
Feign an illness or fake an accident just to avoid him more?
When the doors finally opened, it wasn't you. It wasn't even Geto.
A panicked cluster of his staff and a few guards, hurrying over to him with nervous expressions. He spotted Nanami amidst all the chaos, a deep crease between his brows as he bypassed the rest of his companions.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Nanami coldly greeted with a small bow. "There seems to be an issue."
"What kind?" Gojo was grinding his teeth, icy dread seeping into his blood, veins freezing over while he examined the panic in everyone's eyes.
"It seems the princess is not in her room this morning," Nanami bluntly said.
"Or in the palace," One of the guards nervously added.
"I don't understand," He simply said. "Where is she?"
"W-we're not sure, Your Imperial Majesty, we've searched and-"
"Search again," Gojo commanded.
You couldn't be missing. You promised him. Okay, perhaps not promise. But you said you'd see him tomorrow. And it was tomorrow. You were probably curled up in a hidden nook of the library, or perhaps taking an early morning nap in some unused corner of the garden. Fuck, he'd even rather you be sleeping in under Geto's sheets than just gone.
They just weren't searching hard enough, right?
ᡴꪫ
The rest of the world was dark.
You tried to move, but your hands were tied behind your back, ankles ensnared together and after a few panicked seconds, you realized that there must be some kind of blindfold covering your eyes too.
The harder you tried to wiggle out, the tighter the bindings felt, and a fresh wave of terror immobilized you. If you screamed, would someone here and come to save you? Or would it bring whoever kidnapped you back?
Fear for the latter forced you to freeze, only subtly feeling around for anything nearby once you realized you were laying on your side on something soft. You tried to roll over, but you only dropped down to land on the cold wooden floor of what you guessed was a cabin, hitting your cheek hard on the solid ground.
Your memory was hazy. There was the banquet, dancing with Gojo before Geto walked you back to your room and dragged you out to the balcony. His hands on your body and his warm mouth dancing over your skin. But he'd kissed your forehead good night after it was over, suggesting you sleep well before and leaving while the moon was still high. Afterwards, you vaguely recalled getting ready for bed, changing and drinking a cup of tea before last night? Two nights ago?
It wasn't like you had any way to know how much time had passed.
You were a unfortunately starving though, throat parched and lips cracked.
Would anyone bother looking for you?
Satoru was probably busy picking his future bride, a position you'd been a fool to think you could ever fill. You barely knew Suguru, despite the letters and the longing you'd felt in his stare. Not nearly enough to come to your rescue and risk himself.
If it was about a ransom, your family wouldn't pay it.
Winter would be there soon, and feeding the mouths of many were more important than the life of one. You weren't an exception.
You didn't know how long you laid there, listening out for the slightest sounds and trying to make judgments of where you could be and why they'd even bother taking you.
"Should we feed her?" A guy grumbled, his voice muffled and hardly audible, separated by at least a wall.
"No," A woman's huff, haughty and irritated.
"But what if-"
"He's going to make the announcement tonight. He can't delay it any longer," She condescendingly scolded, and the voice clicked. One of the other candidates. Mei Mei. Just another misfortune in your life with Gojo to blame at the helm. "We'll let her go afterwards."
"A-alright," The guy probably responsible for guarding you grunted.
"Just dump her somewhere she'll be found after midnight," Mei Mei instructed, and then there was the sound of heels clicking, a neigh of a horse in the distance, a carriage probably waiting to return her to the palace.
They wouldn't bother investigating if you were recovered safely after all. No point wasting resources on a poor princess who'd be leaving without a ring soon.
Just so Mei Mei could claim her new crown.
A burning stake of indignation stabbed through you. She'd gone through the trouble of kidnapping you for what? As if Gojo would've ever actually chosen you.
All you'd shared was a handful of awkward conversations and a slow dance.
You couldn't decide what you thought of this current hin. His easy smiles and burning eyes. The way he wore everything he felt on his face when he was around you, like he was just as conflicted as you.
Who was he really? A spoiled man who thought a sorry could did everything? Or was there sincerely in those pink lips?
You supposed it didn't matter.
He wouldn't come for you.
✧
"I'm not announcing shit," Gojo growled, ripping up the fourth letter slid under the crack in his door in the past thirty minutes from impatient advisors and worried maids about whether or not they needed to set up the ceremony hall.
"It's unfortunate, but-"
"Unfortunate?" He scoffed, interrupting Geto mid-sentence. "She's clearly been kidnapped."
"And she'll be returned," Geto calmly explained. "It has to be someone associated with one of the other candidates. Mei Mei would be my guess."
"So let's arrest her," Gojo whined, boots squeaking as he paced the floor.
It'd been three days.
Three long days of looking everywhere, organizing searches and setting up shifts to find you. Rumors had started to spread that perhaps you'd run away, hiding somewhere and pretending to be a peasant just so you didn't have to marry him.
Gojo refused to believe that. Not when there was the slightest sliver of a possibility you needed his help somewhere.
"What if she decides to get rid of the evidence then?" Geto argued, attempting to be the voice of reason while Gojo's panic ran free.
Would Mei Mei get rid of you?
She was clearly fucking crazy enough to kidnap you.
"What do you suggest then?" Gojo grunted, struggling to reign himself in, to keep himself collected enough to have the same objectivity.
"Proceed with the announcement as planned," Geto murmured. "They'll probably leave her for us to find at some village or town close to wherever they're hiding her at. Just pretend you don't know anything and we can arrest Mei Mei for her part in it once we have proof."
Gojo guessed it made sense if Geto's suspicions about their motives were correct. It would give him a reason to re-do this whole fucked up charade of choosing a wife. Give him a second chance to prove he was going to pick you. To convince you he cared.
He still felt absolutely useless now though.
What good was power if he couldn't use it to keep even just one person safe?
"What if they don't?" His strong shell was cracking, broken bits and jagged edges revealed with every frustrated word.
"I'll keep looking for her anyway," Geto reassured.
It didn't make him feel better.
It was stupid and selfish, but Gojo wanted to be your hero for once, play the knight who swept in at the last minute to save you from someone evil. Show that he could love you too - if you just let him.
"Go look," Gojo muttered, running his fingers through his hair and swallowing hard, the regret growing roots in his guts already.
He might not be the man of your dreams today.
But he was a better one than yesterday. Learning to be the kind of guy who'd let someone else take the spotlight if it meant you'd be safe.
To know you're okay.
And maybe?
He still had a chance to be yours someday.
ᡴꪫ
You never actually expected to be rescued.
Or, at least, you hoped that's what the commotion was outside. Swords clanging and the gross sound of squelching through the door before it swung open with a creak, banging into the wall as the floorboards groaned.
You flinched and something sharp grazed against your skin. But then you felt warmth, a large hand grabbing your arm before you heard him.
"Stay still for me," Geto murmured, holding you in place while he cut off all your bindings. You tried not to move, relief flooding through you once all your limbs were once again free, and he tugged the blindfold off.
It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light, blinking as he helped you to your feet just for them to collapse from underneath you. He hurried to remove his cloak, covering up your torn and tattered nightdress with it with a quiet chuckle, picking you up and cradling you against his warm body once he sheathed his blood-stained sword.
"Sorry it took so long," He hm-ed, his voice honey in your eyes, soothing over your injuries and soaking into your skin.
You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing would come out, your throat too sore to form words. He pulled out a leather waterskin with his free hand, unscrewing the top and bringing it to your lips.
You only managed a few short sips, just enough to dull the ache before he brought it back down to his belt.
There were other voices, men you couldn't see, talking amongst themselves, fellow knights you guessed. Your heart felt a little strange at the thought Gojo had actually sent more than one person to search for you - that he hadn't just given up.
Or was it all Geto's doing?
"We have to head back now," He murmured, brushing your hair away from your face with a soft sigh. "We're running a little late."
Late for what, exactly?
"No," You managed, shaking your head and clinging to his shirt harder. What would await you there next? Being dragged to the altar? Or forced to watch Gojo announce he belonged to someone else?
"No?" Geto echoed, amusement reflecting in his dark eyes.
"Can't we go somewhere else?" You croaked, voice cracking every couple words. "Your estate?"
Would that be considered a scandal? One of the Empress candidates ditching Gojo for a Duke instead?
You wanted to believe that maybe that wouldn't be so bad. You'd be safe. Secure.
He wouldn't make your stomach flip or your heart ache. Wouldn't weigh on your soul the way Gojo did, wouldn't claw his way into each waking thought no matter how many times you scratched him out.
A quiet love that grew over time. One you could live with.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Geto slyly said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll take care of you."
✧
"I'm glad you came to your senses."
Gojo was just glad he'd be able to throw Mei Mei in a cell and toss the key down a drain in two hours.
But first?
He just had to make it through this fake announcement, plastering on a polite smile and put on a show in front of his people to promise he'd found their next Empress.
Even if standing next to someone who made him sick.
Mei Mei kept edging closer, leaning down to probably murmur another mocking assessment of the situation before the wide double doors swung open to the ceremony hall, whispering and gasps erupting from the crowd as everyone turned around.
Seeing you in Geto's arms with another woman clinging to his was a kind of cruelty Gojo had never known.
The way your cheek was pressed against Geto's chest, fingers holding onto his shirt like he was your savior made Gojo's breath hitch in his throat. He was halfway down the first steps when his fake bride-to-be grabbed his sleeve to stop him.
Your wrists were raw, you lips parched, a bruise on your cheek making it apparent to anyone with eyes you hadn't just run away. A cloak draped over you like you were in something indecent under it, hopefully just a nightgown instead of something worse.
"Are you ok-"
"Don't come closer," Geto called out, and there was the soft clink of someone reading for their sword. It wasn't him, but the guards by his side.
"What?" Gojo almost laughed, blinking hard like he was waiting to get the joke.
He was flanked before Geto even got to the punchline.
"You're under arrest for treason," He coldly answered, and Gojo was too stunned to put up a fight when they put him in heavy iron cuffs.
How the fuck could he commit treason?
He was the emperor, the sun and the stars and the sky. He supposed he'd failed to consider it meant little if he didn't have support, if the pillars upholding him crumbled and cracked.
The sky had fallen. His luck has run dry.
"For the murder of your father, the previous Emperor, as well as-" Geto listed names like a death sentence, family members he'd never spared a second thought for when they passed, all accidents or early illnesses he hadn't even considered suspicious.
His most trusted advisor, his closest friend, was fucking framing him.
Had he been set up from to start?
Chained up like some animal while Geto delivered the charges stony-faced with you clutching his clothes and watching the scene unfold. Mei Mei was being cuffed too behind him, read off her own offenses for orchestrating your kidnapping. Or had that been apart of Geto's plan too?
This wasn't a mistake or misunderstanding.
This was a coup.
Judging by the hurt in your eyes, the pretty part of your lips as you stared at him in disbelief, you were just as confused and clueless as him.
He'd forgotten happy endings were typically reserved for children reading fairytales.
He wasn't prince charming. Wasn't the guy who got the girl.
Was it even destiny or was Gojo was just damned to be the villain in your story.
ᡴꪫ
Something was wrong.
A certain heaviness in the air, the strained looks cast your way every time Suguru took you somewhere new, a bakery to buy you fresh pastries or the seamstress designing your wedding gown. Somber and grim, like they knew a secret you didn't.
Gojo had ruled with strength, sincerity.
People were just scared of Suguru.
You supposed your rushed marriage was a sign in itself, the diamond on your finger a collar of a different size. Getting married in a month was fast even by royal standards.
But Suguru insisted. It was important to seal the union between your family's kingdom and the already oversized empire he'd stolen from under Gojo's nose.
Stolen wasn't the correct word, you guessed.
But that's what it felt like, didn't it?
Blindsided and burned by his most trusted ally and dragged to the dungeon to wait for a trial that kept getting delayed.
The accusations were hard to accept.
The idea that the same guy who showed up to your door with big bouquets and offered to share his dessert with you during meals, asking approximately a hundred times if everything was to your taste, desperate for the smallest bit of approval could also be a stone-cold murderer? Serial killer if what Suguru was saying was true?
You couldn't picture him poisoning his own father.
Setting up hunting accidents or pushing someone off a high ledge.
But what else were you supposed to believe when Suguru had suggested marriage just two days after they locked Gojo up? Swearing it was for the stability and safety of both of your people. Promising that he'd loved you long before he met you. That somewhere in between all those letters he'd been longing for you all this time.
But the weeks had only brought growing unease about the entire situation, walking into hushed conversations and asking questions just to get shut up with firm kisses and a hand up your dress.
So you kept your suspicions to yourself.
Let him show you off and concealed your thoughts in your letters back home to a family whose only replies concerned how your future would benefit theirs.
"You're distracted," Suguru commented, peppering kisses across your collarbone while you stared at the window of what you supposed was previously Gojo's office.
"Just a little strange, I guess, everything moving so quickly," You absentmindedly replied, gasping when his canines scraped suddenly against the thin skin over your tendons.
"It'll settle down soon," He reassured, the hand on your back pulling you closer, readjusting your position on his lap.
You just weren't sure if you'd like what you'd find after the dust settled.
Someone knocked.
Quick and quiet, waiting for Suguru to call back out before coming in. You recognized the man, Nanami, the same one from the first day you arrived, but the most you'd seen him since was nose-deep in paperwork, always someplace to be and something to do.
"My apologies for interrupting," He stoically delivered the words, deliberately avoiding addressing Suguru since his title had yet to be changed.
The coronation wasn't scheduled until after your marriage.
"It's fine," Suguru murmured, dismissively waving his other hand while the other discreetly slipped lower down to your thigh.
"Do you have the documentation and ledgers for the trial?" Nanami asked, removing his glasses and cleaning the lenses off on his clean and tidy shirt, pushing them back up his nose with a bored expression.
"Sure," Suguru muttered, pulling out a drawer to grab a short stack of papers, all bearing the same name.
Satoru Gojo.
"Evidence of him purchasing the herbs he used on his father," Suguru tsk-ed, sliding them across the desk to Nanami.
Your stomach churned. There was just one small problem.
The signature was one you recognized well. You spent years memorizing it after all.
So you could say for certain it didn't match the only note the real Satoru Gojo had ever left you.
ᡴꪫ
The dungeon was cold, the stone floor freezing as you hurried to pad over as silently as you could to the cell at the end. You guessed you only had about five minutes before the guards would return from the change in rotation.
Iron-wrought bars stretched from the floor to the ceiling, only a small window allowing a sliver of moonlight in, a cruel reminder of the outside he couldn't reach.
This was an awful idea.
One you might even be risking your life for.
But wasn't Gojo's on the line already?
"Am I lucky enough to get a good night kiss, angel? Or is it goodbye?" Gojo wryly teased once he saw you through the dark, his sense of humor unfortunately still in tact. It was bitter, the sound of a man that'd been betrayed.
"Quiet," You hissed, glancing over your shoulder down the corridor. "I'm not supposed to be here."
Suguru might be looking for you already.
You'd excused yourself from dinner early, feigning a headache and pretending to sleep through the three different maids periodically peeking in to check on you before you guessed he believed you really did feel ill. But who knows if he'd still send another? Suguru was the only person more paranoid than you.
It was getting increasingly more difficult to act normal around him. What if you were apart of some plan or next on his list?
He clearly had no problems deceiving you.
Honestly, the longer you thought about it, the more you found wrong with him. How he'd taken over Gojo's life so seamlessly. How convenient it was for him to find you right on time to make his grand entrance. How rumors had started spreading that he'd taken Mei Mei's tongue just so she couldn't even confirm if he had any part in the scheme.
"Yeah?" Gojo chuckled, softer now, pushing off the grimy ground to stand, his hands still cuffed and a heavy collar around his throat chained to the wall. Not even afforded the smallest freedom here. They knew he wasn't going to escape. It was about humiliating him. Shrinking him down to some humble size. He managed to take a few steps closer, stopping just short of the bars between you. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company then?"
"Are they feeding you?" You whispered.
"Occasionally."
You tugged out the loaf hidden inside your cloak, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you hesitantly stuck your hand through the slats, stretching your arm so the tip was grazing against his lips. You had to sneak into the kitchen to steal it, a few candies you'd been saving also tucked into your pocket.
"You must be hungry then," You mumbled, refusing to meet his eye as he took the first few nibbles.
"Why'd you come?" He grunted through hungry bites, and you could feel the way those brilliant eyes sized you up, refusing to dull even after who knows how long without food.
They were treating him like a feral mutt, something that'd snap his jaws around your throat if released. But he looked more like a puppy like this, tilting his head the side and eating out of your hand. If only his collar was lined with gems instead of made from heavy metal.
"You didn't do any of it, did you?" You asked, even if just forming the words felt like a betrayal to Suguru.
"My only crime was trusting my, ah, your friend," He corrected himself with a huff, like his attitude could hide how much he was hurting. Bruises littered his face, his fancy outfit filthy. "Or is he your fiancé now?"
You didn't answer, but his eyes flickered down the the engagement ring perched on your finger.
He made a noise, half a grunt and half a laugh.
"Of course."
"I don't think I have much choice in the matter," You excused. You hadn't wanted to believe that at first, but the past couple days had you considering how much of your control was just a carefully crafted illusion.
What would Suguru have done if you said no to him? If you insisted on going back home?
You swallowed hard, meeting Gojo's sharp stare, squinting at you with more sadness than suspicion.
"You should leave," He finally said, as if he was telling you to take the last life jacket on a sinking ship. Trying to convince you to save yourself.
"I have a duty," You murmured, unsure of what it even meant anymore. Raised to rule correctly, to be just and fair in all matters. To put everyone else before yourself.
It wasn't a risk of Suguru retaliating if he discovered your deception - it would be a reality. For all you knew, you could be locked up right next to Gojo just for being here.
But for some stupid reason, you just couldn't let this go.
Couldn't stay silent while Suguru condemned him to death or a miserable life locked in a cage.
"You don't. Not to me," Gojo frowned, ignoring the rest of the bread. Freeing you from the burden of his fate. "So go. Get as far away from him as possible."
You wished you could.
"I'm going to get you out of here," You promised, hating yourself for giving him hope you were hardly confident in. You tucked the bread back under your arm, snagging one of the sweet candies from your pocket and unwrapping the shiny gold paper.
"I won't hold you to that," He chuckled, his voice raspy.
The man you thought he was didn't exist anymore. Maybe never had.
Even here, he was hellbent on making you second guess and get stuck on every word that left his lips.
So you pressed the candy to them instead and they partied for you naturally, letting you place the drop on his tongue. His lips were probably soft before, now cracked as they grazed over your fingertips.
Funny how it felt like a kiss.
Funnier how you were thinking about it still sneaking back into bed an hour later, carefully hanging your coat back up and hiding the last of the bread to discard later.
You had to come up with an excuse to scribble on a note to Suguru the next morning, claiming to need a few final addresses for wedding invitations to approach the one man you suspected could assist you.
He certainly hadn't expected you, the only evidence you had hidden in your dress when you stepped into his office.
"I need your help."
✧
Your promise lingered in his brain like the taste of candy on his tongue.
Really, you owed him nothing. No kindness. No assistance.
You were risking everything. Your kingdom, your chance at being Empress, even your own life just to help him.
The fact you didn't expect anything from him made it worse.
No debt you wanted him to owe or reward to be received.
Was that what the duty you spoke of was? To do the right thing at the cost of yourself? Why were you so willing to pay it?
Waiting in the dark and the grime with no distractions. His only company the guard dropping by once in the morning to release his cuffs and offer his lone meal for the day and the second one in the evenings coming back to bind his hands again.
They never removed the collar.
All the old wounds of people passing ripped open again. The harsh truth of being left and only that had scarred over his heart split open and needing new stitches.
He understood why Geto did it. For the power. The control. Having the world at his whim and word.
Gojo just didn't understand how he could do it to him.
Geto had helped him plan the funerals, easing the burden and bringing him food when he forgot to eat, promising to handle the paperwork and take some of the pressure off of him. Knowing damn well what really happened.
Now he was mourning all the lives lost - including his own.
The pale light from the window cut into the stone to mark the passage of time, but it only reminded him of his miserable conditions more.
The barren cot and blank walls, the toilet in the corner for him to use. Nothing to compare to his lavish bedroom just a few floors away.
Was Geto using the suite now? Taking you to his bed, your plush thighs pushed to your chest and your dress discarded on the thick rug or wooden floor somewhere? Hair splayed out across the silk sheets as your head tilted back on his pillows, letting out some lewd moan?
God, he'd rather just get executed now if that was the case.
Days passed without your return, occupied only by the thought of your face, the way you smiled at him, just that once, the crinkle by your eyes when you laughed after you stepped on his toes.
Another morning had come.
Today's guard was particularly smug, a crude grin on his scarred face when he barked orders at him to turn around so he could remove his cuffs.
Except, the second the heavy weight fell away, his left ring finger was grabbed, and in two short seconds crushed, a sick snap echoing in the small chamber. A gutteral sound escaped Gojo, strangled and pained.
"Big day," The guard mocked, letting go and walking away without another word.
For a second, he wondered if this was it. If they had bypassed a trial entirely and he'd been sentenced to his death without a second thought. But then he looked down at his hand, clutching his broken finger as he bitterly realized what the brute was hinting at.
He didn't want to believe it.
But the movement over his head, the busy bodies and voices filtering through the ceiling from the floor only reinforced the idea.
A royal wedding.
Geto was going to marry you.
Take his place in every way possible.
Tighten your leash too, pin your fate to his to prevent you from coming to Gojo's rescue.
The hope he'd been holding onto had faded, only left with the heartache of knowing he was stuck. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go.
Trapped in a stone tomb.
He wasn't sure how long he stood. Lead limbed and broken in more places he could count. But the ache in his heart was all you.
Trying to imagine what how you felt. If you were wearing a white dress. How a tiara would look sitting pretty nestled on top of your hair. Or maybe a custom crown made to match the one he used to wear.
If he was granted a final wish, he hoped it'd be your forgiveness, or maybe that goodbye kiss.
Footsteps approached, and he wondered if the guard had come back to break another finger. And honestly, he was thinking about just letting him if it meant his mind would be torn away from thinking about you.
But the man in front of him removed his polished silver helmet to reveal the last person he expected.
Who would've guessed Nanami would be his knight in shining armor?
"Shut up," The blond preemptively scoffed before Gojo could get a joke out, key in hand as he hurried to unlock the heavy door, careful to push it open slowly so it wouldn't creak.
"Where is she?" Gojo hoarsely asked, throat sore and aching from the limited water he'd been living on lately.
"Getting married," Nanami muttered, brows drawn together in a deep scowl as he flipped through his keys for the right one to unlock the collar around Gojo's throat, the skin rough and raw when he finally yanked it off.
"Over my dead body," Gojo gritted his teeth, as Nanami removed his armor as quickly as possible, passing him pieces for him to quickly get dressed in. A clever disguise to get out of here unnoticed.
"Geto would certainly prefer that," Nanami sarcastically sighed as Gojo tugged on the silver helmet at the end.
"What's the plan?" Gojo asked, out-of-breath already, his body not used to the exertion.
"Remind the people who their real emperor is," His former secretary tsk-ed, as if it should be obvious to him. "I'll handle the proof."
Sneaking out was easier than he expected, the guard that was supposed to on-duty passed out drunk when they walked by. Gojo guessed Nanami had somehow slipped sleeping pills in his bottle.
Gojo stole his sword and sheath as he stepped over him.
His finger ached, swelling up under his glove. But he gripped the handle tighter, refusing to switch it to the other hand if not for his own proof of the pain Geto so casually inflicted.
He only sheathed it after Nanami brought up it might blow their cover.
Nanami led him through corridors he hadn't even been in before, back hallways that connected and bypassed the heavily-traveled ones, but the chatter kept growing closer as they approached the ceremony hall.
Were you already in there? Had you walked down the aisle? Was Geto's hand in yours just waiting for you to say your vows? To bind your soul to his?
"Can you walk faster?" Gojo impatiently huffed, jaw clenched.
What if they didn't make it in time?
What if-?
They made it to the an open door, Nanami giving the guard by the side entrance a curt nod as they found a gap just big enough in the knight's scattered formation for them not to stand out.
The priest was going on a long drone about commitment, consideration, the connection between hearts in love. Gojo wasn't sure if Geto even had a heart anymore.
His sharp blue eyes focused on you, drowning in your wedding dress, the corset cinched too tight on purpose to push your chest up, the skirt a ridiculous pouf of fabric below the waist, covered in a shimmery fabric that glittered every time you moved.
Something to distract the crowd from noticing your face, your forced smile painted pink and the eyeliner and mascara smudged around your tear line like you'd been crying.
You were still the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen, his chest straining and heart jumping into his throat to choke up his breathing.
"If anyone objects to this union, speak-"
"I object," Gojo stepped forward without a second thought, his focus solely on you, watching your eyes widen the second they met his.
"Satoru," You breathed his name, shaky and sincere and hopeful.
"How the fuck is he here?" Geto hissed to the closet knight, stepping in front of you to block your body from his sight.
You pulled away from him, trying to rush past him but his arm caught you by your waist, pulling you back into his chest. Gojo was moving forward on instinct, panic surging through him at the sight of Geto putting his hands on you, only hesitating to draw the sword in case he might hurt you. But you hurt Geto first, elbowing him just hard enough to catch him by surprise and slipping away before he could catch you again.
Your heels were giving you trouble, nearly stumbling as you tried to slip between the confused crowd, already whispering between themselves as the slow realization started to set in at who was under the helmet.
Gojo met you halfway, a hand protectively pulling you up, but you were clinging to his armor the second you were close enough.
Whatever happened, you were in this together.
Gojo took off his helmet, tossing it to the ground, a collective gasp breaking out at the disgraced former emperor wedding crashing.
"You murdered my family, framed me, and now what? Trying to marry my lady?" You would probably slap him for that last line later, but it made the impression he wanted in the audience, redirecting all the suspicious stares back to the man left at the alter.
"You're pathetic," Geto cooly dismissed, glancing back to the knights guarding the doors he'd just came in through. "Seize him. Careful with the princess, it looks like the former emperor has used some kind of witchcraft to convince her of his lies."
Feeding into the hysteria of magic and conspiracy with a slimy lie, coming up with whatever excuse he needed to get Gojo back in jail and you back under his thumb.
But Nanami stepped out of the shadows, pulling out a stack of papers and a slip of a note.
The knights approaching hesitated, unsure if they should really follow Geto's command. Nanami was intimidating in a different sort of way - commandeering a certain respect an authority without trying.
"Arrest the Duke. More evidence has surfaced to suggest he's the suspect behind the crimes we're currently investigating," He somberly instructed, gesturing to Geto. "The signatures on the documents he provided were forgeries."
"You know me," Geto called out to you, not really a plea, but like he wanted you to understand. Like he wanted you to think this was for you.
"I don't think so," You swallowed hard, and you were physically shaking next to him.
"He's not what you need," Geto's voice was harder this time, shrugging off the few knights that had dared to approach him.
It happened in just a few seconds.
His former best friend stealing a sword from the closest knight, the silver catching the sunlight streaming in from the grand stained windows, and then coming down swiftly.
Gojo was just faster.
Stepping in front to shield you, drawing the sword and meeting Geto's with a loud clash. The crowd was scattering back, a few surprised shouts and screams echoing in the large hall.
His muscles screamed at the extension, underworked and starved for weeks. But the idea of losing was inconceivable.
Geto had already embarrassed him enough in front of you.
The second swipe of Geto's sword nearly landed, narrowly avoiding getting skewered at the last second, pushing you back enough to land in an annoyed Nanami's arms.
Gojo sucked in a sharp breath, steadying himself and getting ready to strike just for something to smack Geto in the face, a heel clattering to the floor by his feet.
You had thrown your fucking shoe at him.
Gojo seized the opportunity, the single second Geto was still stunned to knock his sword hard enough to send it skittering to the floor out of reach.
The knights hurried to grab him, no handcuffs prepared this time, one taking each arm as they took Nanami's word for it.
Geto didn't say anything.
No big proclamation or sudden profession. Just held his stare, not sorry in the slightest as they lead him down the same path Gojo walked a month before. Down to the recesses of the dungeon.
His only regret was probably not covering his tracks properly.
Thinking you were the type of girl who cared about wearing the crown in the first place.
Gojo wasn't sure which domino fell next.
Tossing his sword. The people surrounding him. The cheers. Crying that they'd never believed the lies as if he hadn't been there when they stayed silent.
But it was still his people. The ones he'd been born to protect and serve until his last breath.
He tried to smile, wave his hand that every swivel of his wrist didn't send sharp pains up to his broken finger, laughed and grinned like he was happy to be back.
But when he turned, he only caught a glimpse of your dress, the glitter of it and your hobble as you hurried into the hall.
It seemed chasing after you had become second nature.
"Wait," He called out, forcing his way between people, rushing to get to you before you could disappear out of sight.
He could've grabbed your hand again, but simply?
Gojo was too excited.
Once you were withing reach, he was grabbing you and pulling you into an almost crushing hug, squeezing your waist and burying his face into your hair.
"Thank you," He murmured, sharp nose nuzzling against your neck without meaning to, mostly just trying to stop himself from sniffling.
He half expected you to shove him off, to scoff and dismiss it as your duty again.
Bur you hugged him back, arms tentatively wrapping around him.
"You smell awful."
ᡴꪫ
His bath, however, smelled like sugar and roses.
You shouldn't know that. Yet, you stayed anyway.
Let Gojo lead you back to his chambers, insisting he needed the company and didn't want anyone else. You just didn't want to admit you didn't want to leave him either.
A maid delivered fresh clothes at his request, laying them out neatly on the bed after promising to be discreet when all three of you knew the rest of the palace would know by the end of the day.
He unlaced your wedding dress for you, a nervous flutter in your stomach at how nimbly he freed you from the too-tight corset. You still shoved him in the bathroom so you could finish stripping, a heap of shimmering fabric left on the floor as you traded it in for an almost as embarrassing gown that looked more like lingerie.
Anxious, you knocked on the door to the bathroom, leaning in to listen to the sound of running water.
"I'm finished, um, Gojo?" You weren't sure what to call him now. He would have to be coronated after getting stripped from his role. Did that make him a prince again?
"I like it when you call me Satoru," He hummed inside.
"Well, Satoru, should I fetch food, or perhaps a doctor for you?" You chewed on the inside of your lap, looking around for something to cover yourself up if you were going to leave the room.
Everything was rich and warm in here, funny little glass animals on shelves and expensive tapestries on the wall. His huge four poster bed carved with intricate woodwork, silk sheets and luxurious blankets spread over it. Well-worn and well-loved.
What would your life be like, you wondered, if it'd always been him from the start?
"Could you come in first? I can't reach the soap," He called out.
You pushed the door open, peeking inside shyly to find him already submerged in the tub, water up to his chest and bubbles concealing everything underneath. He shut off the faucet, another reminder of just how wealthy he was to have one of the few rooms with heated water in the whole estate.
His head was reclined back on the porcelain rim of the tub, white hair freshly washed. His face still had a few flecks of dirt on it, his cheeks and jaw far sharper than they'd been a few weeks ago, and still, he was so handsome it hurt. But it was the raw skin where the collar had rested that caught your attention, the once smooth complexion pink and irritated.
He turned to look over, cracking open a single eye just to freeze and immediately open both when he saw what you were wearing. Another day you probably would've laughed at how hard the lump in his throat bobbed before he tried to pull his charming mask back on.
"Are you just going to stare?" He teased, throwing a frustratingly cute lopsided smirk over at you. "I don't mind, I mean, I'm flattered-"
"Does it hurt?" You blurted out, your hand returning to your own neck as if you could feel it. But that just reminded you of the engagement ring still on your finger, and you hurried to take it off, embarrassment pricking at it as you glanced at the diamonds glittering in your palm.
"I'm fine," Gojo said, soft now, blue eyes narrowed as he watched you with concern. "Are you?"
"Yeah."
Perhaps you were both just liars.
You left the engagement ring on the sink, half hoping it'd fall down the drain before grabbing the soap and the basket of washcloths from the wall. Getting down on your knees next to the bath and looking to him for permission he gave you with a surprised nod.
Damping a washcloth before scrubbing his smooth skin, weeks of grime washing off with a little work. He closed his eyes, letting you gently get him clean again, humming a song you'd never heard before.
He'd lifted his hand up, about to comb through his hair with his fingers when you noticed one crooked and swollen. A choked-up gasp escaped you, surprised at his injury.
"Hey, don't worry," He soothed, wiggling it even though it made him wince. "I'll get the doctor to set it when I get out, okay?"
You let him comfort you. Let him tell you stupid stories so you could remember what it felt like to laugh. Let him hold your hand and squeeze softly to remind you where you were.
It was nice.
This small comfort, this idea of intimacy where you didn't need to speak or ramble to know you were appreciated. The closeness in knowing he'd protect you - and you'd do the same for him.
Maybe he'd write you back when you left this time.
ᡴꪫ
Satoru insisted you stay another month.
You obliged him. You weren't even sure why. What would you have to go back to now anyway?
A family who never bothered to write now that you wouldn't be Empress? Wouldn't have a husband with the kind of power or connections they want?
Maybe you could find a quiet cottage somewhere warm - somewhere you'd just have a piece of land and a serene place to sleep. It sounded a little unfulfilling, a far cry from the dreams you once again deemed out-of-reach.
But you guessed it was better than being unwanted.
The world's most gracious host has given you a frankly absurd amount of gifts anyway, more dresses and jewelry than you could pack or even conceivably wear. If you sold enough, you could certainly scrounge up the funds you'd need for it.
He was too busy to notice, buried under a mountain of paperwork and planning to reinstate himself as emperor, juggling duties he'd previously neglected on top of settling the trail with Suguru. You hadn't seen the sentencing. Hadn't asked.
Only written out your testimony against him, claiming it'd be too much for you to be in the same room as him.
Satoru was quick to put his seal on that document, apparently as anxious as you were about you seeing Suguru again.
His finger was still crooked. Might be forever. You'd accompanied him to his last doctor's appointment where they'd suggested breaking it again to try setting it again. Gojo declined.
His throat had mostly healed, faint scars left that he'd been hiding under high collars or cloaks unless he was with you.
Gojo always stopped his paperwork to search for you at least once or twice a day, hunting you down in the library or gardens or convincing you to have to take a break and have tea with him.
No bugs this time.
He'd sneak into bed with you at night sometimes, too late for any nosy attendants to pay attention, rubbing his tired eyes and murmuring about nightmares before he clambered under the blankets next to you.
It was stupid to allow him in. When he made your heart stutter and stop every time he pulled you into his body in his sleep, stroking your hair softly and making promises under his breath.
You needed to move on.
The bond you had was rooted in something you weren't even sure was romantic. He hadn't tried to kiss you, although there had been a few times you thought he would. Nights where you'd be so close your noses would almost touch, mornings where you'd wake up in his arms.
Sometimes you considered just kissing him to know what it felt like. Just a single second to see what you'd spent so long dreaming about before you shelved it entirely.
But Gojo was preoccupied with his own dreams.
You woke up to an empty bed the morning of his second coronation ceremony, the scent of his soap and shampoo still on your pillow when you rolled over, tracing your fingers over the faint indent his body had left.
A note has been left on your nightstand, accompanied by a pretty white flower cutting of heliotrope, probably just picked because it was the same shade as his hair and swelled sweet. You still smiled, rubbing the corner of your eyes before reading the note.
See you later, S
You saved it. Changed clothes and slipped it into the pocket of your dress, something you were sure you'd have every inkblot memorized of by the time you were four hours away this afternoon.
And who knows?
Maybe you would see him again some day.
✧
His crown was once again perched on its proper place, gold and gems glittering on top of his moon-white hair.
The crowd cheered louder for his second coronation than they had for his first.
But the only face he hoped to find wasn't there. Showered with praises and poems, returned to his rightful status while he mourned the future he was meant to have before.
One where maybe he had the decency to open your first letter and replied his damn self. One where he'd married you and his best friend was the best man instead of stuck in the same cell he'd just spent a month in. Might've spent the rest of his life in if it wasn't for you.
Too busy missing the signs and making mistakes he would be paying for until he was buried.
He was terrified he'd made another one without realizing it.
You hadn't left yet, had you?
He slipped away from the party, not offering explanations or excuses to anyone who attempted to stop him, scratching his neck around the collar of the stupid fur cloak they'd insisted on dressing him in and hurrying through the hall until he found your room.
Gojo paused, holding his breath before twisting the knob, his stomach curling at the realization it was unlocked before he pushed it open.
The bed was neatly made, the balcony curtains drawn to let in the sun, light bathing the room that refused to warm his skin without you there. The note he'd left, the flower he handpicked for you, had both disappeared, taken too.
You were gone. He walked in, touching every surface like he was searching for some sign of you. There wasn't even a note.
He paused, glancing through one of the pretty stained glass windows overlooking the front garden, the cobbled path to the street packed with carriages outside.
And you.
Handing over a suitcase to the driver, glancing past your shoulder and shielding your eyes to look over the palace one last time.
His legs were moving for him, ripping open the balcony door and calling your name.
You didn't hear him.
He didn't bother judging the distance, or even looking down at the drop. It was only the second floor after all.
And then he was jumping over the railing, landing in a bush and losing his cloak in the process, branches and leaves getting stuck to his outfit as he scrambled to get free, his ankle aching as he broke into a jog to catch up to you. It was a miracle his crown hadn't fallen off. Sprinting down the street and shouting to you like he was fucking crazy, and he supposed he really might've lost it when he watched you climbing in to the carriage and the door shut behind you.
The driver saw him first, freezing and squinting at him before gawking the second he realized who this stranger was.
Already starting to bow his head before Gojo was begging him to wait, fumbling through an explanation that he needed to speak to you.
You must have heard something, the door opening back up and your cute face scrunching in confusion when you peeked out.
"Satoru?"
He couldn't let this be the last time you called him that.
Gojo wasn't sure what he was doing, didn't have a single fucking clue, really, but he was down on both knees before you could get another syllable out.
"Don't go," He murmured, a desperate plea shining in his eyes. "I just, I know I'm a mess and I've put you through enough, but fuck, I can't lose you, okay? I love you, and I-I need you, and you're just-"
"I'm what?" You asked, soft and surprisingly sincere when he half-expected you to shut the door on him while he rambled.
"You're too good for me," He confessed, blunt and broken in a way he didn't know if he'd be able to put back together on his own. "If I was a better man, I'd let you leave and never look back, but I'm selfish and stupid and-"
You grabbed him by his collar and tugged him inside the carriage, shutting the door behind him with a slam.
"I'm sor-" He started to apologize again just for you to huff and shut him up with a kiss.
There was nothing soft about it.
It was hard and hungry and heated, your hands on his face and your lips between his, the taste of mint lingering on them as he desperately kissed you back.
He was grabbing your waist, awkwardly maneuvering until you were straddling his lap, soft thighs spread over his sturdy ones, squeezing you every few seconds to make sure you were real and this wasn't some incredibly long dream he'd been having inside his cell still.
"Is this-" He stammered, barely breaking away just to breathe in your skin, the perfume on it and the smell of his soap on your body. "Are you sure?"
"Kiss me again and find out," You murmured, fingers tracing up over his collar one and getting tangled in his hair, careful not to mess up the crowd he'd forgotten he was still wearing.
His mouth found yours again, hungrily sucking on your bottom lip when your hips suddenly rolled down on the growing bulge barely concealed by his pants.
Gojo's fingers felt clumsy when he fumbled for his crown, taking it off just to delicately place it on your head between kisses, grinning at the way you pulled back just to giggle and smile at him.
"Oh?"
"It's yours," He promised. It wasn't much for a proposal, but he needed you to know he meant it. He'd give you the palace on a platter if you wanted it.
"I'll think about it," You teased.
And hey, that wasn't a no.
You tilted your head to the side, and he took that as permission to leave more proof of his affection down your throat, littering the skin with bites and sucks. You moaned, just barely audible at his teeth nipped at you, and his cock practically jumped, throbbing to be touched.
He felt his jaw stiffen, trying to hold himself back, kissing you softer to keep himself together.
"Satoru," You said his name, and it was only when your smile subtly curled up in time with his cock twitched again that he realized you knew what you were doing, knew what effect you had on him.
"Princess," He breathed, struggling not to stutter when you readjusted on his lap, your hips moving just right, the pressure and friction making his already hazy head more lost in you.
"Do you really want me?" You asked, blinking a few times, lashes fluttering and eyes begging him to say yes. Offering him a vulnerable sliver of yourself.
"More than I've ever wanted anything," He answered truthfully.
"Then take me," You shrugged, maybe to make the moment feel smaller, like it was something you could contain.
He kissed you again, starving every second his lips weren't on you.
"Not here," He murmured.
You huffed at him, letting your canines graze a little too harsh against his bottom lip, but he couldn't help but hope you'd bite, leave his lip bruised and swollen so everyone could see your claim on him.
"Where then?"
He had you splayed out in his bed twenty minutes later, carrying you over his shoulder like a piece of game or grand trophy he'd won, ignoring the cheers and congratulations of staff members he passed by and the flustered few who tried to shout at him to return to the after-party. You were giggling the whole way there, keeping the crown on your head with one hand.
Gojo took his time peeling off every layer you were reveling in the softness of your skin and the shape of your body, tracing over the dimples and curves, holding his breath when he finally pulled your panties down your thighs.
"Are you just going to stare?" You mimicked him, but he could see the uncertainty in your own face, nervousness betraying you.
"I've never, um, y'know," He awkwardly began to admit, but he was sure his touch made it obvious, the tender way he skimmed over your breasts instead of immediately groping them.
"Had sex?" You scrunched your face up, like you really never guessed.
"Yeah," He muttered, still fumbling for the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off and discarding it on the floor by your dress. "Have you?"
"No," You shook your head, biting down on the inside of your cheek, a little embarrassed yourself. "I've done, other stuff but um, never this."
"Just tell me if it's too much," He murmured, getting out of bed to stand and properly take his own pants off. The way you watched him made him self-conscious, aware of the scars and his body still too lean for his liking. He'd resumed morning workouts and eating as much as he could to makeup for the days and weeks stuck in a cell, but he'd been in a better shape before.
"You're so attractive it's annoying," You confessed with a soft sigh, your eyes trailing down to the v of his hips, lingering on this pink and aching cock beneath the thick patch of his happy trail.
"You think so?" He hm-ed, not realizing his badly he needed the reassurance.
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. Now come here," You impatiently teased, just as needy as him.
He climbed back in bed, but he laid down next to you, pulling you up on his chest so your back as reclining on him, one hand slipping between your thighs while the other found your breast, toying with the nipple while he dipped two fingers inside your entrance.
Slick and soaked just for him.
"W-what are you-" Your voice broke, shattered like glass as you suddenly gasped when he pushed past that first tight ring of resistance, your walls clenching around his fingers.
"That feel good?" He hummed in your ear, lips grazing against the shell of it when you shivered under his touch, twitching when he rolled his thumb over your nipple.
"Mm, mhm," You nodded, craning your neck up to make eye contact with him, your stare glossy, full of something he hoped was love rather than just lust or longing.
Pumping his fingers faster, crooking them in deeper just to watch the way your lips parted with pleas of his name, studying the shape of your mouth when it formed the syllables.
His cock was painfully hard, throbbing with every moan, desperate for some release stuck between your back and his abs, barely able to keep his hips from bucking up.
He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to last more than two seconds when he was actually inside you.
So he tried to focus on your pleasure, stretching you open with a third finger, barely able to slot it in, watching the tears prick at your lashes.
"P-please, S'toru, need you," You whined, shuddering and moaning when his thumb ghosted over your clit.
He had you flat on the mattress in two seconds.
Back arching off the bed, his hands on your hip to hold you up while he pressed the tip of his leaking cock to your entrance. You gasped, silently nodding at him to put it in.
"Fuck, my pretty lady needs me?" He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he used every last drop of self-control in his body to ease his way in, watching inch by inch of his thick cock disappear into your warmth, veins pulsing as you sucked him in.
He felt like he might pass out.
Seeing the way your body connected with his, feeling your hips under his hand, the way you melted into a puddle in his palm, peering up at him the same way he'd pictured in his head so many times.
You made a sound, trying to speak and stuffed too full to get the words out.
And fuck, he was right there with you when he bottomed out, tip pressing into what he guessed was your womb, pleasure burning through him in hot flashes.
"I love you," He groaned, leaning down to kiss you, his cock throbbing when he refused to move, refused to budge, showering your face in kisses while you wrapped your wrists behind his neck and crossed your legs behind his back.
The closeness of all of it was too much.
You felt like his.
"Promise me," You murmured, inhaling hard between heated kisses.
"I promise," He easily repeated, pulling out his cock and pushing back in for the first unsure trust your chest rising and falling like he'd knocked the breath out of you. "Forever."
"Even if the next life?" You lightened up, your teasing once again turning into a whine when he buried himself down to the hilt inside you.
"Every life."
He made sure to fuck you like it.
Demanding thrusts, claiming you inside and out, his cock pumping in-and-out, his grip bruising on your hips and his lips leaving hickies all over your neck. Drawing moan after moan from your mouth, flipping you onto your stomach to keep going, pushing your back into that pretty arch for him and splitting you open on his cock with borderline mean pumps.
"Mine," He muttered, trailing kisses back up your spine to the nape of your neck, brushing the hair away and groaning at how hard you squeezed him, trying to milk him for all he had. "Tryin' to make me cum, princess?"
"M-maybe," You huffed. Your voice was a broken whisper, strained from the strangled noises he kept ripping from you.
The heat in his chest was building, skin damp with and loose strands of hair stuck to his forehead as his muscles burned and tensed.
He slipped a hand underneath your body, finding your clit and rolling it between two fingers, your body shuddering, pressure building in your own stomach at the friction.
"Breathe, baby," He teased, and you tried, your cries muffled into the mattress when you unraveled beneath him, cumming hard right as his own tension snapped, abs briefly pulling taut as he painted your insides white.
Cum leaking down your thighs by the time he pulled out, mesmerized by the way it slowly dripped down onto his silk sheets. His tip was still swollen, resting on your ass and dripping more as he sucked in a sharp breath, tracing over your skin with adoration before pushing his cum back inside you just to hear the filthy squelch.
"Did so good f'me, princess," He praised, not quite able to steady his breathing still as you rolled over to face him, your own chest heaving.
"Just princess?" You hummed, limbs weak and exhausted as you grabbed his hand and tugged him on top of you.
"Would you say yes if I asked you to be my Empress?" He asked, running his thumb over your lip before leaning down to get another taste of you.
"Perhaps," You smiled, soft and sweet and everything he'd been dreaming about for months.
And the idea of it being his, of you smiling at him like that every day, was irresistible and intoxicating and absolutely addicting. Imagining you with him all the time, in his office and on his throne, waddling around with his baby in your belly or cradling an infant in your arms, he wanted all of it.
The good days and the bad, every broken and bent piece of you and all the best ones too.
Truly the luckiest man on earth just to exist in your warmth for however many moments you allowed.
"Hey, baby?" He yawned, leaning down to rest his head against your collarbone while your soft palms slid up his back.
the cute emo boy from your college is completely enamored with you and your pretty outfits, so when he hears you and your shitty boyfriend finally broke up, he wastes no time in planning how to make you his.
pairing ˎˊ˗ emo! choso x girly! reader
BEFORE PROCEEDING this fic will include fem! reader, MDNI 18+, this will be a bit angsty, yuki is ooc here, cheating, miscommunication, friends to lovers, inappropriate use of drumsticks ( as in the instrumental tool ) , blowjobs, pussy eating, hair pulling, subby choso, he has a prince albert, yes he will whimper, fluff, tba… art by @/vah_arina
Club rush could count as Choso's favorite holiday. If it was a holiday.
What better way to kick off the school year other than joining the one and only music club that he's been leading for the past 2 years, right? Incoming freshmen or returning students could bond over instruments and emo culture.
"Yo, pass me that vinyl." Suguru pointed to the protected record. The table had been set up with music ranging from "Brand New Eyes" to "Pretty. Odd."
Choso handed it over to his friend carefully, watching as he sat it carefully up. Other students were putting up their booths as well. Some were under canopy tents to protect them from the summer sun.
"I'm fucking sweating like a pig." Choso rasped out, pinning his neck length hair up in two buns. "Told ya we should've bought a canopy."
"With what money, dude." Suguru took a step back, admiring their set up. "Where's Sukuna? He was supposed to print out the flyers an hour ago."
Just on cue, the pink haired boy reached the other two, papers in hand. "Got 'em." He held the papers up.
"How many did you print out?" Choso grabbed them from Sukuna's hand, seeing how the design came out.
"Couple dozen. When does this shit start? I got to pick up my brother from school today."
"Ain't he in high school? He can go on the bus." Suguru snatched a flyer from Choso's hand. "You didn't get them in color?!"
Sukuna frowned, slipping his box of cigarettes in his back pocket. "Hell nah. It was like a dollar extra."
"It's whatever," Choso interrupted. The last he needed was his two bandmates getting into an argument. "People are starting to come." Soon enough, a crowd began to form around the quad, students visiting the booths of interest.
You walked around with you low heels clicking on the ground. Definitely not the best choice of attire but it was you. A vintage Von Dutch purse was sat right on your shoulder, swinging with every step.
"Whatever happened to the fashion club?" You asked between chewing your bubble gum. Shoko lifted her head from her phone, confused at your question. "Girl, you made them disband. Remember?"
You let out an 'ohhh' as if you found out mind blowing news.
"Not my fault they were so poorly uneducated on Vivienne Westwood. Did they seriously have the audacity to ignore the fact that she was punk? What the hell were they on about saying that the brand was for clean girlies? Ummm hellooooo?" You raised a brow that was recently threaded.
"Right.. anyways." Shoko looked around, eyes setting on the medical club. "I'll be right back, I have to go sign up."
You nodded, blowing a goodbye kiss.
There weren't any new organizations this year that you know of other than the one your ex boyfriend was apart of. The sight of him just made you want to role your eyes.
The asshole had broken up with you over text and is going around saying you were the one who broke up with him.
Like, who the hell even does that?
You pushed yourself deeper into the crowd, making your way towards the heart of the quad.
"Music club is over here guys!" Choso yelled out as he handed people flyers. "We will be meeting on the second Monday of every month. Feel free to recommend us to your friends!"
Usually, you'd ignore anything that has to do with music. Not your forte.
But the washed out print on his shirt caught your eye.
A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.
That's the album you listened to non stop in your high school years. Your iPod was full with every version of it. The original, the demos, and even Live in Denver.
You listened to it so ofter that it burned onto the screen.
"Cool shirt." The words slipped from your mouth, surprising both you and Choso.
Because no way was a girl like you complimenting a boy like him. And over his shirt out of all things. "Uh, thanks." He stuttered, a crooked smile creeping on his lips.
He darted down to the papers in his hands, offering one to you.
You hesitated before accepting it. "Music club?"
Choso nodded. "Yeah, we mostly focus on emo music to be honest but we're always open to do other genres." God was he sweating? It felt like he was. Have you noticed? "You a Panic fan?"
You hummed, skimming through the small summary of the club. "Not really, just of that album. Well not anymore but high school me."
"No way. I mean, um, you have a favorite song?"
"I guess I liked Camisado."
"Oh shit, I love that one." Choso's eyes brightened. "You know the story behind it?"
You snorted. "Duh."
The way you spoke was soft and pretty to him, it made his heart beat like a teenagers.
"I'm Choso.." He mumbled.
"Hi Choso." You smiled up at him, exchanging your name as well. "I'll try and come."
He nodded, gulping. "We'll see you then.." His eyes stayed on your frame as you disappeared almost in a trance at the sway of your hips. "Suguru." He hit his friends' chest. "Fuck did you see that?"
"See what?"
"The goddess that just came up to me."
"Is the heat getting to you man?" Suguru pressed his hand on Choso's forehead, feeling the thin layer of sweat before hurling away in disgust.
"Surprised you didn't scare her away."
Choso smacked his shoulder playfully, returning back to distributing the flyers like the local newspaper. That dorky smile still evident on his face.
That was yesterday though.
And Choso hasn't shut up about you since.
"Do you think she'll actually show up to the meetings?" He ran the brush through his hair, undoing any knots made while sleeping. His broad chest was bare, showcasing all his tattoos. And not to mention the nipple piercings.
Sukuna groaned along with Suguru. "Bro, let it go already. Just cause she spoke to you for less than a minute-"
"It was over a minute, actually." Choso corrected.
"It doesn't matter. No offense man, but you're not her type. She dated Toji and they recently broke up. Doubt that she's already trying to get into another relationship."
Suguru yawned, standing up to grab another beer from the mini fridge.
"But ay, maybe you can change her."
A sigh fell from Choso's lips, feeling all of a sudden unmotivated. "She's so pretty."
"What would you even do if she did end up showing up? Woo her with your guitar skills?"
Choso paused.
"I mean.. yeah?"
Another collective groan escaped from the other two.
sukuna was tired of the bitchy girls he always had to deal with — wether they were from a one night stand or a girl that got hooked from his flirty antics, it always ends the same way — he rejects them and they run off to start rumors.
so yeah, he was done with girls. okay,maybe not completely, he still had some late night fucks after a party, but not without making clear that's where it ends. but other than that, he basically quit the game.
imagine his surprise when he fell in love with a stranger not even a week after that. yes, you heard that right, he the playboy himself fell in love. no less than with a girl he didn't even know before.
it wasn't an extraordinary day or night, just their usual frat parties where half the campus would come to drink or make out with someone. except this time, his eyes landed on a woman who couldn't look more out of place — even while being dressed up all pretty, a look on her face like she couldn't wait to get back home.
if someone told him that not even ten minutes after spotting you, he would have a conversation about how he had the perfect nipple atonomy for piercings, he would laugh or look at them like they were crazy. except this time, he's not laughing.
"i'm serious, have you never thought about it? they are like the perfect size and color." he's unsure how to respond — he's not even sure if he should answer at all.
"...no? i mean maybe? like one or two times." his usual confident, flirty voice falters, like it's the first time a girl talks to him without showering him in compliments. like he's expecting you to laugh it off and tell him you're joking.
well, you're not. "you probably should, dude. but don't let the same piercer as the one who did your eyebrow piercing do it. it's really off center." sukuna takes in second to replay your words in his head, and when they finally connect, he looks like he aged ten years.
"excuse me?"
you don't seem to notice his passive aggressive tone, or you just blatantly chose to ignore it. "yeah it should be way over here. yours almost looks like an centered one." you apparently also don't notice the way he genuinly flinches when you reach to point with your finger at the right placement.
he doesn't even try to look or understand where you're poking him — he's just looking at you with a dumbfounded expression. and god knows why, he felt fucking butterflies in his stomach, a warm feeling spreading in his chest.
there's just no way he, out of all people is feeling a spark because a girl is criticising his uneven piercing. he pushes the thoughts aside and a small smirk forms on his lips. "you know, that's not how i thought the conversation was gonna go."
and bless your heart, because you genuinly have no idea what's strange about this conversation. "oh, i'm sorry, did you want to talk about something else?" you sound extremly worried all of a sudden, like you didn't mean to hurt his feelings.
your strange personality doesn't seem to shy away the man infront of you — no, he's even more intrigued now. "how come i don't know the name of such a pretty girl?" it's supposed to be flirty, but sukuna should probaly have known better.
"that's probably because we never talked before. usually people tell you their name when you meet for the first time. otherwise people may think you're stalking them because that's kinda creepy knowing someone's name without asking y'know. but i know you're sukuna, not because im some weirdo who's stalking you it's just you're known as the community dick no offense intended."
the more you ramble on the more sukuna looks like any hope he had to take you to his room left his eyes. he probably should've known you wouldn't take the hint — definetly his fault. after a second of processing your speech his eyebrows shoot up in a mix of confusion and offense?
"...community dick?" his mouth open and closes like he wants to add something to his queestion but he has no idea what to say. the worried look on your face returns for the second time this evening, realising you're talking before thinking.
"no, yes, kind of? there's like nothing wrong if you like pleasuring women , actually that's like really nice of you, it's kinda empowering y'know like feminist and all."
any sign of seriousness leaves his expression and a rare sight for the fratking — a genuine laugh escaping him at your poor attempt of sweet talking yourslef out of calling him a slut.
there aren't many moments where sukuna actually really laughs when talking to girls — a charming smile being all it takes for most to drop their panties.however, it seemed like you had no interest in dropping anything at all.
except for your drink.
right on his bare chest.
it was an accident — truly, someone shoved you off balance and your drink spilled right on his abs, the sudden cold liquid making him hiss at the contact.
his eyes look down at his muscles seeing them drenched in a sticky substance, the alcohol making it's way down to wet his pants.
you gasp, hand covering your mouth. "oh my god — i'm so sorry. there are like no napkins anywhere near— wait i have an idea." he's about to tell you it's no big deal, he was shirtless after all — he could just jump into the pool or whatever but he stops dead in his tracks when you bend down.
right until you're face to face with his stomach.
he's about to ask you what you're doing — but freezes instead the moment your tongue darts out to lick the drink. "wh-what are you doing?" he sounds genuinely at a loss of words. you only answer after making sure no liquid would have time to go under his pants. "all good! your pants are totally save now no worries."
well he is worried — just not about his pants, but the boner he hopes you won't notice. he's unsure if this was supposed to be some kind of seducing tactic — but looking at your innocent expression he discards that idea. you really had just licked a man who you met ten minutes ago and looked like you had no idea how it looked to anyone watching.
there's a rare pink tint at the tips of his ears and he opens his mouth to say anything — but closes it once he realises he has no clue what to say. he also really doesn't know if he should feel as turned on as he is.
"thank you..?" it comes out like a question, like he's unsure if he should be thanking you. you're either ignoring his bewildered expression or you just don't even notice it at all.
"you're welcome. no prob." there's a moment of silence, neither of you knowing what to say until he breaks it.
"so is there a chance i can get your number?" to make sure you understand where he's going with this he adds, " romantically."
yeah he may have not thought the evening would turn out like this, but who is he to complain if his girl got a lil kick to her? after all — he still bagged the number.
5 times sukuna was heavily yearning + 1 time you finally noticed.
oblivious, lonely reader who’s used to doing things alone x downbad!sukuna. jealous!sukuna. gn!reader. reader wears glasses. uncle!sukuna. sukuna calls reader angel. he’s so down bad bro. ooc sukuna as usual. mentions of nsfw contents.
— ☆ —
1. movie nights.
you had a specific, detailed, high maintenance routine for watching movies. you had slowly perfected the process— a mental to do list popping up every time a new movie dropped that you needed to watch.
first, you needed to be in your designated ‘movie night pajamas’, the most comfortable you owned. your favorite blanket had to be there, along with your favorite pillow for support. you liked watching in your home more than cinemas, because you disliked the idea of not being able to pause the movie for whatever reason. who decided to make bathroom breaks that short, anyways?
for snacks, chips poured into your favorite bowl, your favorite niche flavor. a chocolate bar sat beside it just incase the movie got intense enough for you to crave it. your favorite drink was set beside them in a thermal cup, allowing you to drink it as slow as possible without it melting too quickly.
your phone had to be on dnd, blocking out every notification. the room had to be cold, and you avoided any distractions because pausing the movie on piracy websites meant three minutes of closing ads to turn it back on.
tonight, everything was perfect.
you were perfectly wrapped in your blanket, eyes wide as it watched the screen perfectly, chips tasting perfect, drink perfected, everything absolutely perfect—
bzzz.
you immediately groaned. who could possibly be showing up? you hadn’t ordered food. no one was invited over. it was late. what could possibly be urgent enough to prompt someone to ruin your little routine?
you paused the movie (which took three minutes of pressing ‘x’ on ads urging you to ‘text hot, single ladies in your area’, and ‘ai bots who can make you cum in three minutes!’), pushed the blanket off, and pulled the door open with a soft pout you didn’t even register, just to pause when you saw sukuna standing there, eyebrows furrowed, frowning.
you and sukuna weren’t that close, really. you were in the same friend group, but you always felt nervous around him. he was intimidating, scary, too cool for you. he always stared at you blankly, and you decided he was judging you for… everything. you were awkward, nervous, a little odd.
so, him showing up to your home at midnight was a little… nerve-wracking. his red eyes slowly scanned your comfortable, worn out pajamas, messy hair, tiny pout that faded as your eyes widened, before he blinked blankly. “sorry for showing up unannounced.”
he didn’t sound apologetic. at all. his tone was monotonous, almost unamused.
“can i come in?”
you slowly blinked, before realizing how dumb you must look. you grimaced internally, stepping aside, letting him in. immediately, his eyes landed on your little set up, and he arched an eyebrow. “movie night, huh? watching part two of your little movie series?”
“how did you know?” you mumbled, genuinely confused. much to your surprise, his lips twitched up in something that looked like admiration, amused, and it was the closest you ever got to see him smile.
holy fuck, he was so gorgeous it felt unfair. now that you were actually focusing on the man towering over you, dressed in a black shirt and gray sweatpants, tanned skin peaking from under his clothes, muscles on view—
“it’s your favorite series, and it just dropped. i can recognize the sketchy ass website because you hate netflix. you have your little movie night routine, pajamas, chips, and drink.” he murmured casually, nonchalantly, as if it was normal that the guy you thought disliked you knew this much about you. “i listen, you know.”
your jaw was slack, eyes wide. he only snorted, arching an eyebrow. “don’t tell me fucking gojo was right and you really think i hate you.”
you paused. “well…”
“are you serious?” sukuna scoffed. “you’re my fucking favorite in the group, dumbass.”
“what?” you mumbled back, more confused. “you always glare at me. you never talk to me. i was starting to think you didn’t even know my last name.”
he stared at you, almost as if you were insane, then sighed. “you really are oblivious, huh?”
“hey—“
he shook his head, still looking mildly amused. “here’s the notes suguru said he would drop by to give you and forgot. i know you like studying early.”
“oh. you didn’t have to—“
“i wanted to.” he immediately stated, face serious. “‘ll leave you to it, can’t have someone ruining your perfect night. goodnight.”
with that, he was out, leaving you even more flabbergasted.
what. the. fuck.
2. hangouts.
you were still getting used to the idea that sukuna told you that not only did he not hate you, but that you were his favorite in the group. to you, the idea was unbelievable. flabbergasting. maybe even a little more scarier than being hated by him for some reason, but you managed pretty well.
at least you were more comfortable hanging out with your group now.
however, you had a tiny little habit. you hated the coffee at the place your friends loved, so often, you just walked away to the place next to it to buy your own coffee. it provided you a break, making the little pit of your stomach that grows when having to be around people, even your best friends, for too long reset, and you just get a chance to catch your breath.
today wasn’t different. in the middle of the hangout, you grabbed your wallet and slipped out, enjoying the tiny walk in fresh air before you stepped into your favorite cafe.
the familiar barista immediately lit up at the sight of you, boredom fading from his face. he was your age, friendly with a cute grin that grew whenever you two chatted— something that made you feel at ease when ordering.
“my favorite customer,” he immediately greeted, grinning. the bell at the door chimed, and you both didn’t pay any mind to it. “i wonder what you will order this time.”
you snorted. you both knew you ordered the exact same thing every single time. “yeah, i wonder too.”
he chuckled, eyes flickering to the screen. you could feel a figure stopping behind you. “well, you know your total.”
you hummed, about to pay, when the familiar scent of sukuna’s signature perfume finally registered in your mind as he moved to step beside you, eyes narrowed, jaw slowly twitching. “make it two.”
you slowly glanced up. the barista looked up in surprise, before he nodded calmly. “of course.”
before you could register it, sukuna’s card was pressing against the machine, paying for you both. your jaw went slack for the second time this week, flabbergasted once more, but sukuna was already pulling you out of line so that the people behind you could pay.
and, more unfazed that he should be by his own actions, he casually held out the receipt. “here. you take the code and collect points on their app, right?”
“…how the fuck do you even know that?” you mumbled, utterly confused. “why are you here? how did you find me— did you even know what you ordered—“
“easy there, angel.” he murmured, calm. “you always carry the receipt and i see you type something from it on your phone often. ‘m here because the coffee in the other shop is ass. you always come here, so i figured i would try my coffee with you. i know what i ordered because i know your order.”
you openly gaped at him. he only reached over, grabbing both drinks, arching an eyebrow. “are you gonna gape at me forever or drink this sweet shit?”
“…did you just call me angel?”
his amusement immediately faded, ears turning red as he shoved your drink your way, looking away. “absolutely not. hallucinations. let’s go.”
that was what he chooses to deny? not that he knew your movie night in details? that he knew your exact drink? that he knew you secretly collected points from your favorite coffee shop?
you let out a tiny chuckle, amused, following behind him. that somehow managed to make his ears even more red, a scowl pulling on his pretty lips.
fuck. he was gorgeous, and adorable.
how horrible for you.
3. aquarium.
you laid face-down on shoko’s bed, face showed between the pillows, eyes shut in pure horror. “‘m so screwed.”
she sighed for the nth time from where she sat on the ground, studying. “you quite literally could not be more not screwed.”
“i have a crush on him, shoko. i never have crushes. and now i have one, on fucking sukuna. the guy once punched a guy for breathing ‘his’ air. he fucking hates people. i am so utterly fucked. he will kill me.”
she glanced up, as if she knew something you didn’t. “he won’t kill you. kiss you? maybe.”
“stop being delusional.” you mumbled, voice muffled as you buried your face into the sand further. “‘m so fucked.”
she sighed. “you’re delusional too if you don’t realize what’s happening. anyways, isn’t it the twenty seventh? your monthly aquarium night?”
you jumped up, gasping. “it is! fuck!” you quickly grabbed your phone to check the time, before opening the aquarium’s instagram page just in case there were any updates.
and, unfortunately, right there on their instagram story, posted twelve hours ago, was a simple statement.
‘couples only day!’
“oh, fuck my fucking life.” you mumbled, eyes on the story, shoulders drooping. “shoko, be my aquarium date.”
“couples only, huh? if only these weren’t the conditions,” she mused, almost flirty, before tilting her head.
“yes.”
“ask sukuna to go with you.”
you blinked once, twice, before pulling up your phone, nodding, serious. “good idea. ‘m asking gojo or geto.”
“that is quite literally not what i said.”
“you’re a genius.”
you sent off a quick text to geto and gojo, jumping off her bed to head to your own apartment to get ready. after dressing up all cute for the sake of your loved marine animals, you glanced down at your phone, where a vague text from gojo said he couldn’t, followed by maybe three million crying emojis (which was maybe because he had begged before to accompany you said no. aquariums were a single, you-only trip), and geto sent back a simple ‘he’s almost there’, and a thumbs up.
what kind of reply was that? you frowned, sending five questions marks, about to ask who the fuck ‘he’ was, when your doorbell rings.
you pulled the door open, and freeze when your eyes landed on the one and only sukuna. he glanced at you, eyes blank, and nodded once. “let’s go.”
“…where?”
he raised an eyebrow. “the aquarium. date night. let’s go.”
“…are you sure?” you immediately mumbled, voice uncharacteristically low. “‘m, uh, kind of enthusiastic about this. nerdy. geeky. um, annoying.”
his lips twitched up into an endeared smile that he immediately pushed back. “i know what ‘m getting into. let’s go.”
you grabbed your jacket, eyebrows furrowing. “suguru could have just said he couldn’t come. i’m sorry he sent you instead.”
“oh, he could come.” sukuna stated blankly, stepping into the elevator behind you. you glanced up at him, confused, and he stared back blankly, as if waiting for you to collect dots you didn’t even see. he only sighed after a few minutes, shaking his head. “this is both cute and infuriating. so, which stupid creature is your favorite?”
you expected a night with sukuna to be awkward. tense. uncomfortable. a night where you had to hold back so you don’t become labeled as talkative, or annoying, or too much.
you didn’t expect for him to be a good listener. nodding at whatever you said, asking questions at first to keep you talking until you were comfortable rambling. you didn’t expect him to hold your things so you could comfortably get closer to the glass, or stay longer at your favorite animals, or ask you about ones that seemed interesting, his eyes soft and lips twitching upwards just the slightest. you didn’t expect him to disappear at one point and come back with a few limited-edition items from the small gift shop either, dumping them in your arms wordlessly as you two were walking out.
“thank you for being my fake date for the night, kuna.” you mumbled as he was dropping you off, sleepy, eyes soft and voice slurred. he paused at your words, lips twitching into a frown before he eyed how sleepy you were and only sighed.
“of course, angel.” he muttered, reaching over and nonchalantly pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turned around, walking away. “…sleep well, goodnight.”
gaping at him seeming like a new routine, except this time, your sleepy eyes were set on his back as he left, almost getting distracted by his muscles showing through the fabric. oh, you were so, utterly fucked.
4. the beach.
you sat quietly on the sand, wrapped tightly in a towel, eyes ahead as you watched gojo, geto and shoko shoving each other in the water. choso was on a towel beside you, deeply asleep and snoring. toji was playing around with megumi and nobara and yuji, who was yapping about how his uncle dropped him off and disappeared. everyone was enjoying themselves.
you were freezing.
you had gotten there earlier, having known they would all show up too late. you liked swimming alone with no eyes on you, so with too much sunscreen, you stayed in the water under the sun in what you knew was the perfect time for you. by the time everyone else arrived, you were already drying in the shade.
oh, how you wished you had a dry towel—
a dry towel dropped into your lap before the thought even finished. you froze, glancing up at the sky, before immediately closing your eyes again and wishing for a million dollars just in case.
“don’t stare at the fucking sun.”
ah. your genie.
you peaked through your lashes at sukuna, who glared at you, a hand going to shade your eyes from the sun. he was dry, holding a small bag which you assumed was for his wallet and phone and car keys and towel, the sun kissing every spot on his perfect body, as if purposely teasing you.
fuck. how could someone be so pretty?
he sighed, pulling a cap out of the bag. he pushed it on top of your damp hair, shading your face, and slumped beside you. “switch towels. mine is dry.”
“hi.” you mumbled dumbly, blinking a few times to snap yourself from the daze seeing his beautiful red eyes in the sun put you through. his lips twitched, face softening, and he only pulled the cap down further. you finally remembered how to think. “don’t you need your towel dry?”
“‘m not going into the water this late.” he stated. his eyes flickered to choso asleep, and he rolled his eyes, standing back up. you watched shamelessly as he effortlessly pulled the heavy umbrella so it was covering the sun kissed stoner, sighing, voice lower. “that dumbass.”
“i spray him with sunscreen every two hours. flipped him once.” you mused, taking the chance of sukuna being distracted to switch towels, sighing in relief once the warm, dry, soft towel wrapped around you. “thank you, kuna.”
“don’t mention it.” he grunted, then frowned once he registered your words, “you rub sunscreen on him?”
“oh, no, it’s a spray.” you hummed, pulling it out. “isn’t it cool?”
he glanced at the spray bottle, shoulders slowly relaxing. “mhm. it is. can you spray me?”
you nodded, moving to stand up, immediately stumbling in the towel. firm fingers immediately steadied you, and you deeply hoped he couldn’t feel the warmth radiating off you from being flustered as he slowly let go.
you slowly sprayed him, the sunscreen leaving a shiny coat that made him look even more beautiful. after making sure every part of him was covered, you slowly sat back down. “try to rub it to make sure it’s even.”
he hummed, eyes shut, slowly spreading it out, spreading it out on his tan skin.
what a fucking sight, really. he was so, unbelievably gorgeous. you were so fucked.
“…you went early, huh?”
“…yeah.” you mumbled, eyes still on him, hoping he keeps his eyes closed.
“tell me next time. ‘ll go with you.” he sighed. “these idiots always come when it’s already too cold.”
you nodded slowly as he finally finished, slumping next to you on the little beach mat gojo had gotten, so close that his thigh was pretty to your covered figure. he frowned. “your lips are pale. still cold?”
you grimaced. “‘ll be okay. thank you for the towel—“
he sighed, an arm wrapping around your shoulder before he was pulling you towards him. you missed the way his body relaxed, lips twitching into a repressed grin, the face of a man finally achieving one of his long lost goals.
holy fuck. you were pressed to his side, his body oozing warmth. he smelled great, and you could feel his muscles every time he shifted. as you stared ahead, trying to pretend like you weren’t malfunctioning, your eyes landed on shoko, gojo and geto staring back at you guys from the water, jaws slack.
well. at least it wasn’t you this time.
5. studying.
as much as it seemed otherwise, studying with gojo actually helped you. you both kept each other in check— you stopped him whenever he started yapping, and he distracted you whenever you were spiraling. you both were a team when studying— having been one since the first semester, when you both met.
during breaks, however, was when you really liked studying with gojo. you both sat with thirteen expensive pastries in front of you, gojo’s treat, and he grinned excitedly. “oh, this will be so good. you go first.”
“you don’t have to tell me twice.” you mumbled, picking one up. you immediately moaned in delight, holding the rest to gojo, who reached over and took the rest from between your fingers. “fuck. this is so good.”
gojo let out an even louder moan. you both ignored the disgusted glares from the people around you, happily chewing. “oh, these are fucking godsent. thank you for being my taste buddy.”
“thank you,” you mumbled, grabbing another one. “you’re the one spoiling me with these. you’re, like, my dream man right now.”
gojo let out a loud laugh, before pausing, shivering in horror at whatever he imagined. “do not let sukuna hear you saying that. he’ll have my head.”
“why would he have your head for that?” you mumbled, mouthful, and distracted by the heavenly taste of these. you weren’t even a fan of pasteries, but these were on another level. you tried another, and immediately groaned. “fuck. try this one.”
you immediately extended your hand out to gojo. he, as usual, ate half of it off your fingers instead, and dramatically melted in his seat. “ten out of ten. perfect. stunning. i will marry whoever made these.” he swallowed, and quickly ate the rest off your fingers to. “and he will because he’s, like, in love with you.”
“you flipping liar.” you mumbled, unamused with the obvious fake news. “he doesn’t. he’s just a good friend.”
“he’s not a good friend,” gojo snorted. “he almost shoved my head into the toilet bowl yesterday because he was bored. he likes you.”
you did not believe him the slightest. “uh-huh. wanna try the red one?”
“yes, please.”
later that night, you were curled up in bed— going over everything you had studied earlier to lock the information into your mind. the groupchat was blowing up after choso was caught kissing someone (you already knew the news. choso blurted about his ‘secret’ crush to you before when he was high, and forgot.) and you just shot back a sticker laughing, said you were studying and you needed more caffeine to deal with this, and shut your phone off completely.
you really needed caffeine.
everytime you shut your eyes, all you can see is a cold, cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite shop. the condensation running down, the inviting taste, everything—
fuck. you needed one so bad. you frowned, turning your phone on to glance at the time, and paused when a notification stood out from between the ones on the groupchat.
sukuna: pick u up for coffee in five?
you stared at the message, then slowly glanced down at the sweatpants and oversized hoodie you were in, your hair messy, broken glasses on because you were too lazy to get these specific ones fixed and you lost the other, before sighing. you needed caffeine too bad to worry about how you looked in front of him right now.
you: please :c
a car honked downstairs a few minutes. you quickly grabbed your wallet and your half-dead phone, rushing downstairs, grabbing an oversized jacket on the way so you could tug it on top of your thick hoodie, grimacing at how much of a mess you looked. you slid into the passenger seat, and sukuna only stared at you, eyes slowly taking in your appearance, lips softly pulling up.
“don’t say anything.” you immediately mumbled. his smirk widened, but he didn’t speak, immediately resuming to drive, eyes ahead. “‘m so sleepy.”
“uh-huh. let’s get some caffeine in you.” he murmured, turning more serious. “don’t overwork yourself tonight. did you have dinner?”
you nodded, ignoring how your heart felt like it was twirling in your chest. “i did. ate and drank and slept well.”
he hummed. “good.”
in the coffee shop, he got the same as you, paying despite your complaints. once the drinks were out, he grabbed both, wrapping yours in tissues to keep your fingers from being cold before handing it over, humming.
you were looking over notes in your phone, too tired to register his actions. you only quietly took the cup, immediately sipping, shoulders slowly rolling down, tense muscles relaxing. “thank you, kuna.”
he clicked his tongue. “don’t mention it.”
in the car, you focused on sipping the coffee, and he cleared his throat. “gojo said you two were on a study date this morning. pastries and shit. said you called him your dream man.”
you snorted. sukuna glanced over, utterly unamused, almost pouting. “i love gojo.”
his lips immediately formed a scowl. “you love him?”
“not like that,” you snorted. “he’s just… he was the first person who was nice to me in university, you know. the first person who made sure i never felt like a burden. he means a lot to me, platonically.”
he was silent for a while, then nodded, pulling up in front of your building. “good. you deserve to never feel like a burden. you… mean a lot to me.”
was he trying to kill you? you immediately shuffled out, heart beating like it was trying to escape your chest, cheeks burning. “you mean a lot to me too, kuna. um, goodnight. thank you for picking me up.”
“don’t mention it, angel.”
+1.
against your will, you were dragged to a party.
you would have been enthusiastic, really, if finals hadn’t just ended— leaving you too sleep deprived that you couldn’t even walk straight. gojo had came over to force you out and picked your outfit out for you, keeping in mind your pleads for it to be something warm, and you ended up in the passenger seat of his car, asleep soundly, vaguely aware of his whining about you needing to be awake as he drove you there.
you could only remember little snippets between your tiny naps, really.
gojo having his arm around you as he dragged you in.
you slumping down beside choso, immediately falling asleep on his shoulder.
sukuna crouching down in front of you, concerned, eyes worried.
sukuna covering you with a blanket.
sukuna sitting beside you, pulling your head into his shoulder instead.
geto replacing choso. you shifting, head falling into his shoulder because he was warmer.
sukuna immediately pulling you back towards him, an arm falling around your waist to keep you close, bickering with geto.
after that, you drifted into deep sleep— the kind that only came after a week straight of pulling all nighters. and, when you woke up again, you were wrapped in a blanket, on the roof, on a tiny couch with your head on sukuna’s lap and a cigarette between his lips.
the second he registered you awake, he pushed the cigarette into the ashtray, eyes soft, fingers on your shoulders to help you sit up. “you okay, angel?”
“mhm. sleepy.” you mumbled, blinking slowly, still half asleep. you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “thank you for watching over me, kuna. you’re, like, my angel.”
“…don’t mention it.” he whispered— although, it sounded more like a pained whimper. “i… yeah. don’t mention it.”
it was silent for a few minutes. you both stared up at the sky, lost in thought, before sukuna cleared his throat.
“…the stars are pretty.”
“mhm.”
he paused, before speaking again. his voice was low, soft, but it was laced with quiet frustration that you could tell wasn’t pointed at you. “we’re, uh, done with the semester.”
“…mhm.”
he clicked his tongue, and sat up, like he’s restarting. “…we’re good friends.”
“we are.” you mumbled, still dazed from your delicious, needed nap. he let out a small groan, face buried into his palm.
“fuck.”
“…kuna?” you murmured, voice soft, sleepy. his eyes finally flickered up, frustrated and almost disappointed in himself, and you only gave him a small, sleepy smile. “i like you too.”
and finally, it was his turn for his jaw to go slack, eyes widening, before he turned to you quickly. “you’re not fucking with me, right? you like me?”
you nodded, sleepy, but focused. “i like you.”
he didn’t hesitate before dropping to his knees in front of you, eyes soft and almost pathetic. “say that again. please.”
“i like you, kuna.” you repeated, quieter, softer, more serious.
he let his head drop, face pressed against the blanket covering your thighs briefly, voice muffled when he spoke. “…you have no idea how many years i have been dying to hear this, angel. fuck.” when he lifted his head back up, his red eyes were almost glossy. “‘m marrying the fuck out of you one day.”
that managed a sleepy laugh out of you. “take me on a date first, at least. we haven’t even kissed yet.”
his eyes lit up at the mere thought— before you watched him visibly holding himself back, trying to appear more relaxed, probably to not scare you off, despite his reddening ears at the idea. “right. dates. i will date you so fucking good, i promise, you will never think of anyone but me again. not even that stupid barista who clearly wants you so bad. only me.” he nodded, serious, scowling, before his eyes softened again. “best dates of your life. where do you want to go? dinner? coffee? aquarium? your little movie night routine at my place? do you want me to make it a surprise? i will be the best boyfriend— wait, fuck, not that yet—“
you reached over, softly pressing your lips to his,
he froze, eyes probably wide, then immediately melted the second your fingers gently cupped his face to pull him closer, letting out a soft, little sound into the kiss that had his face flushing further.
once you pulled away, your eyes met his dazed ones, and he slowly sucked in a deep breath. “….fuck.”
“dinner sounds good.” you whispered back, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, and he shut his eyes, as if it took visible effort not to groan. “next week?”
“you think ‘ll make it to next week?” he let out a sharp laugh. “you have me fucking kneeling for you, angel. tomorrow. 8. please.”
“okay.” you murmured, voice soft. “now, come back up, i will want to continue napping on you.”
hello ^^ can I request some blake/bestie fluff where they’re both relaxing and cuddling after a long day… or whatever u feel like writing for them I’ve been craving more blake content since that last audio came out ;;
(a/n: >:D. this isn't fluff...but it is nicer than what i had in mind originally. i hope you enjoy, blake nation. reqs open!)
Their life had always appeared to them as a series of befores and afters. Events large, small, and all the sizes in between read like billboards when they took the time to drive down the aptly named memory lane, though theirs seemed more like a highway. They could catch glimpses of birthdays, tests, interviews, losses, and revelations in big blocked letters paired with catchy quips, telling them when to pull over so that they could savor the simulacrum of remembered emotions.
They were no stranger to the rift between what had been and what was now.
But this...this still took some getting used to.
He had been sitting like this for an hour, the meek sunlight still leaking through the blinds dimming with every passing second. Completely still, body held with a rigidity that screamed inhuman. Muscles weren't supposed to crystallize like that. Chests were meant to inflate and decompress. Dermis itched and tendons twitched and lids nictitated when the sclera grew dry. But he stared off with unseeing, unfocused eyes at the wall, more marble than man.
They couldn't even see a dip in the mattress where his body rested. He didn't hover, but he didn't impress. He just was.
"Blake?" they tried hesitantly, stepping over scattered notebook pages torn at the edges and protein bar wrappers with their reflective insides crinkled and worn.
They placed a hand on his shoulder, and he didn't so much shiver as convulse, blinking rapidly and taking in a deep inhale, eyes rolling back for a nanosecond.
"What?" he gritted out, and their throat grew sore at the tenderness he rammed into his tone. He was fighting the entity screaming at his distraction, his loss of devotion to its cause. He was listening to them, looking at them, feeling for them.
"I just..." Their words lapsed, guilt gnawing at their ribs. "I was just worried. About you. You haven't moved in a while."
He took a moment to process their words, then lifted a shoulder in a shrug that should have been accompanied by a metallic creak for how unnatural it looked.
"Yeah." he murmured. "I seem to do that a lot."
Silence filled the space between them before he reached his arms up, stretching up toward the ceiling.
"Lay with me?" he asked, his voice bridging the rift between plea and invitation.
They nodded immediately, climbing up to join him, tucking their face into his shoulder and breathing him in. He still smelled like himself, if somehow both earthier and airier than usual. Like river-soaked soil tossed into a maelstrom. Grounded and destructive, bound and free.
Before and after.
"This won't change, will it?" they whispered, the fear of the idea terrifying in its novelty.
"No." he promised them swiftly, gathering them closer, close enough so that they could feel each breath he took. "This won't change. I'm still yours. I'll always come back for you."
"Back from what?"
"Anything."
The word brought tears to their eyes, and they wept. For all that had come before, what would surely happen after, and the impossible reality of the present.
"I know." he mumbled, caressing their arm. And he sounded so much older than he had any right to, as though he did indeed know, with a certainty borne of cyclical misery eternal. "I know."
