Warnings: smut, fem! reader, consensual somnophilia, established relationship, soft dom geto, praise kink, fingering, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, aftercare, mdni.
a/n: oh dear god the geto obsession is coming back again... just wanna chew on him like a chew toy and strangely enough I think he'd allow that sort of thing.
Geto Suguru always tells himself it isn't really his fault when he wakes up aching and hard for you. You're just so soft when you sleep beside him. So pliant and warm, so easy to tuck closer, gently folding you open whenever he wants a taste.
He asked weeks ago, voice low with a hint of embarrassment, violet eyes dipping to his hands, his fingers reaching for yours absentmindedly as he stumbled through the confession of how guilty he felt. For fucking his fist in the bathroom while you slept peacefully in the next room. He'd been so embarrassed about it, worried it made him selfish and full of himself. When he should have been holding you. Keeping you warm and safe. You, soft-hearted as ever, cupped his face, making his violet eyes soften as they looked into yours, and told him it was okay, that if he was gentle, and promised that if you ever mumbled "no" or pushed him away, heâd stop. Who was he to say no to that? Especially when he noticed the cute way your thighs pressed together.
So now, in the hush of the night, it's easy for him to lie there reading a book and feel your breath fan over his arm, your back snug to his chest. Easy to toss the book aside and curl around you like you're some sort of treasure, and he's the dragon who wraps around to protect. He brings a finger or two to his lips, letting the calloused tips drag over the pink of his tongue until they're damp, the faint taste of mint and sleep clinging there, before he carefully slips them down between your thighs.
He parts you with care, brushing along your slit, tracing the plushness of your cunt before circling lazily over your clit. Slow, with just enough pressure to coax your body into reacting. He listens to the way your breathing stutters, always watching for the smallest sign that you're not comfortable. Instead, he feels the way you relax deeper into his warmth, as if your body recognizes him even while your mind is still tangled in dreams.
He murmurs something soft against the shell of your ear as he hooks your leg over his arm and cradles it there. Just a careful adjustment that gives him easier access. Easier to stroke along your folds, to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, to feel the way you instinctively nuzzle back into his chest, nose buried in his hair, as your hips rock against his touch.
When he starts to tease at your entrance, it's always with all the care he has to offer. Just the tip of his thick finger at first, gently coaxing, waiting for your body to flutter open for him. Your sleepy little cunt already warm and damp, practically sighing around him as he eases deeper inside, another finger close behind. He goes slow, letting you take him at your own pace, matching the slow rhythm of your hips, careful not to force anything until he's knuckle-deep. The wet, sticky sounds you make are so sweet he has to bite back a groan trapped in the back of his throat.
His thumb finds your clit again, tracing tight little circles. Aren't you so good for him? So warm and sleepy, lips parted in a quiet gasp as he leans in to steal a kiss. You respond without thinking, mouth moving lazily against his, tongue brushing his in soft, drowsy strokes, kissing him while trapped inside a dream.
He could stay like this forever, just working your tight pussy open, feeling your walls flutter and weep around his fingers. But then you start to squeeze down on him, clutching and pulsing like your body is trying to milk him already, and the careful restraint he prides himself on begins to slip. You cum with a fragile little whine, hips giving a tiny, helpless roll back against his hardening length, and something in him just melts.
"Sensitive, huh?" he breathes against your cheek, his voice all gentle praise, a hum deep in his chest. Planting a little kiss before moving. Giving his cock a few quick strokes with his free hand as you come down from your high. "You're doing so well for me, pretty. You're okay, right? Still holding on for me?"
You make some soft, barely-there sound that he chooses to take as agreement, your body nothing but pliant and trusting in his hands. He shifts you into a lazy, tucked-in version of a mating press, hands broad and steady on the backs of your thighs, keeping you open without ever feeling trapped. He's still cooing to you, whispering that he'll be quick, and that he couldn't last long even if he tried with how sweet and wet you feel around his fingers.
It doesn't take much force to slide into you. You're already so slick from your orgasm that he bottoms out in one slow thrust, your walls hugging him in a hot, velvet grip. Your body doesn't fight him; it welcomes him, soft and lax. Your hands find him on instinct, weak fingers curling on his bicep, his arm, anywhere really, or tugging clumsily at his inky hair as he rocks into you in deep, sleepy strokes.
He keeps hitting that one spot inside you, finding it every single time. Each thrust nudges another little sigh, another breathy noise from your lips, and his own moans matching at every sound.
"That's it. That's my good girl," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, your forehead, anywhere he can reach. "Let it out for me."
You start to really stir then, drifting toward wakefulness, eyes fluttering, voice hoarse and thin with sleep as you whisper something that sounds like his name. When you manage, in the softest, shyest little voice, to ask if you can cum, he almost loses it on the spot.
Who would've thought you'd be this sweet for him in the middle of your sleep cycle?
He holds you through it, presses you down gently as your body tightens around him, as you tremble and cling, and he follows right after, spilling deep inside with a low, shuddering groan. He keeps himself buried there, hands smoothing over your hips, your sides, your belly, attempting to soothe every aftershock with his touch.
When it's really too much, he finally eases out and immediately starts fussing over you. He peppers your face with kisses, whispering between each one that he loves you, that you're safe, that he isn't going anywhere. Even when your fingers clutch weakly at his wrist, pulling him back down to you, he just chuckles softly.
"I know, angel. I'll cuddle you, I promise. Just gotta take care of you first."
He slips away only long enough to grab a towel from the bathroom, cleaning you up with gentle strokes, making sure there's no mess left to make you uncomfortable, watching his seed ooze out of your weeping hole just to wipe it away. He brings you a glass of water, rubbing your back until you manage a few sleepy sips, praising you like you've just done something wonderful instead of barely waking up.
Only then does he let himself sink back into bed, gathering you up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. His hand strokes slowly up and down your spine, thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as your breathing evens out again.
"Good girl," he purrs into your hair, voice thick with love. "You're always so good for me."
And this time, when you drift back to sleep, it's with his warmth wrapped all around you and his heartbeat steady under your ear.
summary! you've been fucking your fratboy-friend suguru for ages. you've always wanted your relationship to be more than casual sex, but he always shuts that down. then, like a god with a really nice cock, choso, the schools most reliable plug, tries to swoop you out of that assholes grip. you finally have a man who's willing to give you the world, but will suguru fuck that up for you? (SMUTTTT, p in v, oral: f receiving, fingering.) a lil angst, mostly sexy choso tho đ€đŒ
"f-fuck! sugu, oh god, i can't!"
your cries only fuel the cocky man to thrust harder, deeper as he grunted like an animal in your ear from behind.
"c'monnn, be a good girl and fucking take it, i know you can, baby." he teased, slapping in and out in long strokes, hitting your womb over and over with each tantalising push.
this arrangement blossomed some time after highschool.
both you and suguru always had a thing for each other, even then. you'd share headphones in class, study late at night until the sun came up, and took on projects together as an excuse to be in one another's presence. gojo and shoko always made fun of you both, calling you love struck idiots with no sense of self respect to just admit you liked eachother.
now, in collage, that wishy washy bond seemed to amplify ten fold, with nothing relationship wise being set in stone but the actions always there. right now, in the form of his relentless pounding.
you were an art major at the university of jujutsu, scraping by on your salary from your dive bar job as you navigated the occasional ragers on weekends at suguru and satorus frat, sigma chi, along with the stress of creating.
your dream is to become a free lancer, taking commissions from big names and spending the rest of your life as a dignified artist. but, like all good careers, study and your minimum wage job came first.
the job you were working only an hour ago before suguru waltzed in and whispered lowly in your ear, "been thinking bout' you all day, baby. what time d'you get off?"
now, he's got your hair in a messy bunch as he hits it from behind, moaning and groaning like a fucking porn star. his cocks pushing the nastiest whines from your throat, but his pace never settles.
"fuckkkâ you're a pro at takin' this dick, keep fluttering around me sweetheart, just like that." he pounds into you extra hard that time, letting you know exactly who has you wrapped around his finger.
he hovers over your body reeling with that hot afterglow, panting. the room now smells like his strong cologne and sex. he doesnât rush to pull off of you, suguru never does that. instead, he stays there breathing steadily, his head dipped toward your shoulder.
âyou good?â he asks, looking through your eyes deep into your head in that penetrating suguru way.
âyeah,â you say too breathless. you clear your throat and try again. âyeahâ yeah. iâm good.â
he smiles contently and rolls off to the side, tugging you with him until youâre half draped over his big, bare, muscular chest. the bed creaks under the movement. his hand comes up to your back, the pad of his thumb pushing slow lines into the muscles.
it's moments like these when your mind starts to wonder why you feel so attached to this guy when all he really takes from you is sex, and all you get in return is an unstable sense of stability and a few party invites.
suguru lets out a stretch and a long groan, resting his chin in the top of your head as your tucked into his chest. âdo you work tomorrow?â
âmhm, a morning shift,â you answer. âthen gotta finish a com.â
âmm. that's rough, honey.â
honey..
you smile a little at that, even though he canât see it. he always says that, like itâs a given that your life is busy and hard and worth acknowledging in his eyes. itâs stupid, but it matters to you and he knows that.
he gets a call from the bedside table, but hangs up the line immediately. that small gesture makes your brain go numb.
you hesitate, then speak before you can talk yourself out of having this conversation.
âhey, suguru?"
"hm?"
"you ever think about⊠i dunno. doing things differently?â
âdifferent how?â he asks carefully, his massaging hand slowing down a tad.
you gulp. this is the line you've never crossed. the one you circle and circle and never, ever step over. âlike⊠i donât know. not sneaking around. not pretending this is justâ"
âhey,â he cuts in gently, lifting your chin so you have to look at him. his expression isnât unkind. if anything, that makes it worse. âyou know where iâm at.â
you nod, even though your chest feels constricted. âi know.â
âiâm not looking for anything serious right now,â he says. itâs not mean. itâs not supposed to be dismissive in any way, shape or form, itâs just true. âi donât want to give you the wrong idea, love."
then stop calling me that...
âi know,â you say instead, âiâm not asking for anything. i was just... thinking about it, i guess."
he watches you for a second, eyes searching your face like heâs checking for any excess damage. then he moves in and leaves a brief kiss on your forehead.
âyouâre important to me,â he says. âyou know that?"
you do, and you donât. both at the same time somehow.
eventually, he falls asleep. you stay awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all the things you could never ask for from a man you'd been so indulged in.
~
monday's on campus were hot, long, and so, so boring.
you had a lecture on influences on modern art this morning, eugh.
you had your lecture materials and laptop tucked into your bag as you dragged your feet to the art block. the path curves around the science block, concrete stained and cracked from years of foot traffic. you slow your pace a little as you round the corner, adjusting your grip on your bag.
thatâs when your wandering eyes land on a guy you'd never seen before.
heâs leaning against the wall just out of sight from the main path. his long brown hair shoved up into a messy man bun as the tattooed line across his nose stuck out starkly against his fair skin. he's toweringly tall, with baggy dark jeans held up with a leather diesel belt, campus 00's that'd seen better days, and a white beater adorning his muscular body. on his meaty arms, various detailed tattoos snake up and down in twisted patterns, with thick chained bracelets and leather studded cuffs wrapping around his wrists.
holy shit, this guy was your ever wet dream re-imagined.
his various face piercings and thing chain around his neck caught the morning sun as lyour steps slow down without you noticing.
this mysterious man isnât alone. a guy you vaguely recognise from around campus stands off to the side yet still close, talking quickly with his eyes darting around. you look away instinctively, staring at your shoes, pretending youâre just another student late for class.
voices drift through the air, shoes scuff, then the other guy leaves in a hurry with his head head down.
when you glance back, the tall, grungey one is counting bills. a lot of them. he folds them without any sort of panic, then tucks them into his pocket like itâs nothing.
oh.
you look away again, heart jumping, suddenly very aware of how obvious you must seem. you tell yourself to keep walking. mind your business, you didn't see anything.
but when you pass the corner, you feel it. his eyes, all over you.
you risk a small glance over, and heâs looking at you openly, those brown irises almost choking you up. when your eyes meet, he smiles softly.
that was a surprise.
it isnât suggestive in the gross way guys usually looked at you, it isnât cocky or smug either. itâs warm and a little boyish like heâs amused yet slightly embarrassed by being caught, still, it's like he doesnât mind it at all. like he thinks youâre cute for staring.
you rip your eyes away from the majestic looking boy and grab your bag tight.
you donât look back at him, because you know you don't need to.
a guy like that stays engraved in your head for at least a week.
~
a few hours later, beta theta phi.
the house is weirdly quiet, everyoneâs either in class, at the gym, or passed out somewhere upstairs.
the sun still burns hot as it squeezes its way through the blinds onto the leather couch choso's lounging in.
heâs got his legs spread and his boots planted flat on the floor, a thick stack of bills resting on his thigh. he counts slowly, he likes the feel of the paper, the weight of it, the reassurance that itâs all still there.
a cigarette sits loosely between his two fingers with white smoke floating upward as he exhales through his nose.
beta theta phi isnât flashy by any means. the house isnât huge or pristine, and to be honest, no oneâs tryna pretend it is. itâs solid, very old money mixed with modern features. heavy, trusty furniture, scuffed floors, various trophies shoved onto wooden shelves without much care. it was a spot where loyalty mattered much more than appearance.
choso slots perfectly into this frat, like it was built from the ground up just for him.
he flicks through the last of the bills, taps the stack against his leg to even it out, then slips the money into a thick envelope. it joins two others already sitting on the coffee table. today was good. but when it came to choso, today was always good.
his brain start to wander, his mind flashing images of you this morning, your face all blushy and shy. he knows he only saw you for a few seconds, but he thought you were really cute.
he's knocked out of the day dream when the front door swings open and two rowdy brothers pour inside.
tojiâs big booming voice wafts through the halls first, talking shit about something dumb with sukuna, who follows close behind. they've both got a towel draped over their shoulder, hair damp from the gym. they smell like sweat and cheap soap, muscles still tight from whatever theyâd just put themselves through.
âyo,â toji says, spotting choso. âlook at this guy. always sittinâ here so pretty.â
choso glances up, a corner of his mouth lifting. âyeah? ladies like pretty boys, js' look at gojo.â
"ain't that the truth, that guys drownin' in pussy." sukuna laughs.
they drop onto the couch beside him, the cushions dipping under their massive weight. sukuna reaches out, clasping chosoâs hand in a quick dap. toji copies.
sukuna leans back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. âyou look relaxed.â
âthatâs because i am,â choso replies, taking another drag before tapping ash into an empty can. âmoneyâs good today.â
toji snorts. âwhen's it not?â
chosoâs smile deepens, âthat's true.â
toji eyes the envelopes on the table. âwhatâd you clear?â
âenough,â choso says easily. he doesnât give numbers unless he feels like it. most of the time, he doesnât.
sukuna whistles low anyway. âcampus still eatinâ outta your hand, huh?â that gets a quiet chuckle out of him. âpretty much.â
it isnât bragging, of course. choso was humble like that, itâs just fact.
everyone knows him. not in that loud, showy, gojo way, but in the way that keeps his name out of problems and his product moving cleanly throughout everyone's pockets. he doesnât advertise his stuff, and he definitely doesnât chase clients. people come to him because they trust him, because he never cuts corners, never shorts anyone, never brings problems back to his frat, to his brothers.
most of the frats on campus run through him. beta theta phi, obviously. but sigma chi too. alpha delta, kappa nu, even a few of the smaller houses that pretend they donât need a plug until friday hits and everyoneâs scrambling for grass no one bothered to get.
he keeps it all so organised and respectful, thatâs why no one fucks with him.
heâs made more money than most people their age could even imagine. stacks on stacks tucked away, accounts spread out across multiple banks, investments already working for him while he lounges on a couch counting cash. he couldâve left school ages ago, perhaps disappeared to some holiday country and never looked back,
but he didnât.
college is just so easy. it's nice and predictable, a cover as much as it is a choice. and beta theta phi gave him brothers who donât ask questions they donât need the answers to. he really liked that.
sukuna shifts, rolling his shoulders. âoh, speaking of sigma chi.â
choso glances at him. âhm?â
âtheyâre throwinâ some function this weekend,â sukuna says. âgojo was runninâ his mouth in the locker room earlier. said we could all get free entry if you supply some dope.â
toji laughs. âclassic.â
choso exhales smoke, considering it for half a second. âyeah. thatâs fine.â
sukuna raises a brow. âthat easy?â
âwhy not,â choso shrugs. âi can afford to lose a little.â
sukuna smiles. "it's a glow party, that rave kinda thing we never do because it gets too messy. so, gojo also wanted some molly, said he'd pay for that tho."
"done."
toji grins and leans over, clapping him on the back hard enough to jostle the envelopes. âfuckinâ legend.â
âseriously,â sukuna adds, nodding. âyouâre so good to us.â
choso waves it off, already flicking ash again. âwhat can i say? i love you guys.â
toji lets out a loud laugh, leaning back so far the couch creaks under him. âlisten to this guy.â he mocks, throwing his head back.
sukuna snorts, shaking his head. âshut up, toji. y' just mad he's not as emotionally immature as you are. love you too, cho."
choso rolls his eyes.
toji stretches, arms over his head, muscles pulling tight beneath his skin. âanyways, weâre grabbing food. you wanna tag along? i'll pay.â
choso opens his mouth to answer, then pauses. somethings been nagging at him, hell, might as well pick at these meat heads brains.
âhey,â he says instead.
they both look at him.
âyou guys ever hear of a girl,â he starts to explain as his eyes float towards the window, âshe's an art major, i think. always got a bag full of paints or something. looks like she wandered onto campus by accident.â
toji squints. âthatâs⊠vague.â
sukuna tilts his head, thinking. âart major, huh?â
âyeah,â choso says. âreal pretty, doesnât look like she knows how hot she is.â
thereâs a hum that comes from sukuna, then he snaps his fingers. âoh. her.â
chosoâs attention sharpens up. âyeah?â
â[name],â sukuna says. âsheâs always around sigma chi stuff. parties, events, whatever. went to high school with gojo and his friends, iâm pretty sure.â
toji nods. âyeah, i know who you mean. really nice girl.â
choso hums quietly, absorbing it. âfriends with gojo,â he repeats.
âyeah, pretty much family, from what i hear,â sukuna shrugs. âwhy?â
toji eyes him for a second longer, like he wants to push, then grins instead. âsure you are.â
they head for the door, laughter trailing behind them as it swings shut.
the house falls quiet again.
choso leans back into the couch, staring at the dangling light, the name turning over in his head.
â[name], huh?â
~
sigma chi looks like a cyberpunk futuristic fantasy with the amount of glowing neon paint smeared across everyone's bodies.
big blacklights are bolted into every corner of the room, splashing the walls and dancing bodies in radioactive colours.
paint splatters glow like constellations across bare arms and collarbones and the heavy hitting music penetrates every ear drum.
youâre stationed in the kitchen wearing a pretty, tight dress you almost didn't wear. it hugs you perfectly, so short gojo whistled when he saw you earlier. small lines of neon paint streak horizontally across your cheeks, you hadnât planned on doing your makeup like this but of course, shoko insisted. her steady hand painted you up while you both giggled and tried to stay still.
right now, youâre posted up in the kitchen with her and that white haired idiot, plastic cups full of jungle juice sweating in your hands. it looks scarily neon aswell, which sorta freaks you out.
âthis shit is gonna kill me,â shoko mutters, taking another sip anyway.
gojo laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulders and leaning his weight into you like he always does. âyou say that every time.â
âbecause every time iâm right.â
you smile leaning into gojo. he trys to whisper something flirty in your ear but you shove his face away with a scoff and he fake pouts.
shoko nudges aaid with her elbow. âyou got any molly?â
he grimaces. ânot on me.â
you glance at him, curious. âbut you said-â
ârelax,â he grins. âchosoâs bringing some.â
you blink. âwho?â
they both look at eachother, then at you. "you don't know choso?" they say jointly.
before either of them can answer any further, scuffling near the doorway catches your eye.
your breath gets all hault up in your lungs, because its him.
the guy from earlier this week. he's tall even among the crowd of athletes, his black clothes look beautifully fitting for his vibe. neon paint traces a line across his nose, glowing exactly where that tattoo you'd seen had been. his eyebrow and nose piercings have been swapped out for neon pink rings that glow vibrantly in the backlight.
he looks so perfect it's almost nauseating.
he stalks straight up to gojo, and without a proper greeting, he throws an arm around his neck, pulling him in close like theyâve done this a bajillion times.
âtook you long enough,â gojo laughs, slapping a hand against choso's chest.
the guy grins nice and wide, then shoves a bag full of weed into gojoâs arms like itâs nothing more than candy. âdonât get greedy.â
âyouâre actually the best,â gojo beams.
shoko leans in close to you, whispering, âthatâs choso.â
oh.
choso laughs with gojo shaking his pretty head, then reaches into his pocket again. this time, he pulls out a small baggie with five pink pills gleaming.
from beside you, shoko makes a tiny, triumphant sound. âyes!"
gojo fishes out cash and hands over four fifty dollar notes without counting. choso takes them, counts them, then stops for a sec. he plucks one back and presses it into gojoâs chest with a wink.
âhundred fifty,â he says. âconsider it a favor.â
gojo looks like christmas came early. âi fucking love you.â
âyeah, yeah,â choso laughs.
they bump shoulders, laugh together for a few minutes, then step apart. gojo claps him on the arm. âenjoy the party, man.â
âalways do.â
choso turns to leave, but then he stops.
because his dark, now completely blown out eyes catch on you.
you're fully exposed in your staring. for a small moment of time, he freezes still. like he didnât expect to see you here, like the room had dropped out from under him.
then he laughs. awkward and quiet, scratching at the back of his neck.
you smile back shyly, itâs adorably small, but hell, it wacks him in the head like a brick.
he straightens a little, smile turning nervous in a way that doesnât match his size or his nonchalant reputation. he looks like heâs about to say something. like heâs weighing his options, deciding if he should come over, if this is his moment.
you tilt your head, waiting for something to come of this, then,
âchoso!â someone yells from across the room.
a guy with short dark hair and a pedo stache named shiu, a man you'd seen before hanging around toji.
choso glances back at you. then at shiu.
âc'mon, kamo!â shiu calls again, much louder this time.
choso exhales, running a hand through his hair. he gives you one last look and it's apologetic, almost regretful.
then he turns and disappears into the crowd.
you're a little confused, and sigh.
gojo sidles back up beside you, following your gaze. âdamn.â
âwhat?â you ask.
he grins. âif i was gay, chosoâs the first guy i'd crack.â
shoko rolls her eyes "if?"
~
some old zara larsson song keeps bumping over the speakers whether youâre into it or not, so you decide you might as well be in it.
you drain the rest of your cup and let shoko drag you back toward the living room where everyone's bodies are slotted together, neon paint streaking across skin every time someone brushes past. someone hands you another drink without asking and you take it, laughing when shoko raises her brows at you.
âc'mon girl, pace yourself,â she says.
âi amm,â you lie, sipping away.
you try to dance like usual, your hips moving with the beat, shoulders loose, smiling at people you barely know. a few guys spin you as some freshman's yelling over a group of girls, and someone else bumps into you and apologises with a drunken smile. itâs fun. itâs loud. itâs everything a party should be.
and still, your head just won't stop obsessive over that guy, over 'choso'.
you begrudgingly catch yourself scanning the room between songs, between laughs, between drinks.
itâs stupid! you donât know him. you donât know his major, his year, his anything.
you shake your head and take another drink.
then, just as you're about to flop into whatever leather couch is closest and contemplate your enter existence, big, firm hands snake around your waist.
you lean back into the man you know is behind you without second guessing yourself.
âthere you are,â he murmurs near your ear.
you turn your head just enough to catch his pretty grin. âi've been here for ages, suguru.â
âyeah?â he says. âcouldâve fooled me.â
his body pressed up against you flush as he grinds his hips into yours, his mouth kissing at your neck.
he wraps his forearms around your chest as you sway with the music. "you look so fucking good,â he adds, eyes dragging over you. âthat dress is just... wow.â he grabs your ass briefly before laughing as you smack his hand away.
you laugh, tipping your head back against his shoulder. âyouâre drunk.â
âa little,â he admits, then dips his head to your neck again.
you dance together, two bodies screaming sex appeal as others point and grin at your fluidity.
he murmurs your name into your neck, his perfectly straight teeth nipping at your skin again, and you forget about the neon paint and the blacklight, along with the mysterious man that had that soft smile.
youâre here now, with suguru.
after awhile of sex heavy music, it changes over to something geto doesn't like, so with one kiss to the bottom of your ear, he whispers, "come on, letâs go mingle a bit.â then pulls you over to your friends with an arm
âoh look, they're not upstairs yet,â gojo calls when he sees you. âthought you ditched us.â
geto just smirks, squeezing your side. âwouldnât dream of it.â
yuki raises a brow, eyes flicking between the two of you. âyou guys look cozy.â
âdonât we always?â you say lightly.
sukuna watches the two of you draw closer, and his mind drifts off to what choso had asked him the other day. he studies you for a second longer than necessary, his eyes sharp even through the fog of the party. then he straightens, arms crossing over his chest.
âso,â he says, blunt as ever. âare you two dating or what?â
oh, okay.
you feel choked up at his bluntness, caught off guard. before you can answer, you feel getoâs arm drop from around your waist.
he steps half a foot away.
ânah,â he says quickly, waving a hand like itâs nothing. âweâre just hooking up right now.â
just..
thereâs a weird, awkward silence. gojo clears his throat. yuki looks away and sukuna sucks his lips in trying not to laugh, like he's noticed how bad that question was.
âright,â you say, forcing a smile. âyeah.â
geto doesnât even spare you a glance.
yeah, this is too much. you were never good in awkward situations.
âiâm gonna go see what shoko's up to.â
you weren't going to see shoko, but you still step away, desperately needing some fresh air.
you push through the back door and onto the porch, whatever screeching drill music you'd assumed yuji put on fading behind you.
as you clicked the door shut, you swivel around and notice that you're not the only one on this porch.
the guy you'd learnt to be choso, leans against the metal railing just a few feet away, a burning blunt between his ringed fingers.
the glow from inside spills across his back, outlining him in soft purple light.
crap.
he hasnât noticed you yet, you consider retreating, stepping back inside and pretending you didnât see him. but, as you step back, your heel clips a large pot plant.
it rattles in its plant tray creating a ruckus.
âshit,â you hiss.
choso looks over his shoulder.
for a second, he seems surprised. then his mouth curves into a small, crooked smile.
âstalkinâ me now, hm?â he says teasingly.
gosh, how utterly pathetic could this night get.
"no- no! i was just- getting some air and i didn't know you were-"
you're cut off by his fond laugh, he's staring at your with half squinted eyes.
"don't worry, it's all good. m' only teasing."
his voice...
you hesitate, then breathe out a relived laugh with him. "i'll leave you to it then, m' sorry."
but before you can step back again, he chokes out a, "no, no. you should stay." it comes out louder than he'd planned, and you can tell by the way his next sentence comes much softer. "i don't mind company, y'know?" he rubs at his neck almost shyly.
laughing lightly at that, you slide into the spot next to him and grip the railing, your shoulder brushing against his.
he turns his body so he's facing you, then, holds out his veiny hand for you to grab. "choso, it's nice to finally meet you." he waits.
you humor him and let your smaller hand slip into his. "[name], it's nice to meet you too."
unexpectedly, he brings your hand up to his lips, looking you in the eye as he presses his lips to your delicate knuckles.
"pretty name for a pretty girl."
then he reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair away from your cheek with the back of his fingers.
he's intoxicating. he's somehow so flirty while looking so shy. you wanna dissapear with him, something about the man was screaming at you to take him by the belt and let him take care of the rest.
but you know better. you really do.
this is choso. and sure, you'd only really become aware of him this past week, but he couldn't be good news. he was the campus plug, a guy with a reputation that trails behind him like smoke wherever he went. bad news wrapped in real good looks and his adorably shy chivalry. you shouldnât barter into this, you really shouldnât smile like you were as he smiled back, shouldnât feel this pull towards him.
and yet, you let him wrap his pointer finger around yours as he stood leaning against the rail, keeping it there as he blew smoke into the sky.
"already so touchy? we just met, y'know." you quiz with a blushed out smile, wriggling the finger he has trapped on his own like a link.
"yeah," he turns to face you again, "but i already know i fuck with you. i like moving at a pace that feels right."
"and this 'feels right?'" you laugh.
"the right-est."
"huh." you reply, like it was a small yet significant revelation. you wriggle your finger again, but this time it's to hold his tighter, earning a smile from him.
"hope you don't have a boyfriend." he asks, looking down at you slyly.
"it's... complicated."
"so no, sweet."
"i-" he taps a finger to your lip.
"if you had a good man taking care of you, that answer wouldn't have any of that wishy washy bullshit. you donât have a boyfriend, let's leave it at that."
"yes sir." you joke, and his pants tighten a lil.
somehow, you feel like you'd known this guy you only properly met ten minutes ago since freshman year, no, screw that, since grade school. he was conversing with you like how one might talk to their long term on again off again. it was captivating yet also terrifying.
he inches closer to you, "i wanna get to know you, [name], should stay out here for a while, hm?"
you nod, and that was that, you end up talking to him for hours.
âiâm kinda surprised i havenât seen you around more. youâd think i wouldâve noticed a guy like you.â you say halfway through your little moment. he lets out a soft laugh, glancing back toward the party through the glass door. âa guy like my? huh? yeah, nah. i donât come to these much.â
âreally?â you tilt your head. âbut you and gojo seem close.â
âwe hang out heaps,â he nods. âjust not here. sigma chi gets too messy n' it's not really my scene.â
you hum in agreement. âfair.â
âwhat about you?â he asks. âyou always here?â
âmore than i should be,â you admit. âoccupational hazard.â
that gets a grin out of him. âoh, so you work?â
"yeah, i work at a-" you're cut off,
"a bar?"
you blink. âhowâd you know?â
he shrugs. âyouâve got the look.â
you laugh. âand what look is that?â
âlike you can handle drunk guys without losing your mind.â
âbarely,â you whisper under your breath. âi work at the sway bar, it's just off campus.â
âhm,â his brows lift. âmight have to stop by sometime.â
you look up at him smiling. âiâd really like that.â
âwhat frat are you in?â you ask him next, and you grin at the way his face lights up.
"beta theta phi, with sukuna and toji, y'know them?"
âahhh i see,â you smile. âyeah, i know them. i can totally see that.â
âsee what?â he asks amused.
âyou sorta just, match their vibe? i guess?â
he leans over to you, then, in a smooth motion he's bracing one arm on the railing behind you so your back would touch his chest if you leaned back. âand what vibeâs that exactly?â
you get choked up for a sec before grinning. âlike, dark. kinda edgy.â
he lets go of a breathy laugh. âyeah? you into that? dark nâ edgy?â
your face blushes pink as you nod. âyeah, kinda.â
that seems to please him, because his smile is satisfied and content.
as you're talking about everything and nothing simultaneously, you slowly start to realise you havenât thought about suguru once. not about how shitty he'd made you feel or the way he would probably be expecting you back inside and in his bed right about now.
your world has narrowed completely, honing in on the man beside you.
"i think you're really cool, [name]." he says from his spot behind you, his chest now fully hugging into your back as his arms have migrated from the pole to your waist. for some reason, where this would usually feel weird, too fast or sexual with most other men, it felt causal with him. like, instead of a rapey gesture meant to swoon you into bed, it was an action that felt so natural and grounding. you were definitely leaning into him.
"i'd hope so, you're kinda hugging me like we're a thing right now."
"would you be into that?" he speaks into your ear, his chin now pushing into the crook of your neck from behind.
"into what? us being a thing?"
"lowkey."
wow, you went from chasing a guy who would turn down being 'a thing' at every turn, to a man far more endearing suggesting it like it was an obvious want.
still, you had to be at least half cautious. "maybe."
he laughs at that, then lets his arms turn you around to face him.
"i'd love to take you out, ma. you're real funny, real sweet. my kinda girl, i can't lie to you."
this almost seems too good to be true. sure, a lotta guys ask you out, but none of them give off the same kinda vibe as choso. "y'sure you're not just saying that to sleep with me? you donât have to go through all that hassle, you know, we can just-"
"no." he cuts you off, looking you deep in your eye. "i don't want that. i really do wanna see where this goes, okay? have ever since i saw you walking t' class on monday."
that makes you still, because he'd been thinking about you as much as you'd been thinking about him, from one little smile. if this wasn't some fated lovers arrangement then you didn't know what was.
you took in a soft breath before smiling, "sure, you can take me out."
you feel him smile against your skin, then he pulls away and you mourn the loss of body heat.
"perfect." he says, pulling out his phone, giving it to you gently. "if you really want this, put in your number. if you donât , just spam the keypad and i'll figure it out later that you're not into me. no awkward shit."
he was perfect, god, he was perfect.
you grin and take it from him, putting your phone number in instantly under the name, [name] đ.
~
he'd kept his promise.
around two days later, you'd had a shift at the bar from afternoon til late. you'd been working for around three hours when the door to the small, yet cozy establishment swings open, revealing a very well dressed choso.
he had a nice shirt and jeans that looked classier than the one he wore to the party, and fitting jewellery littering his every body part. he was a little overdressed for this dingy dive bar setting, but the low lighting complimented his aesthetic perfectly.
he greets the girl at the door kindly, before stalking up to the bar in which you stood behind. he smiles gently as he spots you.
"you really came, that's cute." you smile, wiping up a wet glass with a tea towel.
he takes a once over of your attire and smirks to himself before sliding into the stool, still somehow towering over you despite being sat. "i keep my promises, sweetheart. couldn't turn down seeing you looking this fine in you're little uniform."
that makes you blush a pretty pink, earning a soft chuckle from him as he scans the rack of bottles behind you. choso rarely drank heavy, but when he was in the mood, he'd always preferred the more expensive liquor.
"you guys have any jonny walker? the blue label?" he asks, trying his own hand at spotting the scotch on the rack.
"just ran out, the next one up from that would be some pappy bourbon, but you're looking at $120 a pour." you don't expect him to chose your most expensive bottle, the one only really old timers reach for, so you're preparing to grab for a bottle of beer in the fridge behind you.
"cool, i'll have that then." you almost choke.
"you uhm.. you sure?" you ask, incase this was some joke and you were gonna make a fool of yourself reaching for the top shelf for nothing.
"positive, hun." he smiles back.
you nod, then grab the step stool and reach for the golden liquor.
you pour it up and slide it over. he thanks you sweetly and takes a sip, nodding to himself like this was a good investment. as he drinks, you notice a silver ball of metal shooting through his tongue, a piercing there as well? imagine all the things he could do with that...
unaware of your less than appropriate internal thoughts, he folds a few fifties up and slips it into the chest pocket of your apron. "good recommendation, honey." these pet names were getting more and more bold, not that you minded.
"you're so welcome." you wink, earning an upwards twitch of his eyebrow in appreciation.
he's sitting in the spot many a men had before, all flirting and trying their luck with you. but with choso there, you felt engaged, you actually wanted to talk to him not just laugh and nod along like you cared for his useless conversation.
you quickly cashed in his money, he'd given you $200 so you pulled out his change, handing it out for him to take.
"no, no. that's your tip, pretty girl." he smiles, imitating your wink.
you're dumbfounded. "an $80 tip? we donât- you donât- tipping isn't even a thing here! please, take this back, i seriously can't take it, i-" he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.
"shh, you're such a sweet tender, you deserve a little get back."
he watches you fluster and fumble with the change like itâs the best thing heâs seen all night.
âhey,â choso says easily, leaning his forearms on the bar. âi promise i wonât miss it.â
you glance up at him, brows pinched. âthatâs still a lot of money.â
âitâs not,â he replies, gentle yet firm. âand even if it was, i wanted to.â
you hesitate, then sigh, slipping the bills back into your apron like youâre conceding a battle you were never gonna win anyways. he smiles at that, pleased, like he enjoys when you finally let him do things for you.
âthank you,â you say quietly.
âanytime,â he answers. âthatâs what iâm here for.â
he stays right there for the rest of the night,
he doesnât drift off and he doesnât get pulled into a loud conversation with anyone else.
he orders a few non alcoholic drink because he needs to drive. but the thing captivating his attention the most is you. his body stays angled toward you like itâs the most natural place for him to be.
you keep working, of course. wiping down glasses, taking orders, sliding beers down the bar. but every time you glance back at him, heâs already looking at you.
youâre aware of him the whole time. the way his eyes follow your body everywhere, the way he straightens when you come back, like he canât help it.
he pulls out every conversational skill he'd ever learnt from collage and puts them all to work, trying his hardest to swoon you as best he can. he compliments you over and over, tells you you're such a good worker, slips tenners in your left pocket when you're distracted. he watches you exist like you were the most incredible, hard working being on earth, because to him? you were.
he talks to you when it gets quiet, he has you toppled over belly laughing at one point from across the bar as he tells you stories of his geeky high school days, or ones where his runs didn't go exactly as planned.
god, youâre hot.
thatâs the thought looping in his head, over and over again until his cock feels a little too snug in his pants.
the apron. the way it sits so tightly around your waist. the way you lean forward when you laugh and the neckline of your top dips down to reveal your pretty cleavage. the way your hands move with such confidence even when the barâs loud and messy. heâs seen a lot of girls. slept with some on occasion, none of them felt or looked like this. like you.
itâs annoying, honestly. quite distracting. he finds himself wondering what you smell like up close. would you smell differently to what you smelt like at the party? if it was just the two of you at the bar, would you speak to him soft and sultry like he'd imagined in his recent day dreams? everything about you allured him to such an agonising standard, he felt like grabbing you from behind the bar and driving you back to his off campus place, wrapping you up in his sheets and keeping you to himself, forever.
so we're weird stalkers now choso? perfect. he shook his head at the intrusive thought.
"you okay, choso?" you ask, suddenly right infront of him, pulling him from his you obsessed thoughts. "ah, yeah, y'know. just day dreaming' about my pretty little bar tender friend."
"oh, we're friends now?" you quiz, smirking at him, he laughs and rests his cheek in his palm. "oh, i wanna be much more than that, baby."
you know he said he wanted to see where this went, but fuck, you wanted him all up in you right now..
hours pass by quickly, just like that.
the flirty conversation flows so easily. you talk about different music, about how shit the school's schedule is. about dumb campus drama (mostly revolving around gojo, surprise surprise.) he tells you stories about sukuna and toji without saying too much, painting them as loud but loyal, which you can picture.
you catch yourself laughing more than usual. leaning close to him when he talks. forgetting to check the time.
once, though fleetingly, suguru crosses your mind. heâd texted earlier asking what time you finished, heâd probably expect you to come over after. you hadn't replied yet, wanting to make the decision of whether or not he deserved you later on. choso's little visit was really letting you know you made the right decision, because right now, thereâs only him. his sexy, deep voice, his expression that never diped into that bored look you'd sometimes see on suguru, the way he was talking to you like anything you said was worth acutely listening to.
âyou ever think about gettinâ outta here?â he asks eventually, gesturing vaguely around the bar.
âall the time,â you admit. âbut itâs temporary. just until i finish my degree.â
âoh, shit yeah. you do art, right?â
âyes sir.â
his eyes light up. âthat's sick, y'should show me.â
you breath out a laugh. âshow you what?"
âyour art,â he says. âyou talk about it like itâs your whole world.â
it kind of is.
youâre about to answer when you both glance up at the clock mounted above the liquor shelf.
12:18.
you groan softly. âshit.â
he checks his phone. âdamn. iâve been here f' ages.â
âsame,â you laugh. âi gotta close up soon.â
he stays and helps you clean up as best he can, then walks you out if the bar like the gentleman he is. you both begin your walk down the street where his carâs parked right by the curb, and your bus stop sits a little further down.
âyou bussinâ it home?â he asks, surprised.
âyeah,â you shrug. âcarâs not really in the budget.â
he nods, like he has to remind himself of that reality. not everyone lives lavishly off of drug money like he does.
you pull out your phone, opening the travel app, but choso notices how your pretty face falls.
âwhat's the matter?â he asks.
âall the buses are delayed,â you sigh. âroad closures.â
you start to type something out, probably to see how long the delay is, when his hand grabs around your wrist.
it's not demanding or tight, no, it's like he's softly taking control.
âiâll drive you,â he says.
âoh, wow, no! you've already done so much for me tonight, choso. you donât have to,â you start. âi can walk, itâs not that far.â
he shakes his head. âno. get in the car.â
and you did, you let him open the door and usher you in, then say through his admittedly good playlist as the gps told him where to go. he was really pulling out all the cards, and it was making you hotter and hotter with each passing moment.
as you approached your apartment, you began getting antsy. you didn't want him to just drop you off and leave. you wanted him inside, both you and your apartment.
"here you go, sweets. safe and sound." he smiles, the door open as he stands outside his car letting you out.
âhey,â you say, looking up at him now that you're standing.
he looks at you attentively, like he too is expecting you to say something.
âdo you wannaâŠâ you trail off, letting your eyes do the rest of the sentence, falling over his chest, his arms, his hips.. âcome inside for a bit?â
it's so utterly suggestive without you saying 'i wanna fuck' outright, and he seems to click on pretty fast.
he knows he told you at that party he wanted to see how things played out, preferably take you on a date before he even thought about fucking you, but shit, if you weren't looking at him with the widest, most eager eyes.
âyeah,â he says after copying you, looking at your body up and down. âiâd like that.â
he grins at the way you look away shyly.
he follows you up the steep steps, trying while heartedly not to stare straight at your ass. your apartment door clicks open, and you step aside to let him in.
the space is dark except for a lamp you flick on near the window.
choso stops dead in his tracks.
your apartments like an art critics wet dream. his eyes move rapidly over the hundreds of different works, some unfinished and some looking old. theres large canvases leaning up against every wall, pottery and clay dust on the coffee table, sketches and watercolored studies taped up wherever there was free space. the place feels so lived in, messy in a beautifully creative way, so full of you.
âholy shit,â he murmurs.
you smile, suddenly very shy at the fact you should've cleaned up abit. âitâs... uh, a lot."
ânah,â he says, stepping further in. âitâs sick."
he walks around carefully, heâs afraid to bump into something important to you. leans in close to a large canvas, squinting a little as he studies it.
âyou like, actually made this?â he asks.
âsure did.â
he lets out a quiet incredulous laugh. âwhy the hell are you not, like, famous or some shit.â
you feel your tummy grow hotter at his praise. âi wish that was how it worked.â
âiâm serious,â he insists. âthis is crazy good. like gallery typa shit.â
the way he says it, so sure, so utterly unfiltered, makes your legs feel weak and nimble, suguru rarely commented this much on your work. you hadnât realised how much you wanted to hear that from someone until now.
he keeps going, pointing things out, asking questions, swearing under his breath when something 'really epic and cool' as he likes to put it, catches his eye.
âthis oneâs my favorite,â he says, gesturing to a piece tucked half behind the couch, it was a distorted portrait reminiscent of francis bacon. âitâs got an allure.â
you laugh. âyou should have it.â
he whips his head over to you in the dim light, and raises his eyes like he's surprised. "really? you'd just give it away? it's so good, i mean-"
"not without compensation, of course." you tease, and you have to quickly grab his hand as he reaches into his pocket to grab for the wad of cash you know is in there.
"what are you-"
"not with money, choso..." you blink up at him feigning innocence, and the switch up from surprise to want is unfathomably quick.
you take his hand from its place in his pocket, and bring it up to cup your face, he follows suit and uses the other to pull your hips against his own.
"well, aren't you a little tease. i wanted to take you out first, y'know?"
"yeah? gonna deny me?" you poke, and the look of pure lust in his eyes tells you before he does,
"wouldn't dream of it." and he's on you, pulling you so close as his mouth works against yours feverishly, pulling surprised moans from your throat at how thorough he's being.
with a breathy sigh into the heated kiss, choso's hands pat their way down to the flesh of your ass, and knead at the fat in such an intoxicating way, it makes your skin bloom with goose bumps.
he's pushing his tongue into your mouth, the ball of metal pierced through his muscle clinking against your teeth as he explores you, your own tongue fighting back and forth for dominance.
you get the cue, the demand in his body language, the way he's growing desperate with each flick of tongue and grab of your ass.
you pull away with a click and push your forehead against his. "w-we should go to my room. now."
he smiles, his flushed cheeks turning upwards. you grab for his hand and guide him to your bedroom, pushing the door open quickly and pulling him inside.
he reconnects his lips to yours instantly, you reply by pulling at his fancy shirt, pawing at the collar until the first few buttons are loose.
he too starts tearing at your clothes, pulling the string of your apron loose, letting it fall to the floor, he makes sure the cash he'd slipped in earlier was still safe in the pockets before nudging it away to the side.
you wrangle is shirt off through messy kisses, and he's got yours unbuttoned to the hem.
"fuck, you're pretty." he sighs, pulling away to take in every inch of exposed abdomen and cleavage.
you smirk, then sit back slowly on the bed. he watches keenly, his pants becoming unbearably uncomfortable as you look at him with that lustful gaze.
you un-clip your bra letting it fall to the side to reveal your tits, and he drops to his knees at the foot of the bed in awe.
"jesus..." he almost chokes, his hands grabbing for the button of your work pants. he slips them off, eyes still fixated on the way you grab and knead at your boobs, the urge to wrestle you back onto the bed and fuck you stupid was becoming all but too much, but he had to restrain, opting to sweet talk you a bit before diving in.
"such pretty tits, baby. y'mind if i touch?" he borderline whines.
your wicked smile eggs him on, and he leans forward, taking the soft flesh into his hands.
you smile as he groans, then dip your hand down to his own belt buckle to help his cock spring free.
moaning as you do so, choso flushes a pretty red as his member slaps his lower abs, becoming shy at the fact you were staring so wide eyed at it.
did it look weird? was he not hard enough? fuck, he felt it. then again, he didn't have sex as often as anyone would assume.
his worries are stomped out when you cover your mouth with your hand, "that... that's fucking massive." you breath airily.
okay, good. that was good.
he smirks and stand up, shoving his pants the rest of the way down. in one smooth motion, he has you pushed down against the bed, your legs spread wide open, you let go of a trapped moan at the sudden manoeuvre.
he's inbetween your thighs in seconds, his face inches away from your pantie clad pussy.
"wanna taste you, baby, s' that okay?" he asks, panting heavily like this was the single most important question he'd ever ask. he takes note of how you nod so eagerly, hooking a finger into the waist band of your panties and pulling them off.
"all yours." you slur, and he wastes no time pressing that beautiful ball of pierced metal right up against your clit. all your fantasies were coming true, it seemed.
he laps at your folds, his mouth working magic on your needy hole. every moan that falls from your plush lips has him hitting that pleasure spot with a faster, more precise motion, trying his best to draw out those sexy little whimpers.
"good fucking girl, you're doing so well." he mumbles into the wetness, the vibration from his tone racking through your core.
"f-fuck! chosoâ iâ i can't!" tears are welling up in your eyes at his unforgiving pace, his eyes clouding over with pleasure as he looks at you from down below.
"just focus, baby, come f'me, yeah? can you do that?" you reply with broken whines and choked up moans, your hands fisting into his hair as your hips grind up against his mouth.
you feel your peak building, growing and tightening so fast you clamp your thighs shut around his head.
he doesn't care that he can't breath, doesn't mind that his only purpose to you right now is to feel good, he want that, needs that.
he flicks at your clit in agonising little circles until you finally come undone all over his pretty, fucked out face.
he moans with you, kissing at your clit as you come down, slowing his pace as your breaths ease from rapid to regular.
"jesus, you uhm.. you really know how to eat a girl out." you breath shyly, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow as he moves up onto the bed, laying down next you with one arm propping up his head.
"you come so prettily, sweet thing. want me t' make you feel like that again?" he smiles, and that coil in your tummy you swear was gone had suddenly re-knotted.
"i- uh..." you're too shy to ask, but it's all you want, and he can tell.
"can i fuck you silly, pretty thing? would you like that?" he asks softly, his hands running up and down your naked, sweaty body.
he takes your arm away from your arms, then rolls over so he's pinning them down as his body hovers above yours.
"you like being told what to do, don't you? prefer being spoilt rather than taking the lead, hm?" he asks in a low tone. your eyes dart all around his face, a guilty sign that told him he was right on the money.
"perfect. just sit there and take me, honey. tell me if it's too much and i'll stop, moan loud if you want me to fuck you harder, m'kay?" he quizzes, your shyer eyes find his as you nod gently, "yes, please." you breath, and he goes right ahead.
his fingers slip into your sopping wet cunt and start to scissor you open, kissing the small gasps straight from your throat.
he rubs at your clit with his thumb, preparing you to take him in.
"y'think you can handle it, baby?" he pants, jerking at the base while his hands work you from the inside. you're bobbing your head up and down unevenly, a strangled yes juttering part your lips through noises of pleasure.
he removes his fingers with a wet pop, and lines himself up missionary with your dripping entrance, ready to slowly sink in until you're twitching with anticipation.
"relax honey, you can take it." and take it you did.
as his tip pushes past your hole with a deep groan from choso's lips, you bite down on your own at the sheer diameter. this was gonna be a stretch.
inch by tantalising inch, he's got you choking out jumbled praise and encouragement as your walls flutter deliciously around him.
"fuck, you're so tight, holy fuckâ" he stammers as his tip finally presses against what he can assume is your cervix, based on how you're writhing beneath him.
"okay, baby. m' gonna âoh fuckâ move."
you nod with your eyes squeezed shut and your hands gripping his biceps. "o-okay, cho."
that nickname makes him ten times harder, now he's bucking his hips deeper and deeper into your pussy with strangled groans. "keep callin' me that and i'll come right nowâ" he jokes through pants.
he continues abusing your puffy little hole, using you all up until you're a blabbering mess under this thumb.
"g'naâ ohmygoshâ i'm gonna come!" you cry, a tear slipping from your eye at the pleasure, choso leans down and kissses it away.
"c'mon honey, gimme one more, good girl, you can do it." he moans, picking up his
pumping pace.
you can't handel this any longer, he's dicking you down you so good, better than you'd ever felt before, you can't help but tighten up on his cock and spasm around it until he too is cumming straight into your cervix. bullseye.
you both go limp, your bones turning to mush after such intense sex.
yet, the second choso registers the way your body tenses, the way your breath sounds a little uneven from the discomfort of the sweat and other bodily fluid, heâs stood. he presses a little kiss to your shoulder first, then mutters something soft you barely catch before he slips out of bed.
âstay right there, baby,â he says, low and reassuring. âi got you.â
you hear drawers opening, the ensuite sink running. the quiet domestic sounds feel surreal after everything you'd just done with a guy you'd known for a week that somehow felt like years. when he comes back, heâs holding a damp cloth, warm from the tap. his expression has shifted completely, all that intensity replaced by a loving look of focus and care.
âokay,â he murmurs, sitting beside you. âgonna clean you up a bit, yeah?â
you nod, too loose to do much else.
he starts slowly with your legs, your stomach, your sides. heâs so incredibly careful, thorough without being clinical, like feeling clean and comfortable was his god given mission in this point in time. when he moves between your thighs, softly wiping through your sticky folds, you make a small whiney sound before you can stop yourself.
âhey,â he coos immediately, pausing. âsâokay. i know itâs sensitive.â
his voice is so gentle it almost hurts.
he keeps going, so much softer now while talking to you the whole time.
âyouâre okay,â he murmurs. âi got you. just breathe for me.â
you whine quietly at the sensation, fingers curling into the sheets. he soothes you with words, with touch, like he knows exactly how close to the edge you still are.
âthatâs it,â he says. âyouâre doinâ so good. i know, i know. almost done.â
when he finishes up, he sets the cloth aside and immediately pulls you into him. you hadnât actually realised how cold you felt until youâre pressed against his big chest, his massive arms wrapping around you without hesitation.
you tuck yourself into him snugly, like your body already knows where it belongs.
here, with him.
he rubs your back in slow passes, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. your cheek rests against his dipping collarbone, his heartbeat steady under your ear.
âthere you go,â he murmurs. âisn't that better.â
you let out a long breath.
he keeps talking, his calming post-sex voice like a lullaby.
âyou were incredible tonight,â he says. âso fuckinâ good. y'hear me?â
you hum softly, too warm and pliant to argue.
ânah,â he continues, brushing your hair back with his fingers. âi mean it. you made me feel real good. i'm real lucky.â
your heart squishes together fondly. you think, distantly, about how no oneâs ever done this before. not like this. not with this much loving intention.
you'd thought that was the perfect word to describe this situation; loving.
hell, you weren't really used to living. geto never stayed like this. he never once touched you like you were something to be taken care of after sex. moreso like his friend who happened to be in his bed (which was what it was.)
the thought flickers, brings with it a small pinch of guilt that you don't notice choso clocking. you and geto had agreed to only sleep with eachother, that it would be good to only sleep with a single person... you push away the thought.
after all, right now, chosoâs here. his warmth, his voice, his hands. you don't see how he scans over your guilty expression like a lost kid.
âhey,â he murmurs when you look up at him. âyou okay?â
âyeah,â you whisper. âjust⊠really comfy.â
he smiles against your hair. âgood. thatâs the goal.â
he's brushing his long fingers through your hair, tapping his knuckles to a beat against your back, anything to try and keep you fully here with him. he didn't like that look of guilt in your face from before.
âi hope this didnât mess anything up,â he adds quietly. âwith that date i was talkinâ about.â
you move your head just enough to look up at him. his eyes are searching your face for any sign of regret.
âit didnât,â you say. ânot even a little.â
relief flickers across his beautiful features. âgood,â he says. ââcause i really wanna take you out. do it right.â
you smile, nose brushing his chest. âiâd like that.â
he exhales, long and content, then pulls you closer.
âget some sleep,â he smiles. âiâll be right here.â
your eyelids grow heavy faster than you expect. the steady motions of his hand through your hair, the sound of his breathing, the way he holds you like this is exactly where youâre meant to be.
just before you drift off, you feel his lips press softly to the top of your head.
you fall asleep like that, wrapped up in all of him, all of choso.
~
a few days later, beta theta phi.
choso's sitting in the kitchen, picking at a plate of food with a small smile on his usually calm, bare face.
you were a constant in his brain ever since he'd gone home from your apartment with that painting he 'earned' after the best sex of his life. (said painting is now strung up on his wall.) he'd never stopped thinking about you since that night.
your adorable little moans, the way you melted into him as he fucked you so deep, the way your pretty fucked out body moulded against his afterwards.
you were like crack and he was a hardcore crack head, feining for more of your attention.
as he thinks about stalking your instagram for the fourth time that day to see what you're up to, footsteps stomp down the hallway, heavy ones.
toji accends the stairs shirtless with his hair still damp like heâs just come out of the shower. sukuna follows behind like always, a towel draped over his shoulder, rummaging through a bag of chips before he even hits the kitchen proper. showering at the same time? gay ass guys, choso thought to himself.
âwhat the fuck,â toji says, stopping just short of the island. "why you look like that.â
choso looks up, brow lifting. âlike what?â
âhappy,â sukuna answers around a mouthful of chips. âit's weird."
toji snorts. âyeah, thatâs new.â
choso rolls his eyes, but he doesnât fight the smile this time. he grabs his plate, forks a big bite then shrugs it off like itâs nothing. âcanât a guy enjoy his food?â
ânah,â toji says, pulling out a chair and sitting backwards on it. ânot you.â
sukuna leans against the counter opposite him with his arms crossed. âwhatâd you do. make bank today?â
choso shakes his head, chewing. ânah.â
âbig sale?â
ânope.â
toji squints. âyou finally get your dick wet again or something?â
that does it, choso coughs, nearly choking, then glares at him. âthe fuck is wrong with you.â
sukuna laughs. âso thatâs a yes.â
âshut up,â choso says quickly, pointing his fork at toji. âand donât start.â
toji grins wider. âthat's gotta be it. youâve been walking around like you won the lottery all day.â
choso sighs. "yes, i'm seeing a girl.â
toji stops and sukuna freezes in the middle of a reach for another chip.
ââŠwait, actually,â sukuna says flatly.
choso smiles at the two boys and continues. âmet her at that blacklight party. sheâs really cute. we talked for hours, i visited her work, and i drover her home. you don't get the rest, but iâm taking her out this weekend.â
toji stares at him like heâs grown another head. âyou?â
âyes,â choso says. âme.â
âyou donât talk to women,â sukuna says slowly.
choso scowls. âi talk to women.â
âno you donât,â toji cuts in. âbusiness doesnât count.â
choso opens his mouth, then closes it. fine. maybe thatâs fair.
toji leans back, eyes narrowing in thought. then something clicks. his expression shifts. âwait.â
choso looks at him.
âis this,â toji says, pointing vaguely, âthe art girl you were askinâ about the other week?â
sukuna tilts his head, casual. âsheâs hookinâ up with geto right now.â
...wait... what?
choso goes dead still.
geto.
like, his friend geto?
the one who's always hanging around with him and gojo on tursdays? that geto?
the one he always calls when he needs help at the gym, that geto?
the guy who's one of his most regular buyers, that geto?
his mind latches onto the man instantly, and starts unraveling his entire being piece by agonising piece. he's tall, jacked as fuck, his hair's always smoothed and shiny to perfection, always tied back just right with no knots or bumps, he's got that sexy confident smile and endearing laugh that reels women in.
he's the kind of man who attracts literally anybody, hell, he'd heard even gojo had a thing for him in high school, gojo!
shit.
he thinks back to the porch. to the way you hesitated when he asked about a boyfriend. the way you said it was 'complicated' and how heâd brushed it off, convinced himself it was nothing serious. how he saw that flash of guilt spread across your face after you two had finished. how youâd smiled when he touched you, how easily youâd leaned into him like there wasnât anyone else in your head at all.
geto.
holy fuck.
choso doesnât say anything although the muscles in his neck were contracting with each clench of his teeth, eyes dropping to his plate like the answerâs written there. his appetiteâs gone.
a week.
heâs been thinking about you for a week straight.
asking gojo questions about you when they hung out in class, 'm' just curious, man, she's a pretty girl.' leaving out the part where he was eight inches deep inside you just the other night. stalking every single one of your socials to the point he had your first few posts and username memorised.
and now this?
maybe thatâs why gojo had looked at him funny. why heâd laughed a little too hard when choso asked if you were seeing anyone. maybe it wasnât shock, god, maybe it was disbelief.
choso gulps.
toji watches him closely now. âthat true?â
sukuna shrugs. âmhm, he told me at that same party you were talkin' bout'.â
...
âyou good?â sukuna asks looking a little worried at the man's switch uo.
choso lifts his head up and that bare look finds its way back onto his face and sticks like a face hugger. âmhm.â
toji frowns. âyou sure.â
âiâm sure,â choso says, setting his fork down. âitâs whatever.â
it isnât. but heâs not about to unpack the, 'just found out the girl i'm lowkey falling head over heels in love with is also hooking up with my good friend,' pill right now.
he grabs his keys off the counter and reaches for his leather jacket. âgot a few deliveries to run, see y'later."
sukuna opens his mouth because he really wants to say something else, then thinks better of it. toji just watches him go with sympathy laced through the coloured bands of his irises.
choso slips pre roll out of his pocket and lights it up, trying to rationalise all of this. he'd only met you around a week ago, it's not like you guys were a thing. sure, he'd fucked you better than he'd ever fucked anyone in his life, but he shouldn't be weird and insecure about this, he knows that. it's just, he's never really gone for this before. usually it was girls asking him out, of which he'd reject kindly because he was too busy doing anything else.
but with you, that random night out on the porch, it felt like there was a pull he couldn't just toss aside, he wanted you... and he thought he had you, especially after that intimate night.
getoâs on a come-when-you-can basis, might as well take care of that now and try ease up his racing thoughts. nothing like a good interrogation.
he flops down into his M2, engine turning over as his thoughts narrow to one thing, one task, he leaves suguru a voice message.
"yo, suguru, m' coming over."
~
choso kills the engine and sits there for a minute, his fingers resting on the steering wheel like grounding himself before stepping into situation he already knows he wonât enjoy.
he sighs, then steps outta the car, heâs halfway across the driveway when a happy, familiar voice cuts through the noise of the active fraternity, âyo.â
gojoâs jogging down the steps two at a time with his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his hair pushed back. he grins when he sees choso, big arms opening on instinct.
before choso can dodge it, gojoâs got him in a quick, bone-crushing hug.
gojo squints at him, like heâs clocking something off but hasnât put his finger on it yet. âyou headinâ to suguruâs?â
choso doesnât slow down. âyeah.â
âuh,â gojo starts, glancing back at the stairs like heâs weighing whether to say something. âhey, maybe not the best time, think he's in the shower.â
but choso doesn't listen,
âcho,â gojo calls after him, louder now. âseriously, man, let's hang out first!"
choso doesnât turn around. he takes the stairs with his heart climbing up into his throat with each step. by the time gojo gives up, heâs already at the top landing, moving down the hallway.
he stops in front of suguruâs door and knocks.
theres movement inside, the sound of water shutting off, then a drawer opening.
the door swings open.
suguru stands there in nothing but a towel hanging around his hips, his hair damp and loose around his shoulders, his skin still flushed from the heat of a shower. water beads along his collarbone and trails down the center of his chest. choso hated how good he looked.
his eyes fall all over sugurus body before he could stop it.
itâs dumb, after all, heâs seen suguru shirtless a hundred times. in locker rooms, during pool parties, it never mattered before, but now it does, because youâve seen him like this. because youâve touched this, because you've liked his annoyingly perfect body.
suguru notices choso's ogling and smirks, leaning one arm against the doorframe. âwhat,â he says lightly. âyâwant a workout routine or somethinâ?â choso forces a short laugh, âshut up.â
âmm,â suguru hums confused. he steps aside anyway, letting choso in.
suguruâs place is always so precise and neat. his beds always made, desk cleared, shoes lined up like they belong in a sneaker catalogue. itâs never bothered choso one way or another.
but today, he isnât looking at any of that. his eyes move fast scanning without meaning to. the desk. the floor. the chair by the window. the bathroom door still cracked open, steam drifting out.
then the bedpost.
he spots a pop of pink fabric slung around the wood.. a pair of panties hangs loose around the corner of the frame, looking forgotten. they're pretty, they look your size, and they're unmistakably not suguruâs.
fuck.
suguru follows his line of sight, then sighs softly. âah, ignore that. keep forgetting to deal with those.â
he reaches out and turns choso by the shoulder, forcing him to face him. suguruâs expression shifts, teasing gone, replaced with something more intent.
âwhatâs up with you,â he asks. âyouâve been actinâ weird as fuck, cho.â
choso gulps. for a second, he considers lying. saying nothin then walking out.
but he can't, so instead, he digs into his jacket and pulls out a small bag. he presses it into sugurus chest.
âfour grams,â he says flatly.
suguru nods slowly, then looks down. âhm,â he mutters. âokay.â
he crosses the room, opens his dresser, and pulls out a few bills. counts them once, then twice, before handing them over.
âseventy-five,â he says. âweâre good?â choso takes it, nodding. âyeah.â
suguru studies him now, really studies him. âyou didnât come all the way over here just for that, normally we meet in the middle."
choso exhales through his nose. âi know.â
âso,â suguru prompts. âtalk.â choso hesitates, he's not sure if he sounds insane or not, or if this is totally overstepping some unspoken boundaries, but he can't keep it in.
âare you sleepinâ with [name]?â
suguru coughs out in surprise, ââŠuh.â he leans back against his dresser, arms folding loosely. âyeah,â he says after a sec. âi am.â
choso nods once, like he'd expected it, âm'kay, are you dating her?"
suguru frowns. âwhat? no.â
âplanning to?"
âno,â suguru repeats. âitâs just sex.â he tilts his head, curiosity creeping in. âwhy?" choso doesnât answer right away. suguru narrows his eyes at him. âwhat, you into her or somethinâ?â
âno,â choso says too quickly.
suguru huffs a laugh. âcâmon, man.â
chosoâs voice edges colder. âi said no.â
âokay,â suguru says, hands lifting. âjust askinâ. âcause if you are, you should probably drop it.â
chosoâs eyes snap up.
suguru keeps going, unaware of the turmoil writhing his friend. âjust lookin' out for you, man. sheâs really into me. like, a lot. wouldnât be fair to either of you.â
the strong inside choso's heart break at the sound of that.
he scoffs. âyou think so, huh?"
suguru blinks. âwhatâs that supposed to mean?"
ânothing,â choso mutters, already turning away. âwas just curious.â
âchoââ
choso waves him off without looking back. âdonât worry about it.â
he opens the door, pauses just long enough to throw something over his shoulder, his voice very uncharacteristically cruel. âtry not to confuse sex with somethinâ you donât actually want.â
then heâs gone.
the door shuts with a dull thud.
suguru stands there, staring at the wood long after chosoâs footsteps fade down the long hall.
his whole body feel shaky, like he'd just been stepped on. suguru did not like to be crossed like that.
he glances back at the bedpost. at the pink panties hanging there, the ones he teared off before fucking you dumb into his mattress... at the faint imprint you left on his space.
he frowns.
why does that bother him? heâs never cared before. he's told himself he couldn't commit to a relationship right now, that you being there for him was always just a mutual sex agreements. a good friends with benefits sitch. so why does the idea of someone else wanting you feel so incredibly wrong?
why does it feel like a rugs being pulled out from under him?
he exhales, runs a hand through his damp hair, then grabs his phone. you name pops up on his caller app and he hesitates only a second before calling.
âhey,â you answer, your voice isn't as excited to hear from him as it usually is... weird.
suguru smiles automatically. âhey, pretty.â
you don't giggle at that, or tease him back, you just hum through the receiver.
he frowns slightly. âwhatâre you up to?"
âjust⊠home,â you say. âwhatâs up?"
âi was thinkinâ,â he starts, leaning back on the bed. âmaybe you come over tonight.â thereâs a moment of silence and uncertainty that almost never came when it came to you.
âi dunno,â you say. âiâm kinda tired.â
thatâs new.
suguru chuckles then lowers his voice. âcâmon, hun. i really need you.â
you sigh. âneed me how?"
âbadly,â he says, letting warmth creep in. âbeen thinkinâ about you all day.â
you dint reply instantly and he rushes in before you can pull away and reject him further. âi miss you,â he adds. âmiss the way you feel. the way you look at me.â
âsuguââ
âbaby,â he cuts in gently, âcome over. yeah?â
he strings the pet names together, calls you sweet. calls you pretty. tells you heâs lonely. tells you heâs been wanting you.
he hears the shift in your breath before you speak again.
ââŠokay,â you say quietly.
his smile returns, very, very satisfied. âgood girl.â
he hangs up, feeling way too good about the skill he has to persuade you. he thinks back on choso, how he'd learn a thing or two about threatening his arrangements.
~
youâre on your back in the long haired man's room before you can really register how you got there...
you feel so, so guilty. you didn't want to be here, but you felt awful for suguru, for fucking someone else when the agreement was to only fuck eachother, and talk about it if you were to screw someone else.
maybe that's why you caved into his pleas, you wanted to make it up to yourself, trying fix what felt like a horrible betrayal in your eyes.
sheets cold against your hot skin, suguru hovering over you, naked and sweaty like he belongs there, him, not choso.
"sugu, iâ i wanna talk... there's something i should tell you," but you're cut off by his lips, his demanding, intoxicating lips... the ones working magic on helping you forget about your new friend.
you told yourself you weren't going to melt so easily into him when you got here, that you'd at least try your best to tell him about choso, how you're seriously reconsidering your little arrangement. but it seems he's got other plans, because his lounge is already halfway down your throat ripping lewd moans from your mouth.
he kisses you like heâs reminding himself that you're his. his girl to fuck, to claim without an actual title, not choso's.
his hands frame your face, pads of his thumbs brushing along your jawline as if heâs taking you back, he settles his weight between your legs, torso grinding up against your clothed pussy.
his lips kiss and suck against yours in a careful rhythm, coaxing rather than just taking. it isnât frantic like he's panicked, no, itâs got a beautiful sense of reverence that drives you crazy and lulls away any former thought of taking accountability from your pretty little head. it's clear, even through your cloudy suguru filled haze, that heâs trying to prove a point to himself with every pass of his mouth on yours.
âfuck,â he murmurs softly into your mouth then your name.
his fingers dip down to your soaked panties, he presses his thumb harsh against your clit, pulling that one moan he knew meant he hit the perfect spot.
he shifts them to the side, then slams them deep into your gaping hole.
with every curl he's pulling such pretty groans from your throat, he doesn't care if his tendons begin to ache from how relentlessly he's bullying his thick fingers into your soft cunt, no, he's running you like this over and over if it meant hearing these addictive whimpers, ones he was causing, not choso.
he pumps them against your fluttering, gummy walls so tantalisingly slowly but so precise, it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head with pleasure. he wasn't as sweet as choso had been, he was rough and chasing that high with expert precision.
"such a pretty fucking girl. you're all mine, okay? you're all mine âshitâ." his circles are relentless and binding, but that little monolog seemed to suddenly snap you out of whatever this was.
"suguruâ fuckâ please, stop it. we need to talk." he breaks away from latching onto your neck, then his thumb retracts as he sits up to look at you. this was what he didn't wanna do. talk about it.
he wanted you to get fucked, realise how good you had it with him, and forget about choso...
"what is it? hm?" he try's his best to stay calm but his distain slowly creeps up on him. "s' this about choso?" he quips.
what the fuck? how did he know?
suguruâs sitting up now, and you're pulling your skirt down over your lower half.
this wasnât how you wanted him finding out but, âi donât think i can keep doing this,â you say quietly.
his brows knit. âdoing what.â
âthis,â you gesture vaguely between you. âus. like this.â
...
he exhales through his nose. âyou're serious?â
âyeah.â
his mouth tightens. âlet me guess what.â he spits, and you tell him before he can further his sarcastic venture, âbecause i think wanna see choso.â suguru scoffs bitterly, he knew that was coming but he decides to pry further, âoh yeah? see him how?â
âlike.. properly,â you say. âhe asked me out. on like⊠a date. an actual one.â
his face contorts and stirs into disgust, then irritation. âyouâre kidding.â
âIâm not.â
he scoffs, pushing off the bed and pacing, still half naked. âyou barely know him, [name]!â
âi know,â you retort. âbut heâs been so good to me, sugu, really good.â
âheâs bad news,â suguru seers. âyou donât need a no good loser like him. he has no prospects, no plan for the future, he's bad!"
your stomach sinks at the quips. âdon't say that.â
âsay what?" he bites, and you grow redder with anger, âtalk about him like i'm so naive kid who doesn't know what iâm doing!"
he turns back to you, frustration spilling over now. âheâs a dealer. he sells drugs for a fucking living, thatâs it! no goals, no future, he's sketchy as fuck.â
you shake your head. âthatâs not fair.â
âitâs true.â
âyou'd have no clue! you don't know anything about him.â you spit back, and he laughs meanly. âoh please. know him? heâs got the personality of a brick wall. what, he buy you drinks and suddenly heâs prince charming?"
your chest tightens. âhe listens to me.â
that shuts him up for half a second.
you keep going, voice steadier now that youâve started. âhe shows up. he actually cares about what i have to say. he doesnât treat me like something he picks up when heâs bored.â
his eyes flash. âthatâs not what this is.â
âthen what is it?" you ask. âbecause youâre the one who said it was just sex. over and over again.â
he runs a hand through his hair, agitation spilling from every pore on his smug face. inside his brain, it's a mix of conflicting feelings. suguru likes you, for real, he has ever since high school. not once had he ever thought he'd be with any other girl, just you. but college was for fun, for hookups and parties and no real commitments, so why would he pour more effort into you than he needed? why couldn't you just be his with no strings attached? he wanted you, he loved you, some might say. suguru was not ready to give you up this easily, you were his first.
the thought of you choosing someone else makes his lungs constrict and his brain fizzle and crack until his heart breaks apart at the valves.
âyou donât need choso,â he says again, trying to regain any sort of resemblance of control. âyouâve got me.â
you let out a bitter laugh. âno. i donât.â
his gaze snaps to you. âwhatâs that supposed to mean?"
âyou donât get to say that,â you reply. ânot when you wonât even call this what it is, you're a pathetic excuse for a man. if you're gonna tie me up like a dog and use me for sex, at least have the balls to let me know that's all i am to you."
he looks away as the veins in his neck pulsate and grow, part of him knows youâre right, but to be honest? part of him really just doesnât care. he knows deep down he wants you more than that, why couldn't you understand?
âyouâre just being weird because for once someoneâs actually into me and you can scare them off.â you add, the words tumbling out now.
he wants to spill his guts, tell you all he really wants is you, that he's been enthralled with you ever since high school he's always just been far too immature to really commit, but instead, his eyes narrow. âthatâs bullshit.â
âis it?" you challenge.
he opens his mouth, then closes it.
you sit straighter with your heart hammering. âi really like him, suguru. he treats me well. heâs a good person.â
something ugly flickers across his face. that hurt. you were supposed to be his, now you were telling him you really like another guy? you're his girl! you're his girl.
he laughs, low and cruel. âso thatâs all it takes, huh? a promise of a date and suddenly youâre spreadinâ your legs like a whore?"
what the fuck? that's not what he wanted to say! he cringes at himself but it's too far gone, he can't put a lid on the rage that's bubbling over the edges of the pot that is his heart.
your breath leaves you in a hurried rush. âwhatâ what did you just say.â
he doesnât take it back immediately or rephrase, that's the worst part. âyou heard me.â
your eyes sting but you try your best not to cry. âhow do you even know about choso?â you bite.
his face goes all rigid. âi could tell.â
âtell what?"
âby the way you weren't keen." he says, then adds, "and he came by earlier.â
your stomach drops. âhe came here?.â
âyeah,â suguru says. âasking about you.â
the petty realisation floods over you in a wave of rage. âso thatâs why you called me." you laugh, gutted. âyou didnât want me. you wanted to get your get back, right?â
his temper flares. âdonât fucking twist this.â geto was usually level headed, even in the most heated of arguments, so you knew his anger was real here.
âyou invited me over because your ego got bruised,â you say, voice rising. ânot because you care about me or what i want."
âthatâs not true.â
âthen why did you just say that to me?"
he looks at you with eyes full of distain, âbecause i shouldnât have ever let this get this far. youâre just someone i fuck sometimes. thatâs it.â
oh.
you donât cry at that nor do you yell. you just nod softly, like your body's finally understanding what your heartâs been screaming at you for so long.
âm'kay,â you say softly.
you stand, smoothing your skirt down and reaching for your shirt with hands that feel so far away. he watches intently, fuming, not realising the gravity of the bum ass, idiotic move he'd just pulled.
you grab your things without sparing him a single glance.
âwait,â he says, finally hearing the finality in your movement.
you pause at the door, then you step out and shut the it behind you with a soft click.
inside, suguru stands there for around a minute in silence. then, his legs give out and he drops onto the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
âfuck,â he whispers.
he stares at the floor, replaying every word he knew he should of never said. every look he flashed you when all he wanted to do was tell you how he actually felt, that he was wrong and he knew that, but he needed you all to himself. the way the pretty voice he'd always adored sounded when it broke.
he realises, too late, that he really does love you.
he was just too immature to keep you.
~
you needed to call choso.
sugurus number was blocked the second you got home to your apartment, an act you clearly should've done ages ago.
though, your minds not caught up on him anymore, no. it's running miles around choso.
two things were clear right now,
1. he knew about you and suguru.
2. he probably wasn't too happy about that.
and now suguru was out of the picture, you had to tell him the whole entire truth. that you'd gotten rid of him, that you were willing to put every ounce of yourself back into choso, if he'd let you.
you bite at your lip, contemplating if he'd even pick up if you were to dial. you had no way of knowing if he was turned off by all of this or if he'd still wanna give this whole thing a try.
one way to find out, you thought.
you scroll through your contacts until you find his name and hit call before you can overthink it. it rings far longer than you expect, and when he answers, his voice sounds tired, much quieter than usual. âhey.â
âhey,â you say, trying to keep your voice steady. âum. i know itâs late.â
âyouâre fine,â he says. thereâs a pause. âwhatâs up." it's not much of a question rather a statement he has to say to be polite.
you gulp nervously. âthereâs something i really need to talk to you about. like, in person.â
another moment of silence that stretches abit longer this time round.
âokay,â he says softly. âiâm in the middle of a run right now.â your heart dips, then lifts when he continues. âi can come by after. if thatâs alright.â
relief spreads through you, âyeah. thatâs perfect. thank you.â
âiâll be there as soon as iâm done,â he adds.
âdrive safe,â you say.
.
on his end, choso leans back against the seat of his car, his phone still in hand. he sighs to himself, he already knows how this goes.
heâs had around a day to imagine it. an entire day of replaying everything in his mind, of telling himself not to get too attached to this amazing girl he'd sworn on.
in his head, youâre going to sit him down and say you had fun while it lasted, but youâre choosing to fuck with suguru. youâre going to say youâre sorry. youâre going to say it was complicated and now itâs clearer.
he grips the steering wheel and exhales slowly. he finishes the delivery on autopilot, exchanges empty words he barely hears, his mind is clearly somewhere else.
by the time he pulls up outside your building, his chest feels so incredibly heavy.
he sits there for a while, staring at the entrance, telling himself to keep it together, telling himself heâll be fine no matter what you say.
he steps out of the car and walks up to your door, he lifts his hand to knock, and the door opens before his knuckles touch the wood.
youâre standing there with damp hair from a shower and a serious look on your otherwise adorable face.
you just look at each other, and no one talks.
he doesn't expect you to, but you step forward softly, then gently wrap your arms around his torso.
itâs sort of on instinct, itâs need, and itâs a big relief. he too wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer to try ease the tension in his soul.
âhey,â he murmurs.
âhi,â you say back into his shoulder.
you pull away and move aside, he walks in, glancing around with widened eyes, your apartment still pulls at his attention even now. it all feels so clearly you. he forces himself to focus when you gesture to the couch.
he sits, hands resting on his knees. shoulders squared. ready for this horrible rejection..
you sit beside him, not too close, not far either, you take a moment before you speak.
âiâm really sorry,â you say softly. âabout suguru. about him getting involved with us at all.â
his eyes are darting around nervously but he's still honed in on what you have to say.
âi didnât mean for him to make you feel weird or uncomfortable,â you continue. âand i didnât mean to keep things from you.â
you look forlornly down at your hands. âi blocked him today.â
he shoots his head up in surprise, cute.
âi shouldâve been honest from the start,â you say. âwe had this on and off thing. nothing serious. but meeting you changed that for me.â
you look up at hum, âi like you. a lot. and if youâre still into me, iâd really like to start clean with you. no stupid secrets.â
he looks at you back tenderly, watching over your every feature.
âyouâre the coolest guy iâve ever met,â you add with a small laugh. âand i donât wanna mess this up.â
for a second he just stares at you. then he smiles, it's big and goofy, and so so bright.
âyeah,â he says, sort of laughing. âyeah. iâm really happy you picked me.â
your heart jumps.
before you can reply, his metal clad hand comes up to your cheek pulling you in closer to his lips, he then kisses you softly.
itâs beautifully gentle and ever so slightly desperate. he's leaving small open pecks like each one's it's own form of praise and forgiveness.
your hands curl into his shirt, grounding yourself in the feeling of him here. choosing you, and staying.
when you pull back, your forehead rests against his. you smile wide, youâre glad you closed one door to open this one.
"so, about that date."
~
the two weeks you'd spent dating choso kamo was seriously the best time of you life.
you wake up in chosoâs apartment much more than your own now. his place is fancy, it sits high up in one of those off campus complexes that cost more than they look like they should.
he's got the nice polished concrete floors, floor to ceiling windows with automatic blinds, furniture that fits his dark yet aesthetic so well.
right now youâre tucked into his side on the couch with your legs all tangled together, your heads resting against his chest while the city glows outside the window and he sifts his fingers through your hair. you'd both just come down from a night full of intense loving, choso eating you out for a good hour before completely ruining you just as he had the previous night. now, there was food on the way as he massaged your lowkey back lovingly.
"you okay, honey?"
"more than okay. cho,"
"god, keep calling me that and i'll take you for round three."
this is how itâs been, consistently.he takes you in the most lovely dates, expensive dinners where he never lets you see the bill. not once. you did try at first, bless your soul, fumbling for your wallet, making jokes about splitting it, insisting you could handle yourself. and every time, he shut it down with the same calm tone.
"i got it, sweetheart."
no argument or anything, no crazy big ego. just a nice fact that he could take care of you without blinking.
he takes you to places youâd never, ever pick on your own. spots where the menus only have triple digest beside each item. he watches your face when the food comes out, in awe watching your beautiful eyes light up. he always asks if you like it with a big smile, and he always remembers what you order. when you say you like a certain dessert, what do you know? it shows up again on your door step a few nights later after you tell him you had a rough shift at work.
he never makes you feel small about your money, or lack there of. thatâs the part that gets you the most. when you joke about being broke, he doesnât laugh at you. he just nods like itâs another bit of information about you, not a flaw. when you mention rent stress or art supplies you still need for class, (never with the intention of milking him for money) he listens very intently. a few days later, those things stop being problems. there's an envelope left on your kitchen counter, a new set of brushes delivered to your door. him shrugging it off when you ask.
"you donât have to worry about that, honey. thatâs my job now."
"but iâ it's to much money, cho, i shouldn'tâ" he always shuts you up with a deep kiss.
he comes to the sway bar a lot now, too. he slides onto a stool and waits for you to notice him with a small smile. he's always dressed well and never sloppy. he orders one drink, sometimes only non alcoholic, and stays for hours on end. at the end he tips you like a rich man, which is what he was.
he laughed when you'd try and shove it back at him. he'd lean down and tell you to stop being stubborn.
"i like taking care of you."
itâs not just a suave line, you can tell. he looks so pleased every time you finally accept it.
he drives you straight home after shifts even when itâs late, he says the bus is no place for a girl as cute as you to be that late at night, hell, he even contemplates buying you your own car just to put his mind at ease, then decides it might be just a bit too early in the relationship for that..
every night you donât have work, he's either taken you out or you're crashing at his place, tonight's no different. you're dressed in one of his oversized paris texas shirts after a few hours of sex, and he's got you sat up in his lap caressing your hips.
dating him feels nice and calm. there's no guessing, absolutely no waiting for texts that never come. he checks in with you without hovering and always tells you where he is. he plans things, actual plans. a museum date because you mentioned a new exhibit in passing, a drive out of the city just to watch the sun drop behind the hills and star gaze without the suffocating light pollution. late night food runs where he lets you talk about nothing and everything while he listens to your every word.
he treats you like youâre worth effort, every single day.
on the couch, he moves around then reaches for the fluffy throw blanket draped over the armrest, pulling it over both of you. he smiles down at you fondly.
"you're so fucking pretty, y'know that?"
"mhm, you only tell me that every day." you smile back, and he laughs, tickling your ribs for the attitude.
you giggle into his chest as you smack the muscle, begging him to stop.
after he's teased you enough, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiles into your skin.
"baby." he pulls away and looks you in the eye waiting for you to reply.
"yesss?"
"sukuna's having a birthday party at our frat. i think sigma chi's invited aswell. can you come?" he asks kindly, stroking your head lightly. you nod as soon as he says it, happy to tag along to any function he was going to.
"good. i wanna show you off a little." he announces, slapping your ass half heartedly.
you roll your eyes, but your face is flushed a pretty pink. he laughs, squeezes you once more, then leans back into the couch.
choso has never felt more content than he did right now. he never thought he'd be one for sappy relationships, but for you? god, he'd do this in every lifetime, you were utterly perfect for him.
only thing left is to show everyone else that, too.
~
sukunaâs birthday is exactly what you expect and still somehow more? there's like, literally five beer pong tables lined up in the back yard alone like this was some sorta tournament rather than a birthday bash.
"yeah, he's really into beer pong. it's fitting, i guess." choso laughs
the house infront of you is loud before you can even step inside. sukuna's favourite music flows out the open door, cups are raised and swaying or abandoned on any flat surface. there are, inexplicably, five more beer pong tables set up in different corners of the main living room.
chosoâs hand stays firm at your lower back as he guides you inside, the pretty little dress he'd bought you fit exactly how he said it would. it's nice and snug around your ass, and it's short enough to make his eyes widen when you walked out of the bedroom earlier. the expensive designer shoes he'd gotten you still feel new under your feet. youâd protested, of course, told him he didnât have to do all this, but he told you he wanted to. just like with any other thing he'd gotten you in the past three weeks.
you clock the way a few heads turn as you pass by, and smile to yourself at how good it feels to be on his arm. little did you know, this was his plan all along, to have you looking all sexy and all his as a final fuck you to the guy he knew would be here tonight. choso didn't fight with losers like him, but he could definitely put his money where his mouth was (literally) and show off a little.
âthere they are,â gojoâs voice cuts through choso's slightly possessive thoughts.
heâs smiling so wide as he steps up to you two, his freakishly long arms opening wide preparing for your poor boyfriend. choso barely has time to brace before gojo crashes into him, hugging him hard enough to rock them both back a step.
âhappy birthday to sukuna, i guess,â gojo says, then pulls back, eyes sliding straight to you.
he looks you over once, it's quick but not rude, then he smiles softly. proud, almost.
âyou look really good,â he says, leaning down like heâs about to tell you a secret. his voice gets slightly bashful. âand iâm really glad you finally ended up with someone who treats you right. even if it meant dropping my best friend.â
thereâs no judgment in it or awkwardness, just pure honesty.
you laugh quietly and hug him, arms wrapping around his middle. gojo squeezes you back solidly, you're content with his nothing about this changed how much he cares about you.
toji is right behind him with his meaty arms crossed and his eyes observing. he looks choso up and down first, then his sues land on you.
âdamn,â he says flatly. âshe's a looker.â
choso exhales through his nose a little irritated.
toji smirks, clearly pleased with himself.
âthatâs my girlfriend,â choso says calmly. he's good at keeping his emotions in check. plus, it was toji, this idiot wouldn't know any better.
toji pauses, then nods once. âshit, i forget [name]'s the chick you were getting all giddy over. good job." he says, and claps choso on the shoulder before offering his hand. they dap each other up and choso smirks triumphantly.
âcâmon,â choso says, fingers curling around your wrist. âgotta see the birthday boy.â
he guides you through the littered bodies as gojo and toji trail behind you, the beer pong table nearest the back is surrounded by people yelling over a close game. sukuna is there, his pink spiky hair all wet and damp with sweat, roaring with laughter as he cooks shiu and sinks the final cup. (no one thought he was gonna loose, but they all cheer regardless)
you spot suguru at the same time he spots you.
heâs standing just off to the side with nanami and shiu, he spots your arm wrapped around choso's and you swear to god you see his eye physically twitch in distain.
you giggle softly at the sight, and choso pulls you into him tighter, staring the man dead in the eye as he squeezes your waist. what a sexy asshole.
sukuna turns when he hears chosoâs coming over, his already large grin spreading wider. âthere he i!" he bellows. he always got overly cheery when he was inebriated.
sukuna swallows choso in a big hug and the dark haired boy claps him twice on the back. "god, haven't seen you in ages man! where y'been?" sukuna questions, choso just rubs his neck bashfully and cocks his thumb to point at you. "keeping the missus looked after, y'know how it is."
sukuna's eyes fall onto you and he's surprised. he thinks back to when choso was asking about you that first time and then to when he'd stormed off when he'd told him you were sleeping with suguru. a small proud smile falls over his lips. he always disliked geto anyway, the righteous asshole.
âhappy birthday,â choso says. âyou're old as hell now.â
âshut up,â sukuna laughs. then drags his attention back to you as you step in for a side hug, very quick and polite. âhappy birthday, ryomen." you smile, and he scruffels up your hair fondly.
he glances back at choso, then leans in and mutters, "good pull,â he says quietly. âglad you could wrangle her away.â
choso chuckles, pleased.
you can feel suguruâs stare as shiu and nanami fall back into another game of beer pong without even looking back at the guy. although, it doesn't matter. choso's still making a show of pulling you into him every chance he gets, which you can tell is really ticking suguru off.
sukuna wipes his hands on his jeans as he pulls his attention away from shiu and nanami and back to choso. âyou better not of gotten me anything, cho.â
choso just smiles and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small credit card shaped gift wrapped in neat paper. he hands it over casually.
sukuna sighs with half a smile. âyou didnât have get me shit, man.â
âjs' open it.â
toji and gojo lean in from their spots either side of you and choso. sukuna peels it open, eyes scanning the card once, then his mouth drops open.
âno fucking way.â
he looks up, stunned. âthis is real?â
âmhm. two years,â choso says. âa membership for that fancy gym yer' always whining about.â
sukuna lets out a sound thatâs between a laugh and disbelief. âwhat the actual fuck.â
he pulls choso into another, much tighter hug. âthank you, brother, seriously.â
choso pats his back. âno problem, i love you, remember?â he says, the inside joke making both sukuna and toji chuckle.
then, like itâs nothing, choso reaches back into his pocket and pulls out another card. hands it to toji.
toji freezes. âwhatâs this.â
âpart of his gift,â choso says. âdonât want him training alone.â
toji stares at the card. then at sukuna. then back at choso.
toji exhales a sharp laugh and grips chosoâs shoulder. âi appreciate it, man, seriously. holy shit.â
sukuna looks between them, clearly overwhelmed, then clears his throat and tries to play it off. âalright, alright. enough with the heartfelt shit.â
but his grin doesnât drop one bit.
you watch it all from chosoâs side, chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the noise or the crowd. this is him, he's so generous without making it a big show. loyal without asking for any kind of back credit. he's a solid man in a way that makes everyone around him relax and naturally lean into him.
choso glances down at you and catches you looking.
âyou good, honey?" he asks quietly.
you nod, smiling up at him. âyeah. iâm really good.â
his lips curve into the kindest of smiles as he kisses your tenderly on your head, careful to not mess up your makeup.
off to the side, suguru looks away in disgust having witnessed that little interaction.
'read it and weep.' choso thinks to himself.
but he was far from done, one more little display and he'd be satisfied.
so, later on when everyone was a little drinker on the punch shoko had 'accidentally' poured four bottles of vodka in, he has you pressed up against a wall away from the main hustle and bustle, yet up close to where he knew suguru was lounging around.
"cho, people are gonna see!" you squeal, but his hands donât stop grabbing at the curve of your ass and pushing you harder against the wall.
"good, want them to see." he coos, latching onto your throat and sucking at it softly.
despite your pleas, you were very into this. your boyfriend wasn't always this needy so this show was really doing it for you. you let him claim your throat in bright, blooming hickeys and groaned as he hooked his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue down your throat.
the exchange is heated and passionate, any on looker could tell this was a moment shared between two people who loved eachother deeply, exactly what he was going for.
from behind him, sukuna and toji catch wind of you two and let go of broken cheers, making choso smile into your lips. they both joke about 'not knowing choso has this in him,' which made a few of his other friends add onto the mantra of playful encouragement.
he's living for the way your cheeks heat, the way the attentions making you all hot and bothered. but most of all, he's high off the fact that when he peeks behind him through an open eye, he sees suguru angrily stand from his spot on the couch, and storm outta the house.
mission accomplished.
A/N this is not proofread at all đ going back to my roots and writing choso look at me go đââïž i hope you guys enjoy the lil smau yayy
Hi! Reign here and this guide is dedicated to teaching you how to make:
a) colour gradient text
b) dividers
c) pictures with gradients
Now, as a disclaimer, I'm not saying you should have all these things on your posts. Having pretty things won't guarantee a boatload of interactions and aesthetics shouldn't take away from the actual substance of your writing. Many fics do very well without all the glitz and glamour, and indeed simplicity goes a long way.
You should always prioritise clarity, improvement, and conviction in your writings. Don't get caught up in trying to look pretty and definitely don't be copying other creators' aesthetics unless they've given consent for you to do so.
This serves only as a starting off point for exploring styles that suit you.
Be bold, be brave, be you!
How to get the colour gradient text!
àŒŻ I use stuffbydavid.com
àŒŻ Decide if you want a horizontal gradient/middle gradient/three coloured gradient
àŒŻ Pick your colours + write out the text you'd like to be coloured in the text box
àŒŻ You can see the preview and when you're happy copy all the text in the HTML code box
àŒŻ Go on Tumblr, create a post, click the settings icon of the post, then in the Text Editor function change it from Rich Text to HTML
àŒŻ All your coding will be pasted in the HTML side and they'll appear formatted in the Preview on your Tumblr post
How to make dividers!
àŒŻ I use Canva
àŒŻ Click Create a design
àŒŻ Click Custom size -> for my colour gradient dividers, I use the 3000 x 40 px but you can use whatever sizing you'd like of course -> experiment to your liking
àŒŻ Click the colour wheel to change your background colour
àŒŻ You can do solid colours and use whatever hex code you'd like but to make gradients, scroll through the colour palettes to get to the different kinds of gradient options
àŒŻ From there, you can change the colours of the gradient and adjust to your liking
àŒŻ To download it, click Share, Download, keep it PNG, size 1 and Download for real
àŒŻ On Tumblr, you're going to just drag and drop that downloaded image on the website or if you're on the app, just add it as a picture and adjust it where you'd like it to go on the post
àŒŻ If you were to have drawings like the hearts or croissants for the divider, you'll want to adjust the Custom size, arrange the pictures or elements on the page, and download with a transparent background
àŒŻ A lot of this will involve experimenting for what works for you. There's no cheat code to that, unfortunately. But have fun with it. Don't be afraid to trial and fail -- everyone did at some point
How to add gradient colour to pictures!
àŒŻ Use Canva again
àŒŻ Click Custom size -> 3000 x 800 px (or, again, whatever size you like)
àŒŻ Pick a picture you like -> for manga panels, I like to use Pinterest
àŒŻ Drag that picture onto the blank page and adjust to fit
àŒŻ Click Add Page -> on that page, change the background colour. You can use solid colours or gradient colours, it's the same process as for making gradient dividers
àŒŻ Click the colour page, copy and paste it on your picture
àŒŻ Adjust the transparency of your picture depending on how opaque you'd like the colour to be
àŒŻ Delete the colour page and keep the picture
àŒŻ Then, again, click Share and Download
àŒŻ This is the final product -> you can obviously find better pictures and do whatever colours you'd like, this was just an example
àŒŻ I'm not very tech savvy so if my explaining is terrible, I am so sorry đ but hopefully this makes senses and encourages you to experiment and be bolder with your layout!
CW: Angst, men being men, arguments, jealousy, breakups, mentions of killing and suicide.
A/N: Hi, im still sick so sorry for the delay. I'll probably take a nap after posting this so I wont be responding to asks or comments right away, only the ones that I already have in my inbox. Hope you guys like it!
There will be an alternate ending btw but this is more like the canon ending ig
UPDATE ON: alt ending
here we are with the final installment of asks about this smau.
it's just suguru, he would never hurt you. but your body reacts like it doesn't know that.
masterlist
wc: 1.4k
started as a journal entry months ago kinda
content: boyfriend!suguru, hurt/comfort, angst, argument, trauma response, reader was in an abusive relationship (no specific details)
iâve got voices in my head telling me that i wonât make it far
suguru thinks you carry things too deeply. that you let words and events settle into your chest like stones, holding onto them long after theyâve passed. he wonders if you even realize it, if the weight of them is familiar now, like something youâve always known. he wonders if youâll ever learn to let go.
he carries things too, but unlike you, he doesnât hold them where people can see. he tucks them away into the spaces between his ribs. you wonder if he even realizes how much heâs drowning.
âyou treat yourself like youâre disposable, suguru.â your voice cuts through the stillness, not loud, but laced with something unshakeable. âlike your life is collateral.â
he draws in a slow, deep breath. âand you think you know better?â his voice is quiet, but sharp enough to cut. âyou think knowing me means you get to decide whatâs right for me?â
suguru doesnât argue to win. he argues to exhaust, to chip away at resolve until the whole thing feels like a mistake. youâve seen him do it, but you wonât give in tonight.
âi know enough.â the exasperation in your tone is building now, pressing against something deeper. âi watch you come back in pieces. you stitch yourself together with the bare minimum, just enough to survive next time. and all youâll let me do is watch.â
he shakes his head, a harsh exhale escaping. âi donât need saving.â
âthis isnât about saving you,â your voice wavers. not from weakness, but from something raw, something too knowing. âitâs about you acting like it wouldnât matter if you didnât come back.â
suguru stills. a fraction of a second, something caught between then and now. his face hardens, something so brief it could be missed, but you donât miss it. when he speaks again, his voice is colder, more penetrating, a glacial edge slicing through the distance between you.
âi didnât ask you to care.â
mirror singing in my face, whereâd you go?
the words land like a slap, soundless but deep. you feel them settle, heavy, leaving something raw behind. he isnât raising his voice, isnât yelling, but that only makes it worse. itâs the control in his tone, the way the warmth drains from it, that makes something inside you go quiet.
he moves before you can process it. itâs just a shift, an unconscious attempt to put distance between you, but the way he does it places him directly between you and the door.
awareness prickles at the edges of your vision, something instinctive, old. your breath catches. you shift back, a step so small it shouldnât matter. your fingers curl, not quite a flinch, but close. your shoulders lock. your gaze flickers past him to the door.
suguru notices the movement, but he doesnât understand it yet. he assumes youâre backing down, that youâre retreating from the fight because itâs no longer worth the energy. his frustration simmers, pushing against the borders of restraint. âso thatâs it? youâre just done now?â his voice tight, regulated, but thereâs something hollow underneath it.
you donât say anything.
âyou wanted honesty,â he presses. âthis is what it looks like.â
the silence between you concentrates, dense and unyielding.
youâre not just quiet. youâre tense. too tense. your breath comes too steady, too controlled, like itâs manual. your hands are curled, not in anger, but in something else.
for a moment, he doesnât understand what just happened. the argument was sharp, cutting. but this? this feels different, off-kilter in a way he canât place. his frustration lingers, but itâs edged now by something else, something uneasy.
something twists in his chest, cold and immediate. this isnât right. his eyes follow yours, straight to the exit. and then it clicks.
he sees itâthe way your shoulders have drawn inward, the way youâre not just stepping back, but recoiling.
throw it in the fire, ego in the fire
the realization drops into him like a stone in deep water.
itâs not about the fight anymore.
his voice softens instinctively, dropping into something warm and careful. âyouâre not shutting down.â
you donât look at him. but something changes in your expression, something unstable.
âi scared you.â
your head shakes too fast, too forcefully. âno, you didnâtâit wasnât you.â the words rush out too quickly, like you need him to believe them.
but you still wonât meet his eyes. and thatâs how he knows.
the ache is instant. deep. he steps aside immediately. not because youâre afraid of him but because you need space. and because he understands now.
you wonder if he knows how different he looks like this. how his edges dull, how he softens for a moment, just enough for you to see.
something loosens in your chest, but it doesnât fade completely. youâre holding onto something. something not here, not now. you donât know how to let it go.
he moves carefully, slowly enough that you can track every shift. his posture relaxes, breath leveling, voice smoothing into something softer.
âalright,â he murmurs, quiet. he doesnât demand an explanation. he just lets the moment settle.
you move first. a hesitant step, the ghost of your fingers against his sleeve. itâs careful, tentative. the space between you hums with something delicate, like a thread pulled too tight.
itâs a risk in its own quiet way. a silent question. a test of whether heâll pull away, whether youâll regret reaching for him at all. your fingers hover, barely grazing the fabric, as if pressing too hard will shatter whatever this moment is turning into.
suguru waits. he watches, his breath measured, his presence persistent but unintrusive. he doesnât reach for you. doesnât pull you in. he lets you set the pace, his restraint saying more than words ever could. you think, for a moment, that maybe heâs just as afraid of breaking this as you are.
and when you nod, so small he couldâve missed it, he moves.
iâve got a love for desire
the shift from conflict to comfort is soft and intentional. it unfurls slowly, like an exhale you didnât realize you were holding, like the tentative warmth of sunlight after a storm. no sudden movements, no desperate grasping. just quiet, and the weight of understanding settling over you both.
he doesnât say i would never hurt you. you already know that. instead, he whispers, his voice low and unwavering, âyouâre safe. i got you.â
the silence stretches, gentler now, no longer thick with unspoken tension. after a long moment, he moves again, guiding you to the couch, not forcing, just easing. his fingers trace slow, familiar paths along your spine. a kiss pressed to your temple, lingering.
eventually, you speak, your voice barely a whisper.
âhe used toââ you stop. the words catch, jagged and unfinished. they hover between you, raw and bleeding like an old wound reopened too suddenly. you exhale sharply, but it doesnât steady you. the memory presses too close, settling heavily in your chest, something you canât push back down.
suguru says nothing. he doesnât urge you forward or try to fill the silence. he just listens, steady and patient, the way he always does when it counts.
you curl your fingers into his sleeve, anchoring yourself to the present.
âi donâtââ you try again, but the words feel too big, too tangled, too much. you shake your head, pressing your face into his shoulder instead.
he turns slightly, slow enough that you donât even realize it at first. the space between you disappears as he tucks you closer, his hand smoothing over your back, tracing slow, familiar circles. a grounding weight, warm against you, breath calm at your temple. not asking, not demanding. just there.
and it should feel small, this moment. but it isnât. itâs something more, something that settles in the quiet, telling you that he already knows what you canât say.
he doesnât say you donât have to tell me.
he just nods, resting his chin lightly on top of your head, letting the quiet settle.
his warmth spreads through you, filling the spaces words never could.
âokay,â he murmurs, quiet and certain. not dismissive, not final. just something to hold onto, a reassurance.
youâre here. youâre safe. you donât have to explain yourself to me.
if a man eats from your palm - does that mean you can domesticate him? why not find out!
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
content: fluff! baby Yuji featured + Sukuna n Jin are twins!, Sukuna is so emotionally stunted, Gojo is up to his usual charades, awkwardness + light teasing, Geto being a sweetheart, this one is surprisingly sweet guys I swear
mini a/n: in case you missed it, short interlude from Suguru's pov is here
art I wish was edible by @aransmind !! and divider by @plutism !!
The annoying buzz of your phone on the nightstand and the even more annoying weight of Sukuna pressing down on you woke you up the next morning. Struggling to throw his arm off of you and wiggle free from his heavy hold, the bed whined as you swung your legs off the side to snag your still-vibrating phone. Sukuna grunted, readjusting and rolling over, his lips curling down into a frown in his sleep when he felt the empty space you left.
Rubbing your eyes with one hand, you padded over to the door out to the hall, wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants of his from high school. Holes poked in the hem, the cotton faded from its original color, but comfy, nostalgic.
Back when he was your best friend and you were his. Without all of this other stuff blurring the lines.
It'd be easy to claim fame changed him. But it hadn't.
He was still the same person you'd always known - why should you hold him following the only thing he'd ever dreamed about against him?
You could only step back.
Slowly closing the door behind you, wincing at the creak of the hinges when it clicked shut.
âHello?â You croaked into the phone, eyes half-closed and brain mostly-asleep while you leaned against the wall.
âMorning, sleepyhead,â Gojo happily chirped on the other end.
You grimaced, brows furrowing as you asked yourself how the fuck you could forget to check who was calling before answering.
âWhat?â You huffed, preemptively pinching the bridge of your nose to massage the inner corners of your eyes, like it'd prevent the headache from forming.
âThere's been a slight change of plans today, but-â
There couldn't be a change of plans.
You reluctantly agreed to picking up the stupid guitar pick from him this afternoon in the narrow time slot you had between watching Yuji and going to Sukunaâs show. You didn't have any other time to see him, not if you were going to return it before he knew it was missing, before you could add another item on the list of things for him to get pissed at you for tonight.
âSeriously?â You struggled to keep your voice quiet, not wanting to wake up the man passed out in the room behind you or alert the rest of the house. âI'm babysitting my friendâs toddler today. However important you think your schedule is-â
âSorry, sorry,â Gojo immediately started apologizing, stumbling over his words to backpedal. âThat actually might work even better, actually, you know that playground on-â
âWhat the fuck is that supposed to mean?â You hissed, trying to wrap your head around what he could possibly be talking about.
âWow, that sounded terrible,â He laughed, having at least an inkling of self-awareness. âIâm actually babysitting too.â
You didn't know who would trust him to take care of children.
âI'll send you the address, but I'll be there with them after lunch,â He casually said, your phone already buzzing tucked between your ear and your shoulder while you sighed.
âFine, whatever,â You sighed. As irritating as it was, it'd give you more time to get ready before tonight, so it wasn't the worst thing in the world.
Through the wall, you heard the creak of the wooden floors inside the bedroom, your cue to hang up before you got caught conspiring behind enemy lines.
âI gotta go, see you, I guess,â You muttered, ending the call right as the door swung open and Sukuna stepped out. You were ready for the scowl, the glare he'd cut at you for disturbing his rest, but it wasn't there.
His eyes were dark, sure, but it was his pupils that were staring back at you, the color reduced to a thin ring around them, his face frozen in this weird expression that almost looked like panic, the way his bottom lip was barely parted and all the muscles were too taut, too tense.
âSorry,â You apologized first, slipping your phone in your pocket before folding your arms across your chest.
âWhat?â The question was hoarse, thick with exhaustion when he stared down at you. He didn't offer a follow-up either, not demanding to know what you were doing or who you were talking to.
âFor waking you up?â You couldn't keep looking at him when he kept watching you like that, his stare searing through you, studying you like he'd never even fucking seen you before. Looking down at the dirt stuck in the floorboards, the faint marker stains on the wall below knee level from where Yuji had colored that wouldn't come off all the way no matter how much Jin and Kaori scrubbed, glancing over your shoulder at the empty hall.
He didn't reply, just standing there unmoving.
âIâm, uh, just going to let Jin and Kaori drop me off at my place, by the way. Kaori said she'd get the carseat from her car and Jin can install it in mine, so, um, you don't have to do any of that,â You were almost rambling, talking too fast just to get through with saying it.
Youâd gone back to the kitchen post-sex last night and bumped into her there making Yuji a bottle of milk before bed. Giving you the same sympathetic look you'd been receiving your whole life wherever Sukuna was involved. She offered their assistance before you even had to ask.
âNo,â He grunted, his brows furrowed together. âIâll do it.â
âIt's fine, they already said they would, you don't-â
âI said I'll do it, okay?â He grimaced, finally ripping his eyes away from yours to look back in the direction of the living room, the sound of Yuji crying over something carrying through the hall.
Beads of sweat were pricking at his forehead, pink hair sticking up in odd places, a spot chewed raw on his lip as his attention shifted back to you, pinning you in your place against the wall.
âDid you have a nightmare or something?â You asked, frowning harder with each new detail you noticed.
âNo,â He scoffed, his head immediately turning though, like he didn't want you to see his reaction.
You waited for him to stop being so fucking bizarre.
But he didn't, not even after you took a shower and got dressed, sitting next to you at the kitchen table like there wasn't a weird weight to his silence, the stares you picked up on out of the corner of your vision. Just picking at the pancakes Jin made for everyone, not making any rude comments when Yuji spilled his orange juice onto his plate or when he got poked in the eye trying to buckle him into his car seat after brunch.
âWe're going to my place first, buddy, then I'm going to take you to the playground, okay?â You hummed, nudging Sukuna over so you could finish the job of wrangling him into the seat.
âSlide?â He asked, wide-eyed, just paying attention to the only word that mattered to him - playground.
âUh-huh, you can slide, or swing, whatever you wanna do,â You smiled, ruffling his hair as the buckle clicked into place.
The car ride was still awkward, although you tried to occupy yourself by talking back to Yuji every time he babbled, just so you didn't have to address the man in the driver's seat.
By the time you made it back to your place, you felt like you were suffocating on the tension in the air, the drawn out way he kept glancing over at you that you couldn't begin to decipher. You were rushing to get out of the car first, walking around to get Yuji out of his seat before he started screaming or throwing a fit, cradling him against your hip right as Sukuna slammed the car door shut behind him.
âWait,â He mumbled, huffing, a hand on your side before you could react. âIâll get him. He's heavy as-â
You covered his mouth with your free hand.
âLanguage, remember?â You interrupted.
You weren't going to bring Yuji back repeating a few new fun words he picked up from his uncle on your watch.
âSorry.â
It was muffled, okay, but he didn't bite or spit or slam his hand over yours in retaliation.
You might need to consult a fucking exorcist if he was going to keep acting like a man possessed.
Or if you wanted to be really optimistic about it, maybe it was just the universe sedating him long enough for you to sever the connection without blowing up your friendship in the process.
Still stunned, you were almost limp when he grabbed Yuji from you, taking a few steps towards your apartment building before stopping to wait for you to follow.
Running through the possibility of bodysnatchers and clones when he actually sat down in your living room to watch Yuji while you changed out of his old clothes and fixed your makeup to finish getting ready for the day. But no, when you stepped out quietly into the hall, he was scowling at Yuji, his typical frown and clenched jaw firmly in place while Yuji clambered all over him. No, it was just when he noticed you standing there that his face softened a little, just enough to be neutral.
âTook you long enough,â He grumbled, swatting at Yuji's hand when the toddler tried to yank his hair.
You tossed him your car keys, Yuji clapping when he caught them mid-air.
âSorry,â You shrugged. âMind looking at my tires after you put the car seat? They felt kind of slick when it rained the other-â
âWhatever,â He grunted under his breath, moving Yuji off of him when he stood up.
He'd check for you anyway.
By the time you packed snacks and juice boxes in a bag and wrangled Yuji down the elevator, Sukuna was waiting between your cars, scrolling on his phone and leaning against his driver's door.
âThanks.â
He didn't move while you buckled Yuji in and tossed your bag in the backseat, staring at you with stoic, almost bored eyes. You didn't walk around to him, awkwardly waving.
âGuess, um, I'll see you tonight,â You forced a thin smile while you talked.
âYeah,â It was hardly a grunt of acknowledgement.
But it clung to the corners of your mind while you took Yuji out to a quick lunch, even if the only food he ate off his plate was fries and he tried climbing underneath the table every few minutes until you finally managed to get him to sit still in your lap. Gojo had sent a few texts, reminders that he was already at the playground and asking when you'd be there. You stared at the screen, struggling to come up with a response when your brain refused to relocate any resources to anything other than the asshole invading your head even after you paid the bill and carried Yuji back out.
Leave it to Sukuna to find some new way to throw you completely off-kilter again, rearrange your thoughts so they were still circling around him even when you'd made up your mind to tell him you were done hooking up with him tonight.
Yuji made it a little easier to forget what was weighing you down with a chubby-cheeked smile, his hand in yours when you got him out of the car and he saw you arrived at your next destination.
âSlide!â He grinned, little sneakers hitting the pavement as he pulled away from you to stumble forward into the mulch.
Just to smack straight into a little girl clutching a stuffed animal to her chest.
âYuji!â You called out, rushing over to check both of them out. Grabbing Yujiâs arm and gave him a quick lookover, uninjured, just blinking at you like he was confused why you even stopped him.
The girl was sniffling, rubbing her nose when you glanced over.
âHi, sweetie. Are you okay?â You asked, searching her face for any bumps or bruises.
She shyly nodded, holding her stuffed animal tighter.
You looked around for a parent, anyone who might be responsible for her before she started to cry.
You just hadn't expected who you would find.
Almost didn't even recognize them.
Suguru had another little girl perched on his hip, dark eyes scanning over the playground until his eyes landed on the toddler in front of you and then to where you were squatting down next to her. Gojo was a couple steps behind him, a dark pair of shades covering his eyes, a hoodie barely concealing his stark white hair, like they were trying not to stand out.
A hint of surprise flickered across Suguruâs face before he turned to grumble something back to his friend, the muscles in his face pulling rigid before he started walking over to you.
Yuji started tugging on your sleeves, whining something you couldn't understand while they approached.
âYours?â You tentatively asked whenever Suguru was close enough, the way the girl immediately started clinging to his leg and mumbled daddy confirming it for you before he could.
âYeah,â He nodded, searching your face for something. Disappointment, maybe? Shock? You were surprised, sure, but it's not like it was information you were entitled to. Seeing someone naked didn't mean you knew them. âI, uh, adopted them when they were babies, their parents weren't exactly great.â
Suguru grimaced when he explained, his narrowed gaze waiting for you to react with the judgement he clearly expected.
âYuji, can you say hi? Tell her sorry for running into her?â You nudged him, and the toddler reluctantly waved, throwing big eyes towards the playground he so desperately wanted to play on. You tried to put on your most comforting smile when the one with the stuffed animal peeked out at you. âIâm just babysitting for a friend.â
âSowwy,â Yuji mumbled, just as Gojo finished striding over.
âWho wants to go on the big slide?â He grinned, the girl in Suguruâs arm stretching her arms out to get carried by him instead.
âMe!â Yuji smiled, running over to grab the leg of his pants, apparently possessing absolutely zero concept of stranger danger.
âYou coming, Mimi?â Gojo bent over to poke the other girlâs nose, jutting his head towards the playground.
âYeah,â She reluctantly nodded.
You threw a cautious look at Suguru, silently asking for confirmation that Yuji would be fine with him.
âHe's not as bad as he seems,â Suguru nodded, giving his daughters permission to go with him. âMost of the time.â
âVery reassuring,â You held back your laugh, watching the way Yuji was already trying to drag him over to the steps.
âl won't let them leave your sight, alright?â Gojo offered with a wink directed at you. âCâmon, kids, let's leave the lovebirds to chat.â
âI'm sorry about him,â Suguru murmured once he was out of earshot, stepping closer to stand next to you. It felt kind of silly to watch the four of them make their way across the playground platform, the manchild helping the little ones up the steps to the slide.
âI, uh, didn't realize I'd be seeing you, too,â You admitted, stealing a peek at him. You probably would've picked a cuter outfit at least.
âI didn't know you'd be here either,â Suguru echoed, reaching over his shoulder to rub the back of his neck, half his dark hair swept up out of his face, a thin pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Seeing him in a more natural setting, sunlight filtering through the trees and offering a subtle warmth to all his features, watching him with his daughters, the small smile on his soft lips achingly real, started to shift the perception of him you'd let Sukuna color.
âYou didn't?â You couldnât help the pull he had over you, your attention drawn back to him every time you tried to focus on watching Yuji go down the slide, laughing and babbling while he chased the other two back up the stairs to go again.
âI told him Iâd return your pick to you myself when I found out he stole it,â He explained, his focus starting to soften, his arm brushing against yours when he moved closer again. Gojo's phone call this morning came to mind, the change of plans he mentioned and you'd interrupted before he insisted on you meeting him here instead. He wanted you to know about the girls. âBut he likes to meddle.â
âI kinda guessed that,â You muttered with a light laugh, sticking your hands in your jacket and watching the subject in question pull the beanie over Yujiâs hair down to his eyes, laughing at whatever the toddler was babbling at him while his clumsy little fingers tried to fix it. The little girls were holding hands, whispering something to each other. Even though they weren't identical, you were pretty sure they were still twins. You nodded towards them before hesitantly asking your next question. âHow old are they?â
âThey just turned three. Mimikoâs the one with the doll,â Suguru answered, an automatic smile curling up just from talking about them while he gestured first to the one Yuji ran into. âAnd then there's Nanako.â
âYujiâs two. And a half, I think,â You replied. He was tall for his age, though, the same height as the twins.
There was a pause while he studied your side profile, your arms folding across your chest when you finally turned to face him.
âWhat?â
âYou don't mind?â He asked, and you weren't sure what he was really asking. You didn't mind that he had daughters? Or that he concealed it?
âWhy would I?â You shrugged. Jin had quit the band for Yuji, at least partially because of how hard it'd be to provide privacy and shield him from all the harsher sides of life the spotlight came with. How Suguru managed to keep so much of his life under wraps under the scrutiny of their rabid fan base was more impressive than anything else.
Just having sex with him didn't mean you were owed anything more than aftercare.
Although, you did appreciate his choice of hotel a little more now that you knew he couldn't exactly bring you home to where his toddlers were sleeping.
âKids aren't a dealbreaker for you?â He murmured, his hand grazing against your own, his thumb ghosting over your knuckle.
âA dealbreaker?â You repeated, eyebrows actually arching up in surprise this time. âNo, but um, you know, I might get the wrong idea if you say it like that.â
âAnd what would that be?â He hm-ed, familiar amusement returning to his voice as he slipped his fingers in-between yours, and even though his hand was cold, his palm pressed against yours was nice, comforting.
âThat you might actually like me.â Holding your hand like he was your boyfriend instead of someone who just wanted to warm your bed.
âThen you have the right idea,â He shrugged effortlessly.
You didn't know how to respond to his open admission.
He made everything sound easy. Running the pad of his thumb back over your knuckle, casually looking back over at Mimiko letting Yuji go down the big slide first, while Gojo waited at the bottom to catch him.
âWhat are you going to do about it then?â You tentatively asked, hope you hated inflating in your chest at the thought he wanted the more he made you crave.
âWould you like to go on a date with me?â His voice was so soft, so serious, you had a hard time believing anyone would tell him no.
âYou have something in mind already?â You hummed, biting down on the inside of your cheek so he wouldn't see the stupid smile trying to spread across your face.
âDepends. Are you free tonight?â His question was laced with a subtle sort of sensuality, but maybe it was just because it was him. The low pitch of his voice and the intensity in his stare didn't exactly make things sound innocent.
âSorry, I have plans,â You pouted, waiting for him to react, waiting to see if he thought you were worth rescheduling.
âNext Friday then?â He didn't falter though, his fingers pressing down lightly against the back of your hand when you nodded. âThereâs a little drive-in theater not too far from here, if you like movies.â
âSure.â
You probably would've said yes to anything he suggested.
âIâll get a babysitter for the girls,â He murmured, glancing back at where they were all still playing, although Gojo was still acting closer to their age than he was a responsible supervisor.
âGuess you're lucky I think you're even hotter as a dilf,â You attempted to crack a joke, chewing on your bottom lip when you made him chuckle, the faint lines by his eyes crinkling.
âYeah?â He cocked his head to the side, the tension starting to release from his body at your acceptance.
âYeah,â You nodded, shrugging the bag over your shoulder higher as you tried to subtly shift so your arms were touching, your hip bumping into his side.
The sound of someone crying snapped you out of it, looking up to see Yuji had tripped walking back over to you, scraping his hands trying to catch himself.
âShit,â You muttered, hurrying over to comfort him, getting down on your knees to pull him into a hug with one arm while you pulled down your bag so you could rummage through it for the bandaids you usually kept in there. âYou alright, Yuji?â
âOuch,â He whined between sniffles, holding his hands out for you to inspect. They were barely even scratched, not even bleeding, but that didn't really matter to a toddler.
âI have bandaids if you need them,â Suguru offered behind you, a hand on your shoulder before he squatted down next to you.
âCould've sworn I had some in here,â You muttered, flustered as Yujiâs tears kept falling, knowing they wouldn't stop until he had something cute to cover it up and convince him it was all better.
âHere,â He insisted, producing one out of his pocket, complete with some colorful puppy characters that made Yuji's eyes light up, all the tears immediately drying when you peeled the back off.
âThanks,â You exhaled a sigh of relief, putting it over his palm. He still grabbed onto your jeans though, rubbing the back of his eyes like he was sleepy already, ready for an afternoon nap even though it'd barely been a few minutes.
âHey, Suguru!â Gojo called out, Mimiko in one arm and Nanako in the other, the latter yawning. âThink the girls are about done playing. I'm gonna take them back to your car.â
âSure, thanks, I'll be there in a few,â Suguru nodded with a wave, while Gojo continued carrying them back to the parking lot.
âSo, uh, next week?â You swallowed hard, hoping you didn't sound as giddy as you felt at the prospect.
âYeah, I'll pick you up,â He smirked, and you knew he knew anyway.
âGreat,â You softly said, resisting the temptation to bite your nails in front of him or let something idiotic come out of your mouth next.
âOh, I almost forgot,â He muttered, glancing down as he dug something out of his pocket.
You were almost convinced this whole thing was a dream, or maybe a really weird hallucination when you realized it was a small jewelry box.
But then, he opened it, Sukunaâs pick sitting in the velvet inside instead of a bracelet or a necklace, and you couldn't help but laugh.
âWas that one of Gojoâs ideas too?â You grinned as he closed the lid and passed it over to you, slipping it into your bag before you could lose it again.
âHowâd you know?â He wryly replied.
âThanks,â You giggled again, a honk from the parking lot reminding you he was supposed to be leaving soon. âIt was good to see you.â
âYeah, you too.â He let his eyes drift back over you one more time, like he wanted to make sure he captured the image in his brain, subtly studying your smile.
You waited for him to turn and go, but he stepped forward, one hand gently cupping your cheek.
âYou know, you left before I could kiss you goodbye last time,â He murmured, sounding almost disappointed about it.
âYou really wanted to kiss me?â You couldn't hide your surprise, still struggling to figure out what slot he had placed you in, where his feelings for you fell.
âAlmost as much as I do right now,â He hummed back.
âThen do it,â You teased.
It was soft, pure.
A chaste kiss barely pressed on your lips, nothing that would make any of the parents or anyone glancing over bat an eye, but it felt life-changing. Like the whole world had found a new center of gravity, revolving around the thought of kissing him again, seeing him again.
You wanted it to be real more than you ever wanted anything else before.
âEw,â Yuji whined, a little fist hitting your leg to interrupt the moment. Where did he even learn that?
âDrive home safe, okay?â He pulled away, squeezing your arm before he glanced back towards the parking lot.
âIf you want me to text you, you don't have to ask me to let you know when I make it back home just for the excuse.â It was only half a joke, barely managing to sound coy when excitement was still rippling through the cool surface you were clinging to.
âIâll be waiting then,â He chuckled, pushing a loose bang away from his face.
âBye, Suguru,â You murmured, waving as you watched him leave.
It wasn't the same car he'd driven you in before - this one was big enough to fit the car seats in the back, a family-sized sedan, the windows tinted enough you couldn't really make out much of the inside.
You bent down to pick up Yuji properly, hoisting him up until he was sitting on your hip. If Sukuna was right about anything, it was that he was fucking heavy.
âYou wanna go take a nap? Or play some more?â
âMmâ sleepy,â Yuji yawned again, rubbing his eyes. You fixed the strap of your bag over your shoulder, readjusting as you started back to your car while Suguruâs pulled out of the parking lot onto the street.
It was only then that you noticed him.
Sukunaâs car was parked close to yours, the engine still running.
Did he follow you?
You clenched your jaw, walking towards it instead, Yujiâs head resting against your shoulder snapping up when you banged on the driverâs window.
âRoll this stupid fucking window down,â You gritted your teeth.
But he was incapable of listening, opening up the door instead, forcing you to move before it hit you. The scowl you'd been searching for all morning was there all right, disdain scrawled all over his face.
âAnd you told me not to curse in front of the brat?â He scoffed.
âDo you think I can't take care of him or are you just here to be an asshole?â You hissed under your breath. You felt like you were being strangled - torn somewhere between embarrassment and hurt, guilty like you'd been caught doing something you shouldn't and anger that he shouldn't even be here in the first place.
âYour location is still on, idiot,â He flicked your forehead, towering over you as he glanced around the playgroundâs parking lot. âYou didn't answer my text. Figured the thing was giving you trouble.â
You were turning your location off after this, if he was going to keep using it like this to show up whenever you didn't expect it. Had he seen Suguru too?
Probably not, you reluctantly decided, the momentary panic starting to subside. He would've made a scene if he had, or gotten into some stupid pissing contest just to prove he possessed you first or something equally idiotic.
âWeâre fine,â You grumbled, walking back around him to go to your own car.
âHey, brat.â You were two seconds from snapping at him that he couldn't call you that either, but then Yuji's head popped up, butchering something that sounded like a yeah before you realized Sukuna was actually talking to his nephew. âWanna get some ice cream?â
a/n: I have NOT been able to stop listening to I Caught Myself - Paramore bc it just screams Sukuna x reader to me lol
since i rarely post on tumblr these days (and itâs not even on THIS account) i guess it would be nice to leave this link here!! hello i write stuffs or whatever lmfao
no. one party anthem rockstar!Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna
interlude: man of war | tracklist
You weren't there.
Suguru wasn't sure why that surprised him. Then again, you'd never done anything he expected.
"You're moping," Satoru whined, poking him in the side. Suguru went to smack his hand just to knock one of Haibara's drumsticks he must've stolen out of it, the sound of it clattering against the floor drowned out by the waiting crowd.
"I'm not."
He was frowning though, lips pressed together in a thin frown as he glanced over to his idiot of a best friend, who'd been pouting at his phone for the past five minutes.
"Guess she's not that into you, huh?" Satoru muttered under his breath, not looking up as he readjusted on the couch, the crease between his brows growing deeper while he stretched his legs out.
"Shut up," Suguru grumbled, glancing over to the doorframe to watch Nanami and Haibara return, drinks in hand as the former nodded a silent greeting towards him. He'd known Satoru long enough to know he was incapable of keeping his mouth shut for longer than five seconds so he wasn't exactly surprised when he immediately chimed in with something else.
"I mean, I tried to help you out, but-"
Suguru's cold stare cut him off mid-sentence, jaw clenched in anticipation of discovering what the fuck he'd done this time.
"Satoru," He started, the warning coming straight from his throat.
The white-haired frontman glanced nervously down at his phone, trying to slip it discreetly back into his pocket but Suguru snatched it first.
It was just his stupid story he insisted on posting before every show, dumps of backstage photos meant to drum up the attention he desperately craved. But he'd posted photos with fans this time, random girls that he'd let backstage for a few minutes to meet the band before giving them better tickets and sending them on their way back.
Satoru wasn't nearly as slick as he thought he was.
"Are you trying to make her jealous?" Suguru rolled his eyes, although he had to admit, a piece of him he wasn't proud of would like to see what that might look like.
His last glimpse of you had been stuck in his head all week. The way you stared at him like it was already over when it'd barely began.
"She hasn't seen it," Satoru complained, huffing. But then he sat up straight, flitting from one emotion to the next, a stupid smirk spreading across his face. "You wanna know who has though?"
"Don't care," Suguru sighed, trying to ignore the pricks of his own irritation at the implication you followed Satoru instead of him, however irrational the thought was.
"You're no fun," Satoru tried to shove him off the the couch, playfully punching his arm and dramatically rolling his eyes. "You obviously like her, do something about it."
It wasn't that simple, and it was never supposed to be that serious.
Because one night had never lingered so long, never felt like it wasn't enough until now.
He was about to snap something back at his friend before the phone buzzed, your name popping up in the notification that you reacted to a message. It took him a stunned second to remember it was Satoru's phone he was holding, his message you were responding to.
Something invisible constricting his throat when he pulled the messages up, possessiveness he knew was petty taking over his brain even after he skimmed over your clearly uninterested replies. But Satoru had asked if you could meet him tomorrow with a time and place, and you actually reacted with a thumbs up. And okay, maybe he was an asshole for not finding the time to message you first this week, but he hadn't heard anything from you either.
"You wanna explain?" Suguru coolly asked, throwing the phone back in his friend's lap like he wouldn't be able to hear the razored edge of his voice.
"I may or may not have snagged that guitar pick from her jacket when she wasn't looking last weekend," Satoru shrugged, still grinning, proud of his petty scheming.
"Are you fuc-"
"But now you have an excuse to see her again," Satoru casually smiled with a wink.
"You're an-"
"Angel? The best friend ever?" Satoru interrupted him again, cutting him off before he could tell him what a fucking idiot he was. "You can thank me later."
He doubted that he'd be thanking him at all - probably throttling him actually.
"If you don't wanna do it, I'd be more than happy to meet her tomorrow myself," He proposed, practically asking Suguru to smack the smug smirk off his face after the stupid stunt he pulled.
It was closer to a threat than an offer.
"The blonde from earlier asked me to give you her number, you could always just call her instead if you're not interested."
"Shut up and hand over the guitar pick," Suguru muttered, biting the inside of his cheek between his molars, boots tapping against the floor as he held out his hand.
"It's in my car," Satoru grinned like he won something, although Suguru had no clue what he thought he got out of this other than slightly improving his chances of getting laid if he wasn't single anymore.
"She's off-limits," Suguru couldn't stand saying it, hated having to focus just to unclench his jaw, but he loathed the idea of Satoru trying to steal you from him even more. And Satoru would just keep pushing the boundaries and pressing his luck until he snapped if he didn't say something first.
"You really like her, huh?" His best friend teased.
"It's not-"
"Yeah, yeah, you can lie to yourself like usual, but I know you," He hummed happily, his mouth still moving, his naturally nervous energy before shows radiating off him in waves now that there was only a few minutes before they were supposed to go on. "If you're serious though, you should tell her about-"
"I don't need advice on women from someone who can't get laid," Suguru snapped, too many touchy subjects being poked and prodded at all at once.
"Ouch," Satoru whined, one hand over his heart while the other scratched the fuzz of his undercut.
He wondered if he wouldn't get another night if he did tell you.
Content warning: Sukuna gets an extra warning for being a menace, blood, wounds, dismemberment, angst (!)
đ Songs for this chapter:
Devilâs At Your Door - SWARM, TINYKVT
Oh My Goth - Razed In Black
Before Iâm Dead - Kidney Thieves
* * * * *
Chapter 31
* * * * *
You run.Â
Itâs all you can do.
Feet pounding against fallen leaves, you tear through damp moss and hurl yourself blindly through the forest. Weaving around trees, veering around rocks, you fight for any semblance of direction, desperate for optionsâanything to survive this. Because if the King of Curses doesnât kill you, your own heart will. The muscle slams so violently against your ribcage that the force alone might stop you dead. Â
And, fuck, heâs coming.
The monster has given chase.
You can feel himâwithout needing to glance over your shoulder, without seeing the space youâve carved between you. His presence arrives heavy at your back. First, itâs his energy that slides across your skin. Then comes the sound of his feet, crashing closer on each step.
Run.
Donât stop.
Itâs all you can do.
You canât even thinkâthereâs no time, no space to unravel everything you've learned tonight. Seven years ago. Your first encounter. And the way heâs waited for this moment, for you, for this. To see what youâre capable of. To push you. To face you.
And you want to turn around. To stop running. To fight him. Hurt him. You should. He deserves it. But you donât.Â
Branches lash at your face, tearing into skin as you plunge deeper into the dark. You lift your arms to shield your eyes, because this fucking forest seems determined to slow you down. Still, you go.
Run.
And run.
Run until your legs burn and ache, until your feet are covered in dirt, until the fire in your lungs is unbearable.
By the time you spot a massive tree ahead, your breaths arrive in panting gasps inside your throat. You dive behind it, pressing your back to the trunk, struggling to steady your heaving chest. The night is silent, but for the wind and the screaming pulse inside your ears.
Breathe.
You inhale, trembling. Hands tight and only tightening further around the tantĆ. You look down at it sitting in your palm. Graze your thumb over the engraved markings. His markings.
You hate that itâs his.
Hate him.
Hate him.
âI hate you,â you whisper under your breath.
Another swipe across the hilt. Your hands are a mess. Mottled and discoloured. You can feel your energy ebbing and flowing in your panic and anger. Out of control and only getting worse.
Your head lifts, eyes trailing up the gaunt branches above until they reach into the cold, black sky, where only a few stars sit.
Is this what you wanted?
This is what he wanted.
A slow crunch sounds over the leaves.
You freeze. Whip your head to the noise. You know that terrible sound.
Footsteps.
Closer. And closer.
âHiding are we?â A deep, disembodied voice rattles through the darkness.
Branches snap to your left. Your eyes jump in that direction, head angling around the tree before pulling back.
The footsteps stop. The forest falls silent.
Quiet.
Back crushing into the bark, you ease along it, away from where you think heâs coming from.
âYouâre so much like your fatherâŠâ You hear him shift again, heavy feet dragging across the ground. âHiding, instead of facing me.â
The grip on your weapon turns choking.
Iâm not like my father.
The creature stops again.Â
Iâm not like him.
A cruel laugh rumbles from somewhere, sending shivers racing along your spine. Â
âIâm aware of where you are,â Sukuna drawls, his voice calm, almost bored, winding through the brush with an ease that makes you hate him more. âCome out for me, snake.â
A gust of wind rattles through the woods, peeling leaves from their branches and scattering them to the ground. The forest breathes with you, alive and waiting.
Licking your lips, you slowly pull away from the tree. There has to be a way out of this. Because how the hell can you fight him? Itâs impossible. Your death at his hands feels inevitable.
You could give up. Let the vow claim you instead.
No.
No.
You already know the answerâitâs just one good touch. Thatâs all you need.
Then, this will all be over.
Eyes scanning the surrounding murk, you back away, soundless.
Donât breathe.
You hold your breath.
His footsteps resume.
Your eyes dart, searching the dense forest, every shadow, every shape that could be him in the night. Spotting another tree not too far away, you run to it, laying yourself against the jagged wood.
âYou know,â Sukuna continues, as if in thought, âI never understood it. How someone could look at me and think, âYes, thatâs what I want.ââ
Thereâs a pause. Your heart pounds into your throat as both your eyes and ears strain.
âDid you think you could change me?â His footsteps pick up again. âThat Iâd return to you after tearing through lives, reeking of blood and skin, just to slip beneath the covers and hold you close? Kiss you like some adoring husbandââ Your brow furrows. ââlay my mouth over yours so you could taste the iron of anotherâs on my tongue? Is that what you were so desperate for? Because I can assure you.â His voice becomes a hiss through clenched teeth. âThe taste of flesh under my teeth is far more satisfying than anything you could have given me.â
It shouldnât hurt to hear him say these things, but it does. Too much. These cruel words break you enough for a sting of tears to threaten your vision.
Taking another step, you back away toward the next cluster of trees.
âDo you remember the first time I touched you?â
You stop.
A quiet breath punches past your lips. You know what heâs doingâgoading you, pushing harder and harder.
Attack him.
âHow hard you shook under my hand. Your cunt so eager, so fucking hungry. Like a starving dog, finally tossed a scrap of meat.â
Hurt bleeds into rage, climbing deeper inside your chest until its grip becomes choking. That moment, so vulnerable and personal, was something shared between you, and now itâs tainted, reduced to lies and fabrications. He had led you somewhere new, uncharted, all while trying to get close to you for this. And you had been trying to get close to him as well so you could kill him.
Both of you, in your own ways, had sought the otherâs demise. Both a betrayal in some way.
More angry tears rise to stand in your eyes, desperate to fall.
âFuck you,â you mutter quietly, taking another stepâthen another, the forest floor whispering underfoot.
Lost in your emotions, you barely notice the ground shifting below you. One more step and your heel catches on something brittle. A sharp jab shoots through the soft arch of your foot, and suddenly, you stumble. Panic as your legs buckle, sending you crashing into the dirt. You land hard on your side, the impact jarring your shoulder.
Shit!
Too loud.
Although heâs already aware of where you are, itâs confirmed when his deep, mocking laugh skitters over you.
âClumsy thing."
Gritting your teeth, you blink down at where youâve fallen and notice the ground isnât just soil and foliage. Pale, jagged and sun-bleached fragments shine dully, sheltered within the earth. Old bones. White and broken, your feet tangled in the remnants of what was once a person's ribcageâone of Sukunaâs offerings, left to rot in his mass grave of devoured humans and animals.
Quickly, you retrieve your feet from the skeletal cavity and ignore the scorch of bile rising up from your belly.
Youâd forgotten about this hellhole.
How could you?
And yet, you canât entirely blame yourself. Heâs been lulling you into a sense of comfort, slowly eroding your carefully guarded walls over time.
Pushing to your elbows, your gaze sweeps the ground again, and something else amongst the bones snags your attention.
An offering. A relic from long ago. A katanaâeither deemed unworthy or simply that it never made its way inside the shrine. Itâs old and rusted, its tip broken, and its edge dull. But itâs still useful.
Hand engulfing the hilt, you grab it and rise to your feet. Crouching low, your fingers grip the tantĆ in your other hand. The katana may feel awkward, but you know it will serve its purpose.
At least, you hope.
Breaths shallow and steady, you circle the nearest tree. The only path forward is to kill him. The only way to get there is to attack.
âThatâs all it took, wasnât it?â Sukunaâs voice edges closer.
âTook what?â you spit, stepping carefully around the roots and bones at your feet. âTell me. Iâm dying to hear more of your arrogant voice.â
Weak and small. Thatâs what he proclaimed you once to be.
But you arenât.
You never thought you were.
Broken, perhapsâbut never weak and never small.
Itâs clear now. Ryomen Sukuna never truly knew who you were then, just as you never truly knew who he was.
And thatâs fine.
If he calls you a snake, then so be it.
Youâre a snakeâhiding in the grass, ready to strike.
âJust a touch,â he says. And you know heâs close now. âA sliver of my attention. And you fell apart like youâd been waiting your whole miserable life for it!â
Your eyes narrow.
Attack him.
You roll your shoulders, steadying your grip.
âSo needy.â
You step closer to his voice.
âYour soul starved.â
Around the trunk, a flash of pink hair.
âDesperate for affection. Desperate for tenderness.â
One breath in. One breath out.
The monster ambles into view, his muscled back to you.
Attack him!
âCome out!â Sukuna growls, anger flaring. âShow me what that affection of yours is worth!â
From out of the darkness, your voice is a shriek of outrage as you lunge toward him.
The katana arcs.Â
Sukuna turns.
Viciousness splits his teeth across his face.
His upper hands snap up, catching the weapon. The impact vibrates through marrow. Jaw clenching, you lean into it, but his grip tightens, his strength cracking the brittle blade.
But you arenât done.
With his focus locked elsewhere, your other hand darts in. The tantĆ glints, and you thrust it forward, aiming for his stomach.Â
But Sukunaâs lower hands move faster than you anticipate. One clamps around your wrist mid-thrust, the other intercepting the blade before it makes contact, the grip crushing the smaller blade from your grasp.
The tantĆ falls. A calculated sacrifice.
Because this was never about the fucking weapons.
When the blade hits the ground, you rotate your wrist inside his hold.
Fingers curving inward just enough, you let them graze along the underside of his forearm. The warmth of his skin against yours is nice, the touch intimate.
For the briefest moment, Sukunaâs entire presence stills.
Eyes cutting forcefully upward, a slow, bitter smile rolls across your lips.
âAnd now youâll know what Iâm capable of,â you snarl.
Your voice doesnât sound human as your energy pours into your fingertips. And when the power does come, it comes faster than ever before. The King of Curses must sense it, too, because the moment he does, he drops your arm and abruptly steps back. You grin, watching as confusion twitches its way across his face before giving in to realization.Â
His arrogance has cost him.
Climbing furiously along his lower left arm, the dappled stain spreads outward from where you touched. He shakes it as if to remove the decay rotting his flesh, and your eyes shine, knowing it will do nothing.
Freedom. Â
At last.
You spit out a laugh, a mad, disjointed cackle.
Threatening red eyes jump to you in response, and without hesitation, the monster lifts his upper right arm, two fingers extending, and he brings it down in one brutal strike.
And severs his own arm.
You blink, watching the limb drop to the ground.
Blood spurts, oozing into the brush as the decay carves out its corrosive path. The flesh blackens, turns rancid, cracking and splitting apart, before the corruption eats the dismembered limb entirely, seeping into the earth.
By the time you drag your reluctant gaze back to Sukuna, all four of his eyes have widened, pupils dilating with something that looks disturbingly like exhilaration. Head tipping back, a shudder courses through him, and all his eyes roll, dark and wild.
Shit.
You step back.
Calm.
You back away.
âI always knew,â he murmurs, voice trembling with a sadistic kind of ecstasy. âThat you were a sickness.â
Another step.
He rolls the stump of his shoulder, regrowing the severed arm. His mouth curves up.
âBut I never knew how much until now.â
Then he moves.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
You hurl the katana at him. He swats it aside like itâs nothing, laughing as it hits the ground.
âYou know, the third time you tried to kill me, when I had my nose shoved against your clit, you went for my head.â He circles two fingers near his temple. âIâll admit, that was clever. The brain is... inconvenient to heal, especially with thatââ he gestures toward your hands. âWhat are we calling it anyway? That nasty little trick of yours?â
You keep stepping back, but he keeps coming.
âA decay of the body,â you state, forcing your voice to sound calm. Â
Sukuna nods, expression stamped into one of enchantment.
âAnd what happens once the rot spreads?â Â
Your eyes dart behind you, ensuring you wonât collide with a tree, before snapping back to him. Â
âThe body canât sustain itself.â Your words climb an octave. âAnd it splits open.â
At âsplits open,â he looks feral.
âOh, my darling!â he practically booms, making you recoil. âYou are fascinating! And to think, I let you get so close to me with those hands of yours.â
Four eyes drag over you, studying you with a primordial stare equal parts appraisal and disgust.
âYet here I am, wonderingâŠâ His teeth grind into a sneer. âIf I should give you another chance to try.â Â
Panic spreads as his muscles tense. His naked torso swells, all four hands clenching and unclenching, ready to attack.
âLetâs see if you can.â
You donât see him move.
In seconds, the distance between you is swallowed, and he arrives with his upper right hand hurtling forward.
Feet pivoting, you twist into a half turn to avoid the strike. A rush of air brushes past your faceâhe just missed. But the next blow is already careening toward your head.
Panicking, you drop into a crouch, narrowly escaping. He corrects his stance, instantly driving his lower left hand toward your stomach.
You roll, dodging. Barely.
Up and thenâ
Left.
Right.
Sideways.
Backwards.
Over.
Under.
Fuck!
It becomes harder to track himâhis speed a blur. And heâs toying with you, the strikes landing everywhere but near your outstretched hands. Your torso. Your chest. Your legs. Yourâ
The ground disappears.
Stomach lurching, youâre whipped into weightlessness, spinning, then crashing back down to the earth.Â
Your body tumbles, rolling over and over and over again until you land hard on your back.
Above, the stars are gone. Around you, fallen leaves and twigs puff out. A moment, and only a high-pitched trill rings inside your ears from the heavy impact.
You lay there, gasping, reeling.
Get. Up.
If you donât, youâll die.
You blink, then push up to your knees, suck in a tight breath, reorient yourself.
Pressure.
You lift your head.
Sukunaâs energy suddenly surges.
Terror, as you realizeâtoo lateâthereâs no time to move.
From out in the dark, you see one of his hands swipe the air.
Then pain.
It cleaves into you, hot enough to sear all the way from tendon to bone to the roots of your teeth.
You look down.
Blink down.
Trying to make sense of what heâs done.
Blood. Sticky and warm. It soaks slowly but vividly through the fabric of your yukata, spreading from the clean slash cut into you from shoulder to collarbone.
âWhoops.â
His chuckle reaches you.
âLooks like I missed.â
Itâs clear heâs done playing.
Lifting a hand, you clap it over the wound.
It hurts.
Fucking hell, it hurts. Â
Fingers trembling, you hold the flayed skin together, desperately trying to stave off the agony.
âYou know what happens now.â Sukunaâs voice brings your chin up, and you find him standing at a distance, the width of the dark forest framing him like a throne.
âIâll take your head next,â he states, his upper right arm extended, the tip of his two fingers pointing toward your neck. âUnless you fight back.â
He starts walking toward you.
âSo fight back.â
You blink at him, trying to decide what to do, and all the while, an ache in your fingers throbs painfully equal to the wound heâs inflicted.
Panic? Or something else?
Eyes dropping to your hands, the discolouration now crawls and licks its way up to your wrists.
Your gaze darts back to Sukuna. Heâs closer now, but he doesnât need to get near to kill youâso why hasnât he done it yet?
âFight back!â he orders, swinging up his arm.
With no time to think, you dive forward, dropping to your hands and knees, and plunging your fingers into the earth.
Youâve never done this before. But itâs your only idea. One stupid, desperate idea you might not even be capable of.
Fingertips groping, you search. Feel. Look.
Most of the vegetation is lifeless. You need something alive for this to work. It has to be alive. You think, you hopeâpanic hinging on the faint memory of that night inside the rocky overhang when you destroyed the moss with a touch.
âCome onâŠâ you whisper, teeth clenched as his footsteps draw nearer, louder.
You donât dare look up. Your eyes stay fixed on your hands, the way they move around through the darkness.
Rock. Dead grass. Broken branches. Fallen leaves. Sap. Soil.
âCome on!â
âHurry up, winter flower.â His voice ahead coos. âElse, Iâll peel back your skin like pretty red petals.â
âShut up!â
Sukuna chuckles.
Shrivelled mushrooms. Damp bark. Dirt and dirt and dirt andâ
Then you feel it. Cool and soft against your skin.
Moss. Alive.
Quickly, so quickly, you focus, flattening your palms and massaging deeper into the network of its body.
Please fucking work!
The connection gushes. Power slides into your veins, lifting every hair along your body. A floodgate thrown wide openâsomething unlike anything youâve felt before.
From where your hands touch, the ground begins to peel away like dead skin.Â
Rot spreads.
Everything alive within its path withers, turning sickly brown, then souring into dust.Â
It keeps going. Spreading.
Plants and brush disintegrate first, followed by the roots of a nearby tree. With its foundation devoured, it crashes to the ground. Then another falls. And another. And another.
Animals scatter in every direction, screaming and swarming away from you in a hopeless attempt to escape. Birds take flight. Mice, rabbits, insectsâanything with legs scrambling through the undergrowthârush to flee as fast as they can.
And it doesnât stop.
The chaotic energy inside you keeps wailing. Uncontrolled and untamed.
But you pour everything into it anyway. All your hatred. All your rage. Take it all and feed it toward him.Â
Because if heâs taught you anything, itâs that anger is a pathway to power.
Isnât it?
As if in a trance, your shoulders undulate and dip. Your hands digging into the earth, breaths short, ragged inhales.
This is what you wanted!
Eyes glazed with euphoria, you look up and find the monster. Heâs grinning, violently wide, stepping back just enough to stay ahead of the outspread.
âGood girl. Thatâs it!â He steps lightly, heavy body agile within the chaos. âShow me more. Keep going!â
Confusion paints your expression at his unexpected praise. More than that, the look on his face. He looks pleased, ecstatic, delighted... almost proud. Proud of what youâve done, of what youâre doing. Itâs so disorienting and contradicting that you donât even notice when the decay slows, its frenzied path tapering out until it stops completely.
The grin on his face vanishes, replaced by a deep frown.
All at once, heâs moving toward you, feet treading through the fractured destruction youâve just caused.
Moonlight filters through the remaining trees, slicing in pieces and illuminating the powerful lines of his body.
A warning rings out inside your mind.
âI said, show me more of you!â
Before you can move, he reaches where you kneel and bends down. Snatching your wrists, he wrenches your hands from the soil with his lower hands and lifts you up in his grasp.
âFuck you!â you spit as he deliberately pushes your fingers into clenched fists, his massive hands engulfing yours, ensuring you canât touch him.
Shoulder screaming in pain, you thrash uselessly against the hold, powerless to free yourself.
Suddenly, his upper left hand clamps around your head. Palm pressing into your face, two fingers part just enough to keep your view unobstructed while the others dig painfully into your jaw.
âWhen I tell you to show me,â he snarls, his voice deep and cruel, âyou show me!â
Before you can respond, something tugs sharply at your yukata, yanking you forward and forcing your back into an arch.
Through the narrow gap between his fingers, you see his maw has opened and is dragging the fabric inward between its massive teeth. Â
A feeble cry of rage flies from your mouth, muffling against his palm, legs kicking wildly in the air.
He laughs.
âI wonder what youâll taste like, crushed inside there,â he hums, then pauses.
The pull grows stronger. Your body edges closer. His laughter grows more manic. You can see him glaring at you through the outlines of his fingers.Â
âWe can find out. Unless you do something.â
The maw drags you in further, its massive teeth grazing the softness of your hip.
You frantically wiggle your hands, trying to move a finger, any of them.
Nothing.
Panic.
âI hate you!â you shout, your voice ripping through the night, loud enough to echo.
Sukunaâs mouth twitches, throat turning solid. For a moment, you want to look away, but you canât. Something quiet passes across his features, making your heart stagger. You canât name it, and you donât care. It vanishes like everything else.
âYou hate me?â he says flatly before his face darkens. âSpeaking of hate as though youâve truly tasted it. What a sacrifice you must have endured.â He leans in while pulling your face closer with his palm. âIâve fucking despised you for seven long years!â
Another yank. You shriek at him, kick your feet aiming for anything. Dampness soaks your legs. Something wet slides across your thigh. The large tongue presses against your exposed skin through a tear in the fabric.
Your rage mutates, reforms and takes shape.
It's becoming difficult to breathe.
You thrash violently, but Sukuna doesnât let go.
A strange pricking sensation needles along your hands. With his hand clamped tightly over your face, itâs not something you can see.
But you feel it.
A pulse.
It picks outward and moves, pushing further this timeâflowing through your hands and into somewhere else. You arenât sure, but it stings along your skin.
The King of Cursesâ grip suddenly loosens with a growl. His fingers release you, and you drop to the ground on your backside, gasping and coughing for air.Â
Looking up, you see the maw with a strip of fabric pinched between its teeth, but the smell of decay has your eyes shooting up. Rot spreads rapidly along Sukunaâs lower arms. The flesh splits, devouring him.
You donât care how you managed to pull it off, and you donât wait to see what happens, either. You know whatâs coming. Heâll dismember his own limbs to stop it.
Scrambling to your feet, you turn and run.
Get back to the shrine.
Hopefully, now that heâs seen what youâre capable of, the vow is fulfilled.
This will grant you time to get away and maybe enough space to head to the stables, collect Ayana and escape this place.
Sprinting through the trees, weaving around rocks, the blood from your shoulder taps steadily to the ground. Your desperate gait carries you quickly, and slowly, the shrine comes into view, peeking through the crowded trunks of trees.
Bursting out of the forest, you make it into the garden, clambering onto a stone path, before you feel him.
Energy. Pressure. Right at your back.
No!
You try to move for cover, but suddenly, youâre hunching over with your breath torn away.
Another sharp slice carves through your body, this time, across your lower back. The fabric resting there, and the skin, shredded.
Mouth agape, you canât breathe, the cry of pain lost somewhere inside your throat.
Drip, drip, drip.
Warm blood trickles down your backside, winding in slow currents between your thighs before pooling at your feet.
You stop moving, teeter on your heels, unbalanced by the force of the strike.
There was no hesitation behind that cut. But still, he hasnât gone for the killing blow. Not yet. Though, like this, you might bleed out before he gets the chance.
Blinking rapidly, you force yourself to move.
You have to.
Because if youâre going to die, it will be inside his shrine, cursing him and this place to hell with one final breath of your lungs.
The slow drag of your legs across Sukunaâs private garden is agonizing, each step a nauseating limp.
When you reach the verandah, you know heâs behind you. You can hear the full weight of his feet.
Pushing yourself up the steps and into his chambers, you bang the door shut behind you. Staggering through the darkened room, you move toward the door leading to the corridor, the passage youâve walked through so many times, and reach for it.
Where would be the best place to bleed out?
Itâs a morbid thought, but the idea of Uraume or Ren having to scrape your broken body off the floor brings a twisted sense of satisfaction.
Because theyâre all liars.
All of them.
But none more than the abomination at your back.
Palms outstretched, you reach the door. Your hands, now clear from the discolouration of rot, touch the wood just as the garden door behind you falls open.
You donât hear Sukuna step inside.Â
Heâs silent.
But the silence lasts for only seconds.
âFuga.â
Inside the room, the silver-blue moonlight scattered across the walls is swallowed by a sudden eruption of firey red. Warmth explodes, spreading across your body and sinking deep into the wounds and cold sweat at your back.
Eyes falling shut, you still, dropping your hands limply to your sides.
From your dreams or, rather, memories, you already know what awaits you. Divine flames. Hot and burning with the intent to kill.
How is it that after all of thisâafter everything youâve done just to protect your sisterâthis is how itâs supposed to end?
The sacrifice youâve made. The bullshit youâve endured.
When will it stop?
Because youâre tired.Â
So damn tired.
Blood pitting against the floor, you slowly turn. The blazing arrow, aimed directly at your chest, illuminates the night from the garden door where itâs been drawn. Its angry glow reflects the fury of the demon wielding it.
Blinking at all that orange and all the red flickering embers before you, you let out a soft, panicked laugh.
Sukuna draws back further, twisting his forearm, the tension in his body visible as he lifts his chin.
From where you stand across the room, you swallow, straighten, and mimic his motion, tilting your head upward to try and meet his gaze. Dying while staring into those familiar red eyes seems a fitting end.
A heartbeat passes.
Then two.
Chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, you continue to stand there and wait. Â
And wait. Â
And wait.Â
And nothing happens. Â
He doesnât release it.
He declared you were to die here tonight.
So, why hasn't he released it?
A muscle pulses in his jaw while his nostrils flare. Upper right elbow cocking rigid, he pulls the arrow back furtherâevery tendon standing out against the red glow, the flames shuddering under the weight of his power. Â
Again, you brace yourself, expecting to feel the heat of it lancing through your body, flesh burning from bone. And stillânothing.Â
Your mouth tightens with frustration. Â
âIf youâre going to do it, then do it already!â you snarl, hands locking into fists.
A pause.
You wait.
With renewed fury, his eyes harden.
And back, and back, and back he pulls.
Clarity gathers.
A thousand moments stretch out in a single heartbeatâterrible ones. Â
Your father shouting, striking you. The cat you accidentally killed under your hand at nine. Waking to the bloody remains of your mother and unborn sibling after touching her. Meeting the King of Curses on the dirt-packed road. The blade in the dark as Sayuri stabbed into you. Onishiâs eyes, cold and cruel. All the nightmares of your sister being violated because of your failureâand all the ones that followed.
You blink, refocusing on the man before you. Watch him hold your life in his hands and force yourself to think of everything else.
Falling asleep warm and safe next to your mother. Your sisterâs smile, her words dragging you from the darkest corners of your life. Uraumeâs quiet care when you were at your most vulnerable. Strolling through the shrineâs blooming garden with Ren. Ayana, riding her, the cool breeze on your face when she runs.
And still, always last.
All of Sukunaâs hands on you for the first timeâthe way it felt, the way you didnât agonize over someoneâs touch, his body close to yours. His hands healing you after Sayuriâs assault, and every time after. The look on his faceâthe fury, the concernâdespite his claim to feel nothing.
The flames before you collapse, hissing and dissipating to nothing. They die out. The room returns to cool darkness, smoke lingering for a moment, then curling out the garden door and into the night. The King of Curses lowers his arms to his sides.Â
You blink. Furrow your brow. Confused. Angry. Annoyed. Frustrated.
He canât.
âI knew it,â you breathe, shifting in the bloody slick forming at your feet. âYou canâtâŠâ
You pause. Blink again. Try to tame your heart that beats too loudly.
âAll these hesitations, the declaration to kill meâŠâ
Another pause.
âYou canât do it,â you say, tilting your head gently, pitying him. âCan you?â
Sukuna says nothing, but his red eyes narrow to dangerous slits.
You take a small step forward.
âYou are a hypocrite.â
Another step.
âSpineless.â
One more.
âJust like everyone you claim to be beneath you.â Your voice is quiet before it rises with the hammering pulse inside your veins. âYou are fucking coward, Ryomen Sukuna!â you finish in a wild shout, teeth bared.
If ever there was a mistake you couldnât take back, it was now.
Gone is the hesitation in his eyes, replaced only by aggression. Feet padding softly, you back away as if that look has seared into you. Seared and burned away that hesitation.
From across the room, his powerful legs and gait carry him toward you. In an instant, he barrels into you, wrenching a cry from your lungs. His lower hands seize your wrists, yanking and bending them so your fingers are tucked into the small of your back, unable to touch.Â
âYou are an affliction. One that should be dead a thousand times over!â he snarls, towering over you, eyes wide open as if he's finally realized something terrible.
His full weight crashes down against you as his upper right hand wraps around your throat and squeezes.
âThen why arenât I!?â You suck down a ragged breath, fighting against the pressure.
âQuiet!â
When his hold tightens, the veins in his forearm flex and his eyesâso very dark in the dim roomâlock onto yours.
âIâll just have to crush the life out of you.â
With a violent push, you lurch forward, closing the remaining space. Grip tightening, his face dips toward yours, so near you can see the fine striations in his red irises. So close, the rings in his eyes appear endless, their depths pulling inward. His pupils darken, absorbing the silver-blue light, and in them, you see your own reflection. Â
But itâs not just your face you read in that gaze. Itâs everything else. Â
Hatred. Anger. Hunger. Desire. Want.
The pain of wanting. A longing so consuming that your heartbeat stumbles and falls still.
Against all reason, your chin tilts upward, inviting something you canât quite name, but you, too, feel that longing. And everything else. Every raw, visceral emotion youâve felt these last few months burns between you like fire.
Sukunaâs grip tightens further. Your throat aches, his fingers jab in, his brow twitching with rage. It creases, hardens, then softens.
And you hate that, hate this duality between him.
Hate it.
Hate all of it.
The confusion. The hurt. The desperation. The torment. The need.
âDo it already!â Agony catches your shout coming out as a strangled hiss.
It falls quiet save for your struggling breaths for air and his heavy breathing. The King of Curses stares down at you with those void, demonic eyes of his, his weight pressing you harder into the floor.
âIf we hate each other so much, then finish it!â Your glare clashes with his widening sneer. âKill me! Iâm tired of this. Iâm tired of you! So release me from this cursed fucking union!â
His fingers dig deeper, harder, crueller, thumb moulding firmly against your windpipe. Darkness creeps along the edges of your vision.
Trembling, your lashes shudder. Trembling, you try to breathe.
His gaze narrows, his bare torso heaving, nostrils flaring. All four of his eyes drop to your lips.
Your mouth parts in a final, desperate attempt to inhale.
And thenâ
Exhale.
But it doesnât come. Itâs gone, cut off, swallowed.
A snarl rips from Sukuna's chest as he surges forward, hauling you closer, crushing you against him. The hand squeezing your throat releases, only to bury violently into your hair, fingers gripping the back of your head and yanking you to him. Your eyes widen, you tense, lips nearly brushing his, but he stops, just barely.
A moment of resistance.
Like all the other times before.
You lock eyes, faces so close, mouths parted you feel his breath mingling with yours. Your hearts pound in unison, chests heaving, panting. A small, involuntary whimper escapes your throat, and Sukunaâs jaw clenches tightly in response.
Then, madness takes over.
His mouth slams down while you push up on your toes to reach for him. The desperation, the fury, the needâitâs all-consuming. The pain in your body, the wounds, the exhaustion. Gone.
They all fade to nothing as your starving mouths finally find each other and seal together.
Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, smau, pre-relationship, cursing, nsfw (tojiâs), mdni
An: i just want to make it clear that the picture toji sends is NOTHING dirty. itâs actually a screenshot from love and deepspace, but you can pretend LOL
Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna
So glad I got to meet so many awesome people in the last six months because of this story :) you all make it worth it.
Hereâs a quick lil sketch of Sukuna for next chapter that I did quickly tonight. Yes, we are going full out and fighting him, (finally), good luck :D
Content warning: Sukuna POV, blood, mentions of wounds, mentions of mass death, cannibalism.
đ Songs for this chapter:
The Arrival - Jan J. MoÄnik
Sanctified - Nine Inch Nails
* * * * *
Chapter 30
* * * * *
Seven years agoâŠ
The sky warns of a coming calamity, staining the northern horizon red.
A fire scorches the land, rolling over thatched roofs, devouring trees, destroying homes, swallowing lives. It moves like a living thing, yet the ground it leaves behind is dead. Bodies lie together in mounds, scattered like refuse, littering the soil, choking the grass in every direction.
Some manage to drag themselves free from the burning wreckage and crawl. But they struggle, mouth agape and wailing in agony, their charred skin peels away from the bone like melting tallow.
From his seat, crossed-legged on a cool patch of green, the King of Curses watches. He watches them struggle. He watches while he eats. And as he eats, he waits.
It has only taken him hours, leading into the summer night, to lay waste to three villages in succession. Soon, this nameless village in the north will be nothing. Soon, it will vanish, and he will destroy one final place before returning south, his retribution complete.
Clutching at the mutilated corpse of a woman with his lower hands, Sukuna lifts the meat and rips off a chunk of fat. Heâs been gorging all day, yet hunger still leaves him empty. Dissatisfied by the lack of resistance and bored with the idea that this would all end here today.
He tears off another bite.
Blood crawls its way down his chin, and the maw on his stomach opens, the tongue rolling out to catch any stray pieces of stringy flesh and bits that donât make it down his throat.
Bite and swallow.
Swallow and wait.
On and on and on.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
The desperate slap of tiny feet against the ground catches his ears. He pauses, fingers flexing around the soft mound of the bodyâs torso. His apathetic upper eyes remain fixed ahead, but he dips his chin, angling his lower pair toward the noise disrupting his meal.
Two children rush out from the cloud of smoke, coughing, and hand in hand, they skid to a halt under his scarlet gaze. Their soot-streaked faces glisten, tracks of tears falling from their wide eyes round like moons. Behind them, the fire roars, casting shadows that stretch unnaturally long, as if they belong to adults instead. Trembling and alone, they freeze, hoping to slip past the monster unnoticed.
The King of Curses only stares, chews, and then swallows. One child sniffles, then blinks, shuffling on burned feet. The sting of smoke pulls more tears to their eyes while the other openly weeps, tugging urgently at their companionâs hand.
Tch. Pathetic.
Sukuna doesnât move. He simply eats and watches, blood bubbling up from his mouth and dripping down to the grass.
âWhat the hell are you looking at?â he mutters, his words lost, muffled by the stomach lining lodged between his teeth. âLeave.â
The children donât wait; they take it as a sign to flee and bolt, their footsteps retreating into the collective dim. Sukuna doesnât spare them another glance but listens to the frantic murmur of their escape, the sniffling and sobbing.
âNoisy fucking brats,â he huffs, their cries fading into the distance.Â
Children were always obnoxiously loud in his presence, always crying and trembling and screaming like little pests buzzing at his ears. Their inquisitive stares and nascent ideas about his âugly maskâ and extra limbs irritate him like an itch.
Canines tearing into another bit of flesh, he watches the massive fire rage before him, painting his skin in colours of a sunsetâfiery reds, molten oranges, and streaks of gold dancing across the night.
He keeps eating.
Eating, chewing, swallowing, watching, waiting.
Seconds stretch into minutes, then minutes into an hour.
The blaze grows, the masses of bodies blacken, and soon, they foul the air into a thick putrid stench.
Impatience settles over him. This was taking too long. A fire of this scale, the magnitude of slaughter impressive enough that it should have dragged a vulture from its nest. Â
Still, heâs forced to wait. But when the moon squats high, and half the womanâs body in his grasp has been consumed, Sukuna pauses. His bare chest and sirwal soaked in gore. Â
The scream of a horse fractures the night. He lifts his head, ears tracking the sound. Â
Then comes another shrill whine. Â
And another. Â
And another.
And another.
These are uneasy shrieks, cutting through from beyond the treeline to his right. There lies the untouched forest, free from his carnage, its shadows providing the perfect cover for cowards. Â
His smile twists into something ugly. Â
The snake, Kasai Takuma, has finally arrived, and his reputation precedes him. Sukuna knows heâs there, with his other clansmen, refusing to come close, choosing only to observe from a distance. Â
Theyâve likely never laid eyes on anything like him before. Few ever had. And when they do, itâs always the same.
Disgust. Disgust at the impurity of his body. Revulsion at his abnormalities. An ill omen to be titled and cursed. A language of violenceâone he knows very well.
Rolling the torso off his lap, Sukuna stands, sliding a hand through his hair before he stretches, his neck cracking. All four of his eyes turn skyward to the inky black curve of the world, tinged bright where it dips toward the earth.
He inhales a breath.
If Kasai is here, then his estate is unguarded, which means his familyâhis wife and two daughters are alone. Perfect. Let a hand reach out in the dark and strip this man of everything, beginning with the woman carrying his next heir.
His feet are already moving.
Using the play of shadow and smoke for cover, Sukuna picks his way unnoticed through the mess at his feet. He slips away to where his mount waits, tethered in silence and from there, he rides off.
* * * * *
The clop of hooves on mossy ground is a dull beat that accompanies him as he guides his horse through the forest north toward the compound, taking only the backroads. Gaining information on the snake had been fairly easy, especially given how guarded Takuma has been about certain aspects of his life. Still, knowing a man capable of inhibiting anotherâs body with a simple switch of his brain has proven useful. Though, Sukuna doesnât doubt heâll owe a debt one day.
After some time, he reigns in his mount to a stop. If he plans to descend upon the estate, he prefers to keep the animal at a distance, away from the chaos to come.
Dismounting, he tethers it to a low-hanging branch of a tree, giving it a pat before turning away. Ahead, through the brush, a river glimmers silver and winding through the verdant dim. Sirwal already ruined, Sukuna walks toward it and pushes in. Bare feet sinking into the soft silt of the riverbed, he exhales, savouring the coolness lapping at his legs.
Nature has always fascinated him. Years without a home taught him to depend on its offerings. Plants, animals, and flowers. They all possess a dual powerâthey can provide aid and comfort or bring suffering and death, their beauty often concealing their danger.
Stepping in deeper, the water sloshes lazily around his ankles before rising to submerge his calves. He glances down, watching the ripples spread outward, tiny waves shining with the refracted light of stars and the pustular moon peeking through the lush canopy above.
Among the reflections, his four eyes glow like coals shoved into a pit and left to burn. He blinks down at his distorted visage, then crouches, the movement pulling the scent of fire and blood from the fabric of his garment.
Cupping his upper hands into the glassy surface, he lets the cool liquid tickle his skin before lifting them. He takes a sip, washing away the traces of iron still clinging to his tongue. Swallowing, he dips his head for a second taste, his forehead brushing against the cup formed by his fingers.
A prickle spreads across his skin. He pauses, feeling it again, stronger this time.
His lower eyes slip downward, tracing the sudden goosebumps rising unnaturally along his forearms and creeping higher.
Odd.
Dropping the water, he runs a fingertip over the raised flesh. Itâs not the chill of the river causing it.
Itâs something else.
Thereâs a change in the airâa faint hum, a low buzz, a pressure steadily building, trembling, climbing higher and higher, eating away at him like a disintegration as though something bottled up is about to shatter into a thousand tiny, little pieces.
It commands his attention.
All of it.
Rare.
The goosebumps begin to crawl higher and faster, spreading up his arms, across his chest, down his back, and along his spine. A sensation like warm fingers gliding across skin. Thereâs only surprise when, for a heartbeat, all four of his eyes roll back.Â
He clenches his jaw.
His focus sharpens.
The sensation intensifies.
It builds.
And builds.
And builds.
Andâ Â
CRACK!Â
The world vibrates with such a force it momentarily disrupts every thought inside his head.
The King of Curses quickly rises from the water, river droplets splattering off him, smacking loudly onto the surface. He tips his head. A bit of concentration, and thereâa sense of direction. The source. Â
In an instant, he moves. Fast. Â
Feet punching into the undergrowth, he goes, almost entirely forgetting after all these years what heâs truly here for. But whatever the hell is causing this, he wants to indulge in it. He wants to crush it into the ground, to consume it entirely, watch it burn as bright as it possibly can, and then see it snuff out.Â
Further and further, he moves north, trees rushing past, rocks, and brush, everything a blur. Following the energyâs pattern is simple enough. Whoever it is has no control over it. It's leaking off in irritating waves, pulling, subsiding, and then crashing down against him again and again. Â
When it leads him to what appears to be the limestone barrier marking the edge of a compound, he slows. Itâs gaudy enough, matching the description he was given as Kasai. But Kenjaku revealed nothing about a sorcerer being present.
Slipping into the shelter of a grove cut from dense foliage, Sukuna moves closer to the back of the estate, but his brow furrows. The source of the energy is barreling straight toward him. A falling star on a collision course.
His pulse begins to thrum in rhythm with it, the pressure nudging him forward, urging him. He only takes one more step before a girl, barefoot and covered in blood, crashes through the yews, forcing him to pull back into the bramble and mask himself.
A distant, urgent voice follows after her, another coming, anotherâs energy. Not one but two sorcerers.
Dipping into the shadows, Sukuna stays close to the trunks until he reaches a break and sinks low into the undergrowth, crouching on his haunches.
At last, he sees them.Â
The bloodied one sobs uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking, while the other leans close, murmuring softly and running her hands through her hair. As he studies their features, the similarities become clearâtheir hair, the sound of their voices, the shared mannerisms.
Siblings.
Sisters.
Daughters.
Kasaiâs daughters.
Tilting his head, he smirks. Fate, in all its befitting glory, can be such a cruel bitch.
Keeping his gaze on the sobbing oneâwhich he considers the pathetic of the two, he watches as she suddenly pulls away from the otherâs embrace.Â
A few more soft words are spoken before thereâs a swell in energy. The comforting one cups the otherâs face, her thumbs tracing across her cheeks gently.
âNo more tears, sister,â she soothes.Â
Instantly, the pitiful oneâs sobs come to an abrupt halt.
Interesting.
A single touch, a few words, and the other bends completely to her will. Such a subtle, devious skill and quite the weapon for a woman finding her footing in this world.
The sound of horses and men approaching in the distance calls their attention. Sukuna inclines his head. It appears he will have more than a family to slaughter now. He might as well take the entire clan down tonight.
Between the two girls, a few more words are exchanged, and thereâs another throb of energy.
Itâs clear that the comforting one knows exactly what sheâs doing. Sheâs had monthsâyearsâof practice. Enough to perfect her methods because whatever sheâs done, sheâs left traces of herself all over her sister. Residuals of her will, twisting and breaking the girlâs mind, moulding her into an obedient, dutiful mutt. Something small. Something smothered.
A siblingâs love.
How traitorous a thing.
Red eyes piercing into the dark, the King of Curses watches the persuasive one retract her fingers and slip away, retreating back inside the barrier. She leaves behind the otherâthis crying, broken creature before him. And slowly, she begins to unravel further, descending into a pit of delirium.
âI killed her⊠I killed herâŠâ
From where she stands below the moonlit trees, the first muttered confession spills out.
Disgust crawls across his face as he watches.
But then, it gets worse.
Her movements become erratic, her pacing uneven, hair falling over her features and hiding the tears he knows are there. Gaze tracking her, he follows the curve of her feet pressing into the grass, counting each time she turns.
One.
Turn. Pace. Turn again.
Two.
âI killed herâŠâ
Turn. Pace. Turn again.
Three.
âI killed herâŠâ
Madness licks at her heels.
So what if she had killed someone? Looking at her now, she seems incapable of such an act unless sheâd been forced to. And thatâs what he can sense all over her. Sheâs been manipulatedâa girl who might have sought affection but was left with only a hollow imitation of it.
âI killed her⊠I killed herâŠâ
He clicks his tongue, irritation rising as she becomes mindless.
This? This was what had drawn him here? A sick, rabid animal that should be put out of its fucking misery.
Turn. Pace.
All that untapped power trapped inside such a wretched, fragile girl, so easily controlled despite it.
Turn again.
She is undeserving. Untalented. Worthless.
Turn.
Sukuna stands.
Pace.
He takes a step.
Crack!
The branch at his foot splits the quiet like snapping bones.
She freezes.
And for half a heartbeat, so does he.
It falls silent.
Eventually, she turns, lifting her gaze to meet him directly. And finally, he sees youâyour mouth, your eyes, your face.Â
Everything.
Pulling free from the shadows, he steps into the groveâs clearing. Heel to toe, his feet whisper over the cool grass as he closes the distance, steady, unhurried, his four eyes never leaving your countenance.
At this moment, there are three things Ryomen Sukuna knows with absolute certainty.
First, you arenât running. Whatever compulsion your sister has eating away at you, it keeps you rooted in place. Lucky for him. Second, even now, drenched in tears, gore, and blood, you are, against all reason⊠lovely. Third, a terrible chasm has just opened inside him, and it can only be filled by one thing.
âFuga.â
Like a hearth breathing to life, heat bursts and takes shape within his palms, coalescing into a blaze that he twists and sharpens. His upper arm flexes, shoulder rolling back as he drags it tight into an arrow. His stance is solid, his grip firm, his aim locked on you.
There is no sympathy. Not for your father. Not for your sister. Not for your mother.
Especially not for you.
The arrow is drawn back further, his hand brushing the underside of his jaw, all four eyes fixed on his target.
A single breath in.
A single breath out.
Release.
And yet, a thread claws at the edges of his mind, snagging, pulling, refusing to be ignored.
He cannot release it.
The very idea sickens him, and his mouth pulls back into a sneer, his shoulders bunching as his muscles coil and strain.
He draws back again, further with more force so that the fire trembles, embers snapping and scattering like shards of glass.
Draw. Aim. Exhale.
Release.
But he hesitates.
This should be simple.
So why does his hand falter?
Youâre the daughter of a man who has taken from him. A bastard who reshaped his world before he even entered it. Now, that same kindness will be returned.
He draws back again. Further. Further.
Through the sweltering blaze, your wide eyes meet his, their shining surface reflecting the glow of the flames.
Red, red, red.
He huffs.
Lowering his arms, the fire dies at his sides, leaving the air charged with lingering heat. His mouth twists into a faint pout, frustration of a different kind winding its way through his body.
âPerhaps taking its head is the answer,â he grumbles before walking towards you.
Muscles straining, he moves closer until heâs in arms reach, scarlet gaze mapping every part of you. Your robe is soaked in blood, clinging to your frame, spattered with viscera. Whatever youâve done, it was messy.
Badum, badum, badum.
The pulse at your neck jumps, the only sign youâre growing nervous. Otherwise, youâre stillâfrozen in place, barely daring to breathe.
When he reaches you, he crosses his upper arms over his chest, tilting his head. Compared to him, youâre a mere wisp of a thing, this frail creature standing before him.
Slowly, Sukuna falls to his haunches, his knees spreading to cage you between them. His lower arms rest on his thighs while the upper pair remain crossed, looming above.
âSo patheticallyâŠÂ small,â he murmurs while looking into your eyes, which are wide and unfocused in the murk. Perhaps a side effect of what your sister has done.
Cocking his head, he reaches out with his lower left hand, pinching your jaw and lifting your face for a better look.
âBut look at these glittering eyes of yours,â he coos, mockingly. âSo much emotion trapped behind them.â
His thumb brushes along your chin, skirting upward, avoiding the path of your tears. The touch is absurdly lightâabsurd because gentleness is foreign to him.
He has never touched anyone like this before.
You should be dead by now. Dead because that was the promise he made to himself long ago.
All of the Kasai family. Gone.
Wet lashes falling downward, Sukuna notices your eyes dropping to your hemline. Following your attention, he sees the bloody feet of yours. Where his feet are placed on either side, he can swallow you whole.
âLittle indeed,â he smirks, brushing a streak of gore from the sleeves of your yukata before licking the blood from his fingertips. âLooks like your hands took the life of another, havenât they?â
The truth is obvious from the deranged mutterings he heard earlier. I killed her⊠I killed her.
Thereâs a nod, the movement of your head stunted and small.
âWho?â he asks, voice silk-wrapped, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, curving a finger down the cartilage.
To his surprise, you shiver and relax slightly, though your eyes still blink dumbly, and you shift on your feet as if eager to run, but he knows you canât.
âMother.â Itâs only an utterance, and he barely catches it, sounding more like a plea than anything else.
Looming in the distance, the noises of the returning horses and men swell, making you spin your head in that direction.
A decision needs to be made. Now.
Sukunaâs gaze lifts. All he can hear is your racing heart, screaming to hide. His eyes dance back to you before nudging your attention on him again.
âWhat has she done to you, hm?â he mumbles, swiping his thumb along your temple. He watches your eyes grow heavy, comforted once more by such a small, insignificant touch.
Strange.
Someone with this much power is not meant to cower or be afraid.
You should be like him.
You could be like him.
If given a chanceâbut here, you never will.
A flower unable to flourish will wither and die, and he wonders what you might become if allowed to bloom. Not smothered. Not kept small. Somewhere else, perhaps. Elsewhere in time.
âFlower of the northâŠâ he muses, rising slowly to tower over you. âSo easy to crush, and yet so beautiful.â
With footsteps approaching, he knows the other daughter is coming. Her power saturates the air in thick waves. Fingers, he does not want touching him.
Peering down, he takes one last look at you before stepping away, leaving you behind.
For now.
But his plans have reshaped, folding into something new. In timeâyears, perhapsâheâll find you again. And when he does, heâll ensure that this decision to let you live will be worth far more than it is now.
* * * * *
PresentâŠ
âWhy were you there that night?â
The wood of the verandah creaks beneath Sukunaâs weight as he steps outside. A cooler breeze has replaced the warmth from earlier in the day, its force rattling through the trees surrounding the shrine, lifting the edges of his sirwal and hair.
Ignoring your question, he continues walking, descending the steps into his private garden. Dry, brittle grass crackles at the soles of his feet.Â
âAnswer me!â
Your voice hits his back again, louder this time, not tampered down by the wind. Not tampered down by anything anymore.
âSukuna!â
His name. Not my Lord.
He stops walking.
He always did like the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Thereâs always a hesitation to it, as if youâre unsure how to wield it. And when you do, it always comes paired with an emotionâpleasure, submission, anger. Like now.Â
Itâs refreshing, really, to have all the pretenses stripped away. With niceties gone, everything laid bare, he can see what you truly are.
Finally.
He turns.
In the doorway to his chambers, you still look so small compared to him, just as you did the first time you met. But now, the pale fabric of your yukata, swallowed by the dim and streaked red where he cut you, gives you a fierceness you didnât possess then. And in that, he has given you a gift you arenât even aware of. He tore you from your family, and look at you nowâsneaking into his chambers in the dead of night, seeking his ruin. Once, you were nothing. Now youâre finally coming into your own.Â
âTo kill the Kasai lineage so I could taste your father's suffering,â he states calmly. âThat meant ending you, your sister, your mother, and the unborn maggot growing inside her.â Â
Thereâs a pause.
A gust of wind hurls itself between the two of you.Â
âWhy?â Â
Your voice is quiet, trembling at the edges, but his gaze slides from your lips to your eyes, catching the moment the last traces of affection for him empty and die.Â
Good.
They were only a useless collection of emotions anyway. Â
Your hate and violenceâthatâs what he wants. And now, heâll have them tenfold. Unlike before, when you buried them under restraint. There were always flashes of fury, but nothing like what heâll see now. Youâll leave this world not sobbing, not pleading, but fighting. And heâll be the one to give you that ending.
âBecause your father deserved to have his life stripped away,â he replies coolly, crossing his upper arms over his chest. âHe was a sickness that killed the land and left others to rot in lives they did not choose.â
âSo all of thisâŠâ You step onto the verandah, your hands curling into fists, your left tightening around the tantĆ you retrieved from the floor. â...this unionâŠâ
He watches you take a breath, then blink as confusion and desperation start to ease into anger.
âWhat the hell do you want from all of this!?â
âYou!â Sukuna snarls loudly.Â
Your mouth curls into a nasty smile before inclining your chin.
âMe?â you grind out.
âYou. You were the one thing keeping me from taking everything apart that night,â he growls, striding toward the steps where you stay rooted at the top of them. âNot because I couldnât kill you, but because I wanted to. I wanted to rip you apart, scatter the pieces, and let the earth swallow you whole. But I couldnât. Something in you clawed at me, wrapped itself around my lungs, and squeezed. And donât misunderstand,â he spits, eyeing you up and down. âItâs not affection. Thereâs a power in you begging to be unearthed. A fire smothered by hands that keep you small, blind to anything beyond the obedient bitch youâve always been."
He knows you wonât believe him if he tells you about your sister. Force-feeding you the truth never works. But your reaction to Yunaâs name always amuses him. The first time he mentioned her, your energy flaredâbriefly, beautifullyâbefore you fled instead of fought. That was when he chose a different tactic: to learn you, find your weaknesses, exploit them.
âYouâll show me that tonight.â He gestures to the space between you two before he turns and saunters into the garden. âIâll be the one to drag it out of you.â
Laughter hits his back, and he turns to see your head tipped back, howling like a damn animal as you slowly make your way down the steps.
âAll I got from that nonsense,â you say, pausing to catch your breath and stifle your laughter, âis that youâre fucking insane!â
âAm I?â he snaps, anger flaring in his eyes. âLook at yourself! Seven years ago, two months even, you were nothing. Weak. Small. But now, standing in my chambers, staring me down, demanding answers. Youâve grown. I took you because I wanted to see what you could become, away from that wretched family of yours.â
But the truth, still buried deep where he canât fully face it, is that heâs been drowning in you for months, maybe years. And itâs been far too long.
He knows too much now.Â
He knows all the little things you like. How you light up when he stares at you just a moment too long, when others might feel discomfort, but youâve grown to revel in it. How you study him, your eyes tracing his form when you think he isnât looking. How badly you want to touch the right side of his face, your gaze always drifting there, trying to decide what it is. He knows how much you crave his touch. He knows how nervous youâve become around him, your hands fidgeting as if to distract yourself from desires you refuse to admit.
A distraction.
That was it.
You are a distraction.
Ending your life will finally bring air back into his lungs. Because heâs been submerged in you for far too long, tangled in your human emotionsâemotions he should have left alone.
Once youâre goneâafter all, it was you who took both your parentsâperhaps heâll finally hunt down Yuna. Then again, he wouldnât be surprised if that serpent slithers her way here once she hears of what happens tonight. Because he knows what sheâs been up toâcarving her own path, gathering alliances, likely manipulating her way into the three major clans and climbing even higher.
Eventually, sheâll come for him. They all will.
And once again, you are the distraction he doesnât need or want when that happens.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of your footsteps pulls his thoughts back. Padding softly down the stairs, then muffled by the grass, they carry you closer until you come to stand before him.Â
Sukunaâs top lip curls back, and he steps forward, closing the space between you in a single stride. Toe to toe, his upper arm rises, fingers trailing to the wound along your jaw. Not wanting his opponent to bleed out too soon, he presses two fingers against it.
Four eyes crashing into yours, he slowly swipes along the wound, feeling you tense under his touch and the sting of his healing.
âAs I said,â he whispers, his hand falling to his side, flexing once at the lingering sensation. âYou die here tonight.â
He crosses the garden, putting distance between you before turning back, anticipation threading through his body.
âEither you let the vow kill you for refusing, or you show me, just once, what you can do. Besides, you should be honoured by this privilege.â
You say nothing, and he waits, staring at you. Staring at the tantĆ heâd given you, gripped so tightly in your hand that your knuckles have turnedâ
He squints.
From knuckles to fingertips, a web of vein-like discolouration climbs up your hands. A sign your energy is spilling out in erratic bursts, and you donât even understand how to control it.
He chuckles.
What would happen if he let you touch him with those fingers of yours?
Heartbeat pounding in his teeth, Sukuna feels his blood sliding through his veins, thick, like molten iron.
Oh, heâs going to enjoy this.
âWell?â he croons, flaring his eyes and rolling his neck casually. âLet's get this over with. Iâm eager to see you drip red for me again.â
Gaze leaping to your face, he watches for any sign of anger dancing across your eyes. Thereâs still so much of it buried there, aching to be unleashed.
He can help with that, using the intimacy heâs pried from you as a weapon. Like a flowerâbeautiful on the surface, until the petals are stripped away, leaving nothing but the bare stem.
âWhat was it,â he asks, his voice almost tender, âthat made you start to lose your heart to me?â
A muscle feathers along the curve of your jaw, lashes flickering for a second. He can tell you donât particularly like this question, and it makes his grin widen.
âWas it when I protected you? Took that polearm into my body?" He tilts his head to the side. "Or was it something else? Something much more intimate?â
The question lingers in the air.
The moon spills over you like milk, brightening the shadows in your pretty eyes as they lock with his. Slowly, you lift your chin.
Defiance suits you.
âNo,â you say, simply, widening your stance.
His grin sharpens. Heâll drag your anger out one way or another. But heâll enjoy playing with you first.
A sudden gust of wind tosses your hair wildly across your face, momentarily obscuring the creeping darkness in your features. But he catches itâa subtle twitch at the corners of your mouth, pulling at the bow of your lips, the one heâs always found himself watching.
A smile.
Interesting.
You are such a fascinating thing when faced with your own death.
His teeth flash viciously in response, his four eyes devouring you.
You.
His flower.
His possession.
His property.
His wife.
His to kill.
His.
Always.
Mine.
His upper right arm swings up aggressively, but before he can react further, you turn abruptly. Yukata snapping in the breeze, you give him your back, take a step, and thenâ
Youâre gone.
Running.
His brow crashes down, eyes narrowing to angry red slits as your figure bursts through the wilting foliage, racing toward the forest.
That fucking forest.
He tosses back his head and laughs, the sound manic and crazed.
Are you really going to make him chase you?
How nostalgicâone last tumble through those woods.
âKeep running!â
You foolish girl. Idiot girl.
âStupid girl!â he snarls through his teeth, taking a step forward. His energy uncoils in a violent wave, vibrating and reaching for yours, which he can feel fraying and unravelling in panic.
He grins as adrenaline pours through him, his strides lengthening as he follows. You disappear past the lumbering treeline, falling into the dark maw of the night, but your residuals alight the ground like a map.
You always were easy for him to find.
Always.
And as the King of Curses slips soundlessly into the forest, he knows this time will be different. When he stands before you again, in this final confrontation, there will be no hesitation. Unlike all those years ago, when he held back, this time he will burn you, slice you, consume you.
He will steal the very last breath from your lungs.
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