Alternative retrieving the astral pulse scene where Robert goes instead of Visi and the whole team has to watch him on the monitor knowing that any attempt to pull him out of there would be akin to a suicide mission.
Shroud does his whole "this is the same gun that killed your father" bit after beating his ass to a plup and getting his goons to sit him up on his knees, but instead of spitting in his face Robert just smiles, closes his eyes and leans forwards. Gripping the barrel tight and holding it against his forehead.
"Go on...put me out of my missery"
And the gun clicks.
Empty.
"Lucky shot"
Click.
Empty.
There's six chambers. Two bullets in his dad and two empty chambers already hammered down on.
So Shroud goes to pull the gun away. Because the next barrel is live, and surely Roberts not that stupid. But he just holds it tighter. Even grabs Elliots wrist and keeps his grip firm on the trigger.
"Do it! Go on! End it, end this! Let me see him, please just...just let me see him again"
And he's crying. Snot and blood and red hot tears. Shaking. Unyielding. And tired. So tired. Tired of the chase, tired of running, tired of fighting. He doesn't care anymore. He can have the pulse. He can have the world. Because why stop him? What was the point of avenging a dead man anyway? He wasn't going to rise from the grave and pat him on the back. He wasn't going to ruffle his hair or cut the crusts off his sandwiches ever again.
He was a ghost.
And maybe Robert was better off being one to.
So Shroud pulls back the hammer. And squeezes the trigger.
And then Roberts on grass. Soft grass covered in dew drops that reflect the bright light of the full moon above him. And Chase is smiling, gasping in breaths and cupping Robert's cheek, using his thumb to wipe away a tear before he collapses into that same soft grass.
God i need Chase. I need chase so bad. I need to fall asleep in his lap and have him smile down fondly at me. I need to help him detox his locks because his arthritis is hell and he can't be doing all that in this cold ass weather. I need to help him with the button he missed on his cardigan that morning because he left his glasses at work. I need to kiss his cheek and bid him goodnight when the day is over. I need to bring him snacks and invite myself over for dinner just so he has some company in his empty apartment and a home cooked meal in his belly. I need him hesitating to fall in love with me because he can't give me any kind of life when his is so close to the end, but not realising it's already too late. I'm head over heels and impending doom or not, I'm sticking around. Even if friendship is all it will ever be.
synopsis: f1's hot, nascar's not / wc: oop didn't count
you wish you didn’t spend so much time and care getting ready, especially considering who’s your date tonight. however, that was probably also the reason why you did end up putting in all that effort. always teetering between caring and trying not to. sure, you always carried yourself like you didn’t care. but at the end of the day, underneath all those layers and walls? you did. you always do.
you hook your arm through sukuna’s and tilt your head upwards to look at him. he was handsome, dressed in a simple black button up and black pants, solid chest peeking through the open fabric and arms on displayed from the rolled up sleeves. your gaze traces the black ink on his skin and for a moment, it feels like you’re just tracing circuits. the two of you have always joked that he should get one tatted, a whole ass track.
there’s a light flick to your forehead to pull you out of your thoughts and you jerk back in surprise, now glaring at your friend.
“hey! what was that for?”
“you were spacing out. need a moment before we go in?” he’s smirking in amusement, but you know better. sometimes you needed a moment, and he was always prepared to give you that space.
you pull on a smile, a mischevious glint in your eyes. “no, now let’s get trashed.”
the space is thrumming with energy, bass thumping loudly as you and sukuna navigate through the throngs of people. the crowd parts for the two of you, because you’re the ceo and he’s a top racer, perhaps the most popular you can be in the formula one scene. you’re both gesturing and saying hi to various people as you make your way to the bar.
the pink haired man leans against the counter on his forearms and waves down a bartender to order your and his drink, just the usual. while he’s doing that, your eyes scan the room. racers, mechanics, various team members, acquaintances, sponsors, dates, everyone and in between attended these parties. so when you’re scanning the room in hopes of seeing a dark haired man and avoiding a certain white haired man, you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed and relieved all at once.
a body slides in between the two of you and you frown, already knowing who it is.
“whiskey, on this dude.” fushiguro smirks, thumb jabbing in sukuna’s direction.
your pink haired man scoffs and rolls his eyes. he flings his card down on the bar, all the same.
two drinks slide in front of sukuna and he nudges yours in your direction.
“cheers,” you say monotonously, clearly not enjoying that you can’t even take a proper shot with your friend. nonetheless, you take yours and, out of the corner of your eye, you see fushiguro swiping sukuna’s and knocks it back. you frown up at him and elbow him in the side. you wish he’d at least choke a bit or cough, but he was just too fast.
“loser.” you and sukuna both glare at him, but he just laughs and turns to the red bull racer.
“that’s what you get for being too slow. things get taken away from you.” he says. “so who’s the real loser?”
sukuna’s brows crease and he wants to punch his friend in the face, demote him from being a friend, in fact. he doesn’t always air out his grievances, but fushiguro isn’t blind, and there’s been enough instances where sukuna’s admittedly gotten drunk and let a few things slip. enough times for fushiguro to piece things together. and it’s annoying that he’s inserted that slight. but he’s not going to punch someone in front of you, even if it was well deserved, so he slides his hands into his pockets instead, heaving a large sigh and giving a specific look to the bartender, silently saying another one.
“don’t say shit you know nothing about.” he grumbles, but fushiguro is already laughing and wrapping an arm around each of your necks, causing the both of you to jerk closer.
“i’m just playing around. we getting shit faced tonight or what?”
you shove him with enough force to make him let go of you and you straighten yourself out, smoothing down your hair and dress. “yeah, just not with you.”
“oh don’t be like that, doll. we’re all here to have a good time. no need to island yourself off with this guy.”
sukuna tries not to outwardly bristle and takes the newly made drink from the bartender, drinking it before fushiguro can even think about swiping that as well. fushiguro’s ordered glass sits in front of him, but he’s busy looking at you, clearly having fun causing sukuna trouble.
you lean forward and the large man subtly tilts back. you raise an eyebrow in amusement as you catch that small motion, a smile curling up on your face. you always knew he didn’t like you, or in better terms was neutral about you, but he sure really didn’t like you enough for you to enter his personal space.
“get a date. then you won’t have to beg to third wheel.” you smile before snatching his drink and tossing it back. the sound of the glass hitting the bar is so satisfying, but only because there’s a crack in fushiguro’s expression, the scar on the side of his mouth feathering. there’s a dramatic faux expression of shock on your face and your hand flies up to your mouth. “oh no, i guess that’s what you get for being too slow? well, not that it’s a stranger to you, getting overtaken all season? try not to let it happen too much on the asphalt, kid.” there’s a mean smirk on your face. “come on, ryo. i wanna dance.” you extend an arm out without breaking eye contact with the dark haired man and sukuna gladly moves around the body to escort you hand in hand to the dance floor.
good fucking riddance, he thinks. after all, he asked you to be his date. sharing your time with others? not in his plans for tonight.
the two of you move like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your back is turned to sukuna and he lets a hand grip your hip while the two of you dance. sometimes you’ll roll your body and your ass brushes against his pants. sometimes you’ll reach back to wrap behind his neck, sliding your body down against his. sometimes you’ll twirl back around to face him and wrap your hands loosely around his neck, grinning up at him all the while doing so.
sukuna thinks you’re going to kill him. and that’s how he’s going to end his racing career, death by you.
it’s all in good fun and nature, something the two of you had always done, even way before starting your friends with benefits situation. but that doesn’t help the growing uncomfortable situation in his pants. sukuna eventually grips your waist and you pause to look at him.
“i’m going to get us more drinks. stay right here, okay, angel?”
to get drinks and to give him a few minutes to calm the fuck down.
you nod, smiling, before turning and continuing to sway to the beat of the music.
for a brief second, a familiar blonde enters your view, presses a glass into your hand, and leaves just like that. you don’t question it and take a sip before resuming your movements. you’re dancing for just a few seconds until you feel jabs in your right shoulder. you whip around only to see a girl you’ve never seen before. before you can say anything, she beats you to it.
“bitch, who the fuck are you? that’s my man!”
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
gojo’s salty.
he wanted to come to the party wtith you, but you already had a date. what does that even mean, anyways? it’s not like you and sukuna are official. in fact, that red bull idiot wasn’t the only problem. the real problem is whenever you attended events with a date, you always made sure that most of your time was dedicated to the lucky bastard. which meant that glances were barely spared to poor gojo. at least in a general setting, you’d at least look at him whenever he tried to shamelessly flirt with you. but at events with a date? you give him an even flatter unimpressed expression and the cold shoulder.
you really know how to wound a guy.
so now the racer is sulking on a leather couch, arms spread out along the back while his body slumps down, essentially letting his arms be the only thing ot hold himself up, uninterestedly looking around the room. sure, he could’ve brought arm candy for the night, at least as a distraction, but he hadn’t been in the mood. he wanted you.
a glass is set down on the low table in front of him and gojo doesn’t have to look up to know it’s his dear friend and mechanic, nanami. the blonde plops into the space next to him and takes a sip from his own glass.
“if you’re going to act like this, let’s just go back to the hotel.”
“no!” childish? perhaps. but maybe he liked to make his own self suffer.
“maybe you like making yourself suffer.”
“…. no…”
“masochist.”
“says the guy who still came to a party that you always claim to hate!” gojo retorts quickly, ready to defend his honor.
nanami gives him a deadpanned expression. “you threatened to sharpie dicks on your car and blame it on me on national television.”
the white haired man pauses. “oh yeah…”
his gaze sweeps across the room again and he spots you instantly. how could he not? he silently watches the way your dress hugs you, accents your body so well, revealing in all the right places in a tasteful manner that still leaves so much to the imagination. wearing makeup that makes you seem like you’re glowing, hair done in a way that makes you all the more beautiful. you were breathtaking. and hot. and you have your arm looped with sukuna's.
gojo leans forward and swipes the drink nanami gave him and downs it in one go. his friend raises an eyebrow and slides his own line of sight to you and the pink haired man.
“ah.” he notes.
gojo’s seething. it’s torture, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene. watching you hold his hand, watching you dance and move your body in such a hot and sexual way with him. that should be him with you. at some point, nanami grows bored with the entire situation and leaves. gojo barely even registers that nanami walks to you to give you the rest of his drink.
at some point, gojo’s standing. he walks to the bar and orders a drink, downs that too. he waves for the bartender for another. as he waits, he turns, leans back against the counter, and is surprised to see you alone.
well, alone for a second.
before he knows it, there’s a girl strutting up to you and forcing your attention. you clearly dont know her and she seems to be going off on you. all context clues point to the stranger being one of sukuna’s hooks-ups, one that got a bit too clingy.
she’s jabbing your shoulder now as she waves her hands around, clearly angry and animated about it. on any other day, he’d be rushing to your side. but today? gojo finds it hard to be a little sympathetic watching the scene unfold. after all, you did come to the party with sukuna and not him. did you deserve all the words being thrown at your face? no, but he couldn’t help but admit that it felt a little good seeing you being knocked down a peg, especially when it was because of sukuna. like, that’ll teach you for picking the wrong guy. childish? yes. but also he wouldn’t be caught dead with one of his side bitches showing at any of these events.
a few gasps erupted and gojo’s jaw clicks at the girl throwing her cocktail drink at your face.
but seeing you throw nanami’s drink right back at her followed by a back handed slap without hesitation? that threw all of gojo’s bitterness out of the window and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
the shit you were spitting back out at the girl was a thousand times worse.
darling princess of formula one?
yeah,
and with claws.
that’s what made him and sukuna so mesmerized with you, after all. you knew how to bite back. you weren’t afraid. what could be worse than being seiji and hiro’s offspring? of course, he romanticized about it growing up, wondered what kind of life he would lead if he was in your shoes. but over the years of getting to know you, you didn’t bask in the spotlight. you were forced into it. you wouldn’t smear their legacy, but you didn’t take it a step further, a step back, a fine line that you learned to balance on like a tightrope walker. the pressure pounding on your shoulders, it was no wonder you grew tougher skin. after all, yielding would also mean smearing your family’s name.
gojo continues snickering and takes a step forward, ready to finally play the assisting hero to the rescue, to send the girl on her way. she was stuttering, scrambling for anything, desperately trying to double down on the fight she started but was clearly unable to end.
well, he was laughing. but sukuna had the last laugh really, didn’t he?
he sees sukuna from across the room, smugly smiling as if to say that’s my girl. and that’s what stops gojo’s tracks. the way the pink haired man slides up next to you, hand possessively gripping your waist.
the side bitch flinches like she’s been wounded and tries for alligator tears, clearly begging for sukuna to see her side of things. but his crimson eyes are on you, solely on you, like you’re the only person in the room. you shut your eyes, open them, and grin, taking a step forward. she scampers at the implication, rather trying to save what’s left of her tattered dignity than suffer what else you could do to her, considering you weren’t scared to talk back and slap her in front of the crowd. smart for not sticking around to see what else you’d do.
everything seems to melt back into normalcy, but gojo continues to watch on. you’re taking a drink from sukuna’s hand and scoffing a laugh at something he’s saying. his jaw clenches and he doesn’t even register the sound or feeling of his teeth grinding against each other. the music is blaring, but his head is so much damn louder.
your eyes avert for a moment and he catches them. everything seems to quiet a bit and he tries to smile at you, a hand half-heartedly in the air to wave. your expression seems to flicker for a moment, but you’re smiling and waving back before turning back to sukuna. the red bull racer is leading you off of the dance floor by the hand, disappearing into the thrumming crowd.
what was that?
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
sukuna is holding your hand, leading you through the crowd and towards red bull’s vip section. the entire confrontation had you feeling a bit floaty and numb. your hand stung from slapping the girl, the top of your dress and parts of your body was drenched and still dripping wet. but you keep your head up, a smile on your face- until you see him.
you feel your curled lips falter, twitch. shit.
you meet wide amethyst eyes and your lips part, breathless.
you and sukuna are brushing past geto.
sukuna glances at him and averts his gaze back to straight ahead of him, but geto’s eyes are solely on you. the faint smell of cigarettes brushes past you and then suddenly gets stronger as a hand grips your free wrist, causing you to whip around and stop sukuna in his tracks. red eyes gleam as they narrow. any other situation, you would’ve relished feeling like hot shit, having an attractive man holding on to each of your hands, one on each side. but right now? something was traveling down from your throat to your stomach.
“the fuck? let go.” sukuna growls.
geto’s eyes narrows and you think you’ve never seen something so hot before, flushing at the scene.
“i think you’ve taken up enough of her time.” amethyst orbs shift to you and softens. your name sounds like heaven coming from his lips. “mind if we talk privately?”
you have a rule. no matter what event or who you’re going with, whoever you’re going with gets all your attention, like a reward for asking politely, for wanting you. but tonight, for some reason, you break it.
you turn your head and give sukuna a look. you’re not too sure what kind of exxpression you’re wearing, but whatever it is, it gets the message across. something flickers across sukuna’s face and he lets go of your hand like he’s been burned.
“fine,” he seems to spat out. then, pausing for a bit, gently, “just text me, okay?”
you nod and feel geto begin pulling you away. you let your legs move, but your eyes linger on sukuna for a moment longer. he breaks it first. the pink haired man turns and slinks into the crowd, disappearing.
geto pulls you in the opposite direction, straight into mercedes’ vip section which was more secluded and quiet, granted you could only get so much of that at a club.
he seems to crowd you against the far corner of the couch, partially hidden by a well positioned plant. you’re not too sure why, but you brace yourself as he looms over you, getting closer and closer. you always knew he was tall and built, but was he always this big? and suddenly, you’re met with a soft fabric being dabbed gently on the side of your face and neck. you stare at him wide-eyed, watching his intense focus.
as he finishes, he gives an awkward smile and hands you the handkerchief in his hand. “sorry, i’d get more but… i’m not sure if you want me to ruin your makeup.”
you take it, but your hand falls limply in your lap, the only sign of life are your whitened knuckles, clutching onto it. “thanks,” you mumble, cheeks growing warm at the gentle gesture.
seconds tick before the umber haired man leans forward, taking one of the many bottles spread across the coffee table and pouring you a glass. he leans back onto the couch and drapes an arm around your shoulders, his other hand resting on your thigh, thumb moving in soothing circles.
“are you okay?”
his voice vibrates next to your ear and you huff, a smile on your lips still before you take a sip of your drink. “why wouldn’t i be?”
when you meet his eyes, you falter. again. so you look away for a moment to recollect yourself, glad for the indoor plant being tall and wide enough to conceal you from the rest of the room.
what’s wrong with you? get it together.
“he really needs to stop making me clean up his messes,” you say in a mixture of half seriousness and half jokes. your curt laugh sounds tired. but it also wasn’t fair. even if your friend was a jerk, he wasn’t totally heartless to you. despite all the ego and smirks, he was probably feeling bad about it and overthinking it right now. either that, or already diving in between a girl’s legs. “it’s okay, i’m used to it.” you do your best not to sound bitter about it. it was just the truth. it’s what came with being sukuna’s friend and situationship partner. you were accused time and time again, so you might as well put on a show and get some dick with it. honestly, you just wanted to apologize to geto for having to see what he saw, but it didn’t seem like the right words to say. so you don’t.
“you shouldn’t have to get used to it,” he murmurs.
you hum, noncommital. you swirl the drink once in your hand, watching the dark amber move. you feel yourself slouch the slightest bit, lean into him gingerly, allow yourself to let a bit of honesty quietly slip from your lips. “right?”
you set the glass down and clap your hands together, as if closing a book. “let’s stop talking about it.” your fingers wrap around geto’s bicep and you lean close to him, smiling. “let’s drink instead!”
there’s a defeated lopsided smile on his face. “okay, but not too much. i have-”
“training tomorrow. i know. just a little bit.” you squeeze your thumb and index finger together and he laughs, easily caving in to your demands.
“okay.” pausing, he then stares directly into your eyes, a slight air of seriousness washing over him. “but on one condition. you start using my first name.”
you’re taken aback for a quick second before grinning. “deal!”
“cheers, angel.”
“cheers, suguru.”
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
suguru’s taking me back to the hotel. sorry
his screen blackens after being idle for too long. sukuna unlocks his phone again for the second time and he finally sends you a reply.
no worries. get back safe. sleep tight.
the pink haired man pockets his phone and slumps forward, burying his face into crossed arms as he leans against the club balcony’s railings. the metal feels cool against his arms. all he can think about is what does that mean? were you going to add that guy to your roster and sleep with him tonight?
there’s a low whistle to his direct left. “slow and messy. dumb might be it to perfect the trifecta.”
sukuna turns his head, despite already knowing who it is, and his eyes narrow at the umber haired man. “shut up.” he snaps.
fushiguro leans against the railing alongside him, propping his head up on an arm. “i’m just saying, you’re really fucking it up.”
“i-” words fail him. he can’t help but feel like it’s his fault. he knows it’s his fault. he still slept around with other girls, and sure he makes sure that they’re not super in the formula one loop, but sometimes a batshit crazy bitch finds a way to wriggle her way in to a party in hopes of a second chance. things like this happened commonly enough. how long had you have to put up with these random hoes in his life? too many years to count. but he still does it anyways, entertaining girls, picking them up, all for a quick fuck that gives him the worst post-nut clarity.
the umber haired man nudges him, shoulder to shoulder. “dude, i really don’t get you. it’s not like she’s head over heels for some other guy. aren’t the two of you childhood friends or something? considering she kept your sorry ass around this long, that has to count for something, right?”
sukuna stares ahead of him, eyes slowly lowering from the starless sky to the city lights. “you don’t get it… we’re just friends.” that’s what it all counted for, that you two would always be there for each other, no matter your relationship.
he hears a faint giggle echo off the near empty streets and his ruby gaze sets on you. you’re beautiful and barefoot, floating across the sidewalk with the mercedes racer in tow, your heels hanging off of his fingers, propped up and over his shoulders. something squeezes unpleasantly in his chest at the sight.
“friends, huh?” fushiguro hums, watching the scene also.
you’re twirling yourself around a light pole before running up to geto, all smiles and laughter.
“well, if that’s what you want.”
the unsaid words were loud. because he was slow, you’re going to be taken away. because he was slow, being friends is really all the two of you will ever be.
sukuna leans further on the balcony’s railings and his eyes slowly close, watching you use geto’s shoulders to get up on your tippytoes and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. just before his eyes fully shut, the sight of geto’s smile haunts him. it’s all dark now, but he hears your giggle carrying across the street. his heart hurts.
Chase just wants to celebrate joining the Brave Brigade and finally becoming a superhero. And it doesn't hurt that you get to join in on the celebrations. Or maybe it does.
(Fingering, PV sex, squirting, Young Chase is a little shit)
Based on this ask and my own ovaries needing this man like air atm
"Come on, say it"
You squirmed. Gripping the headboard as your eyes threatened to roll back into your skull. Hips jerking and fighting against the hand on your stomach. Pressing you down, keeping you still as two long digits vibrated inside of you. His palm on your clit. Channelling all his speed into one spot. One punishing, brutal spot.
"Don't-ah, fuck-Don't be so fucking cocky"
"I'm not cocky. I'm a fucking super hero. Now say my name"
He sped up. Rubbing that spot inside you harder. Fingers so fast, they became a blur. Constant and inescapable. Juices squelching, trailing down your crack to soil your sheets.
"C-chase..."
"Mm not that one. Say my name, come on. You know you want to. Fucking say it before you squirt all over your pretty sheets"
He was still in the suit. Helmet removed, gloves pulled off. Arms bare and muscle's shifting. The fabric skin tight and so tempting. So pretty. You were almost thankful when he pressed down harder, because your eyes closed. A strangled noise leaving your lips as you bucked. Reaching down to grab his wrist. But it was moving too fast. Settling for his biceps instead. Fingers digging in painfully as he chuckled. Actually chuckled. Locs in his face and a shit eating grin spreading across his cheeks.
"I'm not-oh shit-I don't squirt"
"You are tonight, baby. And if you don't...well, I'll just go faster"
And he did. Adding trusts and vibrations you could feel all the way up your spine.
"Go on, say it"
You shook your head. Gasping for breath. Pressure building.
"No. I won't feed you ego like that. I won't-shit, shit"
He pressed down more. Moved more. Leaned in and bit at your neck. Sucked on your collar bone as you gripped at his hair. Pulling and tugging and sobbing as you felt it. Felt all of it. A rubber band about to snap.
"Say it"
And snap it did. Sobbing and bucking. Back arched so high off the bed he didn't even need to lean down to suck a nipple between his lips.
"Fuck! Trackstar!"
Wave after wave. Squirming and squirting on his fingers until his suit was soaked. Your sheets ruined. Body twitching and weak. Batting him away as your clit became overwhelmed. Your hole raw and stretched. Letting out a choked sound as he pulled his fingers free, giving your swollen clit a soft slap just to watch you jolt.
"Mm that wasn't so hard now was it?"
Your eyes couldn't focus. Staring up at the ceiling as you felt him pull away, shifting on the matress.
"Fuck...fuck you"
It was weak and pathetic. A soft whimper as the matress dipped between your legs. Thighs pushed up and apart. Gloves back on, and helmet snug on his head. Suit pulled off and cock twitching. Tapping against your still throbbing cunt. Soaking himself in your juices as he leaned down. Biting and pulling on your bottom lip. Sliding in with ease.
Not a request, just an idea, Chase is a speedster, a thing I see in some smut around speedsters is human vibrator-ing with the speed
Yall, you can't be bringing up this idea when I'm already foaming at the mouth for this man. God dam.
(He would tho. He'd figure it out and use it to his advantage just to make your squirm. Being the most annoying tease the whole time. "Yeah, you fucking like that. Fastest fingers in America, baby. Go on show me how good i make you feel")
trackstar ⸻ sukuna bg . friends don't look at friends that way
♫ it makes no sense ♫
masterlist
synopsis: f1's hot, nascar's not / wc: oop didn't count
if he tries hard enough, maybe this morning could last forever.
sunlight is filtering in through the soft curtains, the warmth of your body tucked into his, his arm wrapped around your waist like it has always belonged there, his nose buried into the top of your hair, smelling last night’s shampoo, your soft breathing, it was everything he always wanted, craved for.
but you’re stirring and he has to stop pretending to be asleep.
you slowly sit up and stretch, limbs reaching overhead. his heavy arm is still over your waist and you lift it off without mercy, flinging it off to the side before leaving the bed and going off to the restroom. you don’t even look back at him and it stings.
sukuna doesn’t move. no, he lays there and reassesses his entire life choices while you shower. maybe if he was a little bit smarter, things would be different. maybe if he was a little bit bolder, things could be different.
he hears the hair dryer come on and he repositions himself to what he thinks is his best side for when you come out, eyes shutting to continue his farce.
he hears your footsteps, a pause, and then a drawn out sigh.
the sound of your voice even when annoyed, he’s in love.
and then a pillow smacks him in the face.
his entire body flinches and jolts upwards. “you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he groans, voice deep despite already being up for an hour now.
you stick your tongue out at him and he notices you’ve already dressed in last night’s clothes again. “stop pretending. it’s so obvious.”
it is, and he loves you for knowing. well, how could you not? the two of you were childhood friends. you had the unfortunate rng of being related to the forever famous darling giants. he had the unfortunate rng of being related to a line of famous and successful racers since his great grandpa’s days. because the two of you had been in the scene since babies and finding friends around the same age was hard to come by with all the events, your bond ran deep and long. both cursed with expectations and responsibilities, everything involved and in between that came with generations of legacies. both just wanting to enjoy some life and damn freedom.
sukuna was there for all your highs and lows. at all the solemn funerals when all you did was keep a brave face, only sobbing into his shoulders and chest when everyone filtered out of the room after fulfilling their obligations and responsibilities. at the press conference announcing your succession and new role. at all your charity events, even when he didn’t have to go. at your big ass condo that stunk with emptiness whenever he was in town, just to watch trashy reality tv or attempt making cookies from scratch, just to take the both of you back to your younger days like in highschool or college, as a reminder that you two are so much more than a ceo and a racer, that you two are humans who too deserved to live a little.
the two of you are best friends.
the line blurred a few years ago when the two of you were a drunken mess from an end-of-the-season party. he was drinking too much because he won that season. you were drinking too much because… well, he didn’t really know why and still forgets to ask. he just knew that the two of you stumbled into his hotel room and, evidently charged from a streak of unsatisfying partners, had sex.
sukuna had expected everything to change, dreaming of headlines of how formula one’s ceo and racer were dating. but the next morning, the two of you didn’t discuss it. he assumed that it was a mistake that you wanted to sweep under the rug. to not ruin your friendship? he didn’t mind. but then it happened again… and again… and again. and naturally the two of you fell into a lull of hooking up without labels.
sukuna thinks it was probably after the first four times that he realized he was in love with you. but who really knows when? he probably fell in love with you back when he was in middle school or something. and he’s tried to change the relationship, multiple times, but it seemed like his words were always wrong or maybe it was just the timing that was wrong or both. another curse. whenever he was with you, he never knew the right words to make you his. they just jumbled up and came out all wrong. like the universe fitted his life to never belong with you.
“you’ve got training today. don’t miss it.” you say curtly, already scrolling through your phone to see what meetings you have planned for the day.
he grunts, musing his hair and reluctantly checking his phone. after a few seconds of pretending to read anything on his phone, the pink haired man watches you from the corner of his eye. your back is turned to him and the bed and you’re distracted. so he crawls across the blankets slowly and abruptly pulls you by the waist. a squeak escapes your lips as your phone drops to the carpeted ground. you’re being pulled onto his lap and he buries his head into the crook of your neck.
you let out a sigh and lightly smack his arm that’s firmly banded around your waist. “ryo, what are you doing? let go.”
sukuna shakes his head lightly, breathing you in like you’ll disappear if he does, and you roll your eyes.
why does he have to be so childish during the mornings? it’s making things so goddamn difficult.
skinship went off the charts the moment you two hooked up, so you were used to it at this point. but did he have to touch you every morning after like you guys were dating?
seeing that he wasn’t going to let up, you lean your head back against his shoulder and stare at the white ceiling. so clean and white, unlike your entire life.
“you should get a girlfriend,” you eventually murmur.
sukuna stills at your words and slightly lifts his head from your skin.
“you should be my girlfriend-”
you jerk back to look at him, eyes wide. “huh?” did you hear him right?
your childhood friend is gaping as well, unable to believe at what bold spirit suddenly possessed him to let those words leave his mouth. his mouth closes for a second. opens again, “-and make me a sandwich.” fuck, dude. there was something seriously wrong with him.
seeing your expression morph into something that said what the fuck, he drags a hand down his face and clears his throat. “no, i mean- i mean, we already fuck good. you like it, right? there’s no way any other guy fucks you better than me. so why don’t we just y’know, make it monogamous or whatever?”
you scrunch up your nose and that’s how sukuna knows that he’s once again fucking things up.
“har har.” you say sarcastically, pulling out of his grip, picking up your phone and now grabbing your belongings. “i’m just saying if you wanna cuddle, i bet you’d have no problem finding a bitch that’d be more than happy to within a ten foot radius.”
sukuna grabs a pillow and hugs it, now feeling quite empty with your body heat gone yet again. “i don’t wanna cuddle any other bitch.” he mumbles. he wants you, but you’re not getting the hint, and he doesn’t know how to say the words without adding in the shit ones.
“stop being afraid of commitment and commit. i’m your friend, not your cuddle buddy.”
his knuckles whiten in frustration and he’s two seconds from tearing this hotel pillow apart. red bull won’t be happy with the unnecessary extra charge. or maybe they won’t even notice after all the extra room service he ordered last night after fucking your brains out. “exactly my point!” something in him snaps and he chucks the pillow to the side, standing and grabbing your hand.
you startle for a second before glancing down at your connecting hands and dragging your eyes up to his face, brows furrowed.
sukuna, cheeks and ears slightly dusted pink, takes a deep breath, attempting to steady his heart and will himself to not fuck it up again.
he says your name softly in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. traitor.
“listen, i don’t want any other girl to cuddle with. you should know best that i kick those chicks out before i go to sleep or right when i wake up.”
you raise an eyebrow, not really understanding where he was going with this. “that still doesn’t mean you can use me as your permanent cuddle buddy.”
sukuna gently takes your other hand, despite you still holding your phone, just so he can try to get your full attention and ground himself. he’s gonna do it. now. right now.
“i know what i want.” pink eyes gaze into yours and you begin thinking that your friend is serious. “i want y-”
an out of character ring tone interrupts him, like a sarcastic classical melody in the verse of la la la-la la’s that you’d only assign to your little assistant, ijichi. you glance down at the phone vibrating in between your hands and he grimaces. even at the times he most desperately wants, it doesn’t feel good seeing you silence the phone.
you look back up at him, but the moment’s already gone, ruined. his courage has already puffed out and he can feel all the wrong words bubbling up in his chest, if he were to say anything else.
but more than anything, he might’ve been your friend, but you were still the ceo of formula one. and he’d never dare to drag you down when you’re already faced with so much scrutiny for being ‘a woman in a man’s world,’ as quote by some dipshit magazine that he wanted to burn down a many many times.
“sorry, you were saying?”
what’s another day on top of all the days that have already accumulated?
“it’s nothing. you should answer him before he shits himself.” and manages a slight upwards quirk on the corner of his lips.
that earns him a quiet giggle before you swipe to answer, letting go of his hands. “hello? yes, ijichi, i know the schedule for today. yes, i already reviewed the meeting notes. mhmm. yes. oh and be sure to double check the flight times, okay? i don’t want another incident like last year in milan.” at that mention, you glance at sukuna, shaking your head and smiling. for context, ijichi had a dyslexic moment and a good handful of racers were left behind when they were supposed to be transferred to the next city, forfeiting a precious day of familiarizing themselves with the circuit. a devastating blow.
sukuna watches you slide into your professional flow and the reality of everything sinks back in. who was he kidding? he knew where the two of you stood. the both of you were childhood friends, best friends. you were and would always be there for each other. and as your friend, first and foremost, how could he lump another responsibility onto you? did you even want a relationship? surely, you were content with how things currently were. you would say something if you weren’t, right? it was just him wanting something more. if he had to be a lovesick idiot for the rest of his life, then fuck him. being by your side, supporting you the way he always did and swore would forever do, was already everything and enough. he knew that. and maybe that’s why the universe sabotages him. honestly, maybe that’s why he self-sabotages. because he knows that if he truly tries to cross the line, to attempt something more serious, maybe that’ll scare you off or maybe you’ll force yourself into it just to go along with him. just like how you were forced into your role, going along with whatever legacy and responsibilities your dipshit of a father left you.
maybe he couldn’t have you in public or when the sun’s out. but he could still have you in his bed during the starry nights. maybe the two of you won’t be a couple or get married and be a family. but the two of you still had forever together. fuck all the guys you were fucking and all the girls he was fucking. they were temporary. you and sukuna? you two were for life, even if not in the way he wanted. at least you two would be side by side.
so sukuna holds his tongue, just smiles at you as you stack more tasks onto your poor assistant, and lets things go yet again.
“okay. is that all? all right, i’ll be there in an hour. bye.” you hang up and look back at your friend expectantly. “sorry about that… i must’ve forgotten to tell ijichi to call me an hour later than usual.” you sigh. morning phone calls like that were routine, just to make sure you both were on the same page. “anyways… what were you saying, ryo?”
sukuna wishes you’d just say his name, his nickname, a thousand times.
“yeah… i want you to make me a sandwich. that’s what i want.” he sounds defeated, but you miss it. you laugh, lightly jabbing him in the chest.
“okay, full circle comedian. don’t forget about training, okay? see you later.”
the door clicking behind you is so damn loud.
sukuna heaves a large sigh and falls backwards, landing on the bed with his arms spread out. the weight of your roles sits on his chest. he stares up at the vast and white ceiling. it’s so clean and white, unlike his life.
he thought that if he tried hard enough, maybe the morning could last forever. but he tried and now the morning is over.
