@tojilvrs - Tumblr Blog

no. one party anthem

track seven: love song | prev track< next track> | setlist

and dilf of the year goes to...Suguru Geto!

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: mdni, fluff, smut + angst! sleepover with Suguru, domestic dilf!Suguru, sleepy unprotected piv sex, cockwarming, quiet sex, pulling out, making out/light biting lol, multiple povs, jealousy, Sukuna crash out incoming, Choso calling him out on his stupidity lmfao

art by @ohiya_2 on x, link here! and divider by @dollywons !!

"Is he breathing?"

You held your own breath, leaning over the pale face beneath you before poking his cheek, a little pool of drool leaking out on the pillow underneath his head. Gojo was, in fact, still alive, groaning a little before rolling over and burying his face in the couch while Suguru laughed behind you. A hand slid up your side, underneath the t-shirt he let you borrow, resting on the band of the too-big pajama pants that went with it.

Well, it seemed neither of you would be winning any babysitter of the year awards.

"Here," Suguru murmured, his other hand holding out a glass of water for you to take.

"Thanks," You laughed a little, taking a few sips and leaning against his firm chest. A short drive and a warm shower later, you were comfortable in his home, considering it still smelled like him, felt like him, the dark wood of the furniture and the cozy atmosphere. A few toys left out on the table, a toy kitchen set against the wall with fake food still scattered around it, but other than that, everything was surprisingly tidy for having twins around.

The Itadori house had been a wreck growing up - but that was mostly the fault of someone you refused to so much as think about.

"You must be pretty tired, baby," He dropped his voice lower, quieter, pressing a few small pecks into your hair, one of his hands brushing it away from your neck to leave little kisses over your throat. They were tender, made you want to melt into him, his warmth searing over you slowly until the cold you were used to clinging to had dissolved. You felt raw with him. But for the first time in forever, the vulnerability wasn't so scary.

"Yeah," You yawned, tilting your head back to crane your neck up to look at him.

He chuckled, taking the cup from your hands once it was mostly empty, setting it down on the coffee table before his big hands suddenly twisted you around and hoisted you up, your wrists wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist. Carrying you out of the living room and into the hall, most of the doors branching off shut, one you passed by decorated with stickers and drawings, painted a pale shade a purple.

You liked his easy affection.

Liked how openly he touched you, how natural it felt for your body to be tangled with his. Something about the closeness, the proximity, the way his hands molded to your body, it was all exhilarating. It'd be simple to say it was just because it was new or different, but really, you were pretty sure it was just him that had that effect on you.

"I've got a guest room if you prefer-"

"Or?" You pouted, tucking your head in to fit in the crook his neck. His skin was smooth, only a few hints of his cologne still there, but you could still smell the product in his hair now that it was hanging loose, something clean and probably expensive.

"You could sleep in my bed," He offered, and you wondered if he could feel your lips curl up into a smile when they were pressed against his collarbone.

"I'd like that," You quietly replied, keeping your voice down to not risk waking the girls as his soft footfalls continued to the end.

You were already trying to picture his room before you stepped foot inside. If it'd be simple or cluttered - if he'd have photos or posters hanging on the wall and what color his sheets would be. Would they be silk? Cotton?

It was probably neat, like the rest of his place. But you wanted the details, to discover all the little pieces of him you hadn't yet.

He set you down carefully before the threshold of his room, his door already cracked open as he wrapped his hand around the knob and pushed it the rest of the way open.

"I would've picked up a bit more if I'd known you'd be here," He murmured, letting you step in first before he followed and shut the door behind you with a soft thud. You let out a soft giggle as you glanced around, his room far cleaner than your own. A sprawling bed was in the center pushed against the opposite wall to the door, all the furniture the same dark wood as its frame. He flicked on a lamp rather than the overhead light, bathing everything in soft white glow. On the closest wall, a door was open to an attached bathroom, and next to that, a packed closet. A laundry basket was peeking out, a black shirt hanging off the edge like he'd tossed it in without looking.

"If it makes you feel better, mine's a wreck right now," You mumbled, wishing you had more time to take it all in without coming across as weird. A few receipts were scattered over his dresser, a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter next to where he left his keys and wallet along with your purse. You guessed he must've dropped them back off in here when he grabbed you fresh clothes earlier while you showered on the other side of the house.

"With the girls here, I don't usually ever invite anyone over like this," He shrugged.

This. You still weren't sure exactly what this was.

The impression you were probably the first girl he let in his room was less touching when you couldn't help but wonder how many must've gotten the hotel treatment too.

Your feet sank into a soft rug as you padded over to the other side of his room, where a tall bookshelf was anchored to the wall, thumbing over titles you were unfamiliar with, but there were a few family photos set up in frames at the end of the shelves, mostly him with the girls at parks and museums, but one was him with the rest of the band, clad in graduation caps and robes, grinning at the camera.

"You like to read?" He asked, lingering a couple steps behind you, letting you look through his selection. Nonfiction, classics, philosophy, a touch of everything, all in good condition.

"Yeah, when I have the time," You nodded, although it'd been a while since you actually read something that wasn't on your phone.

"Here, you might like this one," He casually offered, his chest slotting against your back as he pulled out a book before you caught the cover, walking back over to place it by your purse so you wouldn't forget it tomorrow.

"I'll take good care of it," You giggled, turning your head before he could catch your grin. You doubted he was the type to dog-ear his pages or scribble between the margins.

"You better," He teased as he returned, his thick fingers finding your waist and slipping underneath the band of your pajama pants, one of them twisting and toying with where your panties hooked over your hips.

Another excuse created for you to keep seeing him even after the date he was planning - a car to pick up, a book to finish. When all of it had happened and passed, would you just keep finding new ones? Or maybe, would a day come where you no longer needed a reason?

The rest of the wall was lined with records and posters, a small table set up with an expensive record player and speakers. But on floor, there was a mess of cables, two guitars in stands and the same brand of speakers next to them you knew Sukuna also used.

A notebook was left on top of one of them, pen holding the pages open, his familiar handwriting filling them in unfinished lines. You were about to step forward, try to catch a closer look, but he held you back and clicked his tongue.

You really wanted to see now.

"What's that?" You asked, trying to peek over your shoulder up at him with your best pair of puppy dog eyes, batting your lashes. You had an inkling of an idea.

Suguru huffed, his dark brows drawn together as his stare flickered from you to the notebook.

"Nothing." He shook his head.

He was lucky he was handsome even when he lied.

"Then can I have a peek?" You pouted, trying to slip away from his tight grip, but he just wrapped another arm around you before you could. "Please?"

He chuckled, soft and low, the sound of his laughter reverberating through your chest as his body pressed into yours more.

"Begging me, pretty?" He hummed, bending down to deliver a distracting kiss to your throat.

"Will you show me if I do?" Your small whine just made him smile against your skin, one corner of his mouth curving up.

"Temptress," He teased, a sharp edge of his canines scraping against your pulse as he sighed. "It's really nothing, just a song I've been working on."

"And I don't even get a peek?" You tried to make it obvious you were just playing too, despite the curiosity that ate at you when he was around. Laughing a little so he knew your complaint wasn't serious, resting your head back on him and relaxing into his body rather than straining to sneak away to steal the book.

The back-and-forth was fun. Something you didn't want to fuck up.

It wouldn't hurt or sting if he didn't show you. You never actually expected him too. But the conversation was just so comfortable, one where you didn't have to worry about where it'd lead or what you said - even if you were still self-conscious.

"Mm," He breathed the sound out, his lips pressing down on your collarbone before he started pulling you back to the bed, walking backwards until you reached the edge, sitting down first on the dark blue comforter and placing you in his lap. "How about you get the first listen when it's finished?"

"It's okay, you don't have to-" You were stammering, face flushing and flustered at how suggested something that felt so intimate. Personal.

Sukuna wrote a lot of his own music, sure, but you pretty much only heard it after it'd been through rounds of rehearsals or the first time he sang it on stage.

"You just have to tell me if it sucks," He chuckled again, one thigh bouncing you up a little bit as he moved his hands over your waist to twist you around to face him.

"It won't," You managed a small smile, trying to squash the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach.

"You have a lot of faith in me," He murmured, dragging his thumb over your side under your shirt.

It was terrifying how true that was.

"Guess so," You sighed, brushing a loose strand of his bangs out his face, tucking it behind his ear as he smiled back at you. Dark eyes narrowed while he studied you, the dim lighting making it hard to spot the difference between where the color ended and his pupils started. You could get drunk on the way he looked at you, how he just stopped and stared, like you were his favorite painting or a piece of art.

"I'm glad," He spoke softly. Watched you intently. Acted as if every slow swipe of his thumb over your skin was deliberate instead of absentminded. Cataloguing you the same way you'd been bookmarking all the little facts you found about him.

"For what?" You heard yourself whisper, your breath catching in your throat when he leaned in so the tip of his nose was brushing against yours.

"You called me," He answered, fine lines etched in the creases by his eyes as they flickered down to your lips. There was still a dull ache where Yuji had headbutted you before, but you wouldn't mind making it worse if it meant he'd kiss you again. He paused though, his own pretty lips parted before he continued. "You're here."

You kissed him.

Each moment with him pulled you into new territory. Growing bolder, braver every time his lips brushed against his, hoping he wanted to explore you half as bad as you wanted to explore him.

A hand thrown over his shoulder, the other in his hair, leaning up to meet his mouth before the last syllable had even fully finished leaving it. You probably tasted like toothpaste, and it sorta stung, but he was kissing you back and you couldn't think about anything else.

His grip shifted so he could pull one of your thighs over his legs until you were straddling him properly. Trailing his huge hands over to your ass, squeezing through the pajamas and tracing a little circle over where he'd signed his name the last time you were in a bed together.

You almost moaned when his tongue slipped past your lips, your hips rolling forward on instinct so you could feel the growing bulge in his lap. Your chest was pressed against his, and you could feel how much he was itching for more.

Some invisible line tied from you to him, a connection that was more than just chemistry.

"This isn't fair," He murmured into the corner of your mouth, a low grunt falling out when you tried to move and he wouldn't let you, holding you down against him.

"I can't give you a good night kiss?" You pouted, pressing a few more against his cheek. You took his jaw in your hands, felt the way he clenched it as you tilted his face to the side to continue peppering them down to his throat.

"This is what you consider a good night kiss?" He chuckled, grabbing your wrist to hold it behind your back and return the favor. His soft lips ghosting over all the same spots on you, counting them out carefully.

"Mhm," Your small sigh turned into a yawn, your body starting to slump a little into his as you relaxed more and more into his touch.

His kisses eventually came to a pause, his focus shifting back to your tired eyes and sleepy smile, dark circles under his serious stare.

"You're beautiful."

And he said you weren't fair?

"You don't have to butter me up when I'm already in your bed," You hm-ed, attempting to tease him but really, you just couldn't think of the right words to get across how beautiful you thought he was. To capture how it felt like his fingers were wrapped around your heart and squeezing when he said stuff like that.

Especially when you could still feel his lips on your skin.

"So, um," You paused, finding it almost impossible not to let a little smirk slip when you ran your thumb over your lip. "We should probably go to sleep, right?"

He was chewing in the inside of his cheek before breathing out a sigh as he reluctantly nodded.

"Probably."

You climbed off of him, patting his firm thigh twice and rubbing your fingers over thin flannel of his own pajama pants. His eyes were on you while he stood - watching you pull back the covers and get under them while he shuffled over to shut the lamp off.

A fuzzy feeling was clinging to your chest, buzzing around and bumping off the walls, sleeping over with a guy you were starting to realize just how much you genuinely liked.

It was kind of uncomfortable to acknowledge. It hadn't snuck up on you - but you'd been doing your best to ignore it entirely when your instinct was to run away before you let someone else hurt you.

Considering you were currently carless, you guessed you wouldn't be able to sneak out of his bed tomorrow morning. You'd probably just end up running into his daughters or Gojo if you tried.

You wanted to convince yourself it was still casual. That this didn't have to mean something more than him being a good guy and potentially a better boyfriend than you'd ever had before - because he still wasn't yours yet.

Being normal felt next to impossible laying beside him.

Your brain scrambling to make sense of if you should curl up next to him, lay your head on his chest first or if you should just close your eyes and actually attempt to sleep instead of waiting for his next move.

In the end, you settled on something a little lame - turning to face him and throwing a leg over his while you readjusted the pillow under your head. He didn't say anything, but he rested a hand on your thigh.

Firm.

It was relaxing - it's sturdiness a sedative. How his fingers dimpled your skin and his palm pressed down like you were his to hold.

You hadn't meant to doze off so soon - hadn't realized you were falling asleep at all until you woke up confused.

Caught somewhere between dreams, blinking a few times while you struggled to process the unfamiliar shapes and shadows in the dark, the weight pressed against your back until your mouth conjured up the name for you.

"Sugu?" Your voice was still heavy with sleep, a soft rasp that was almost a whine as the muscled arm wrapped over your chest squeezed. Your fingers were holding onto him there, keeping him locked around you so you could be the little spoon while you slept on your side.

"Sorry," He muttered, his voice thick with something else. "Did I wake you?"

Your tired body was slow to register what he was talking about when so much of him seemed to envelop so much of you already. At least, until he readjusted, and you felt even more of him snugly pressing down on your spine.

A small noise slipped out, a tired mumble that was mostly incoherent.

He felt your pause, his face buried in the exposed crevice of your neck as if he belonged there.

"Can't sleep," He breathed, the muffled sleepy sound seeping through you. All the blankets had been kicked off but you were warm. It might have just been body heat - but you knew better when all your blood seemed to be pooling south, simmering under the surface and sitting heavy in your core when you felt his cock throb.

"Oh." It was a squeak.

You were absolutely awake now.

Sleepy, sure, but you didn't think you had a chance of slipping back into your dreams before he'd finished what he began here.

You shifted your hips, pressing your thighs together like it'd offer a fraction of the friction you actually wanted while his arm tensed, pulling tighter on instinct when you realized your ass was basically grinding against him.

"God, baby," He groaned in your ear, his silky hair falling down to brush along the nape of your neck. "You can't do that or-"

"Or what?" You dared.

He sucked in an uneven breath. How long had you been laying like this before you woke up? Him holding back and restraining himself while you were so snug by his side?

"You-"

"Does it hurt?" You interrupted, pitching your voice down to a soft tease. "Probably does, right?"

The mental image of it all pink and pretty and swollen because he wanted you so badly made your mouth water.

He grunted your name, a warning that was half a moan, his teeth scraping against your collarbone as he bit down like it'd help him hold himself back while you kept grinding back into him.

"You could just put it in," You suggested, bobbing your shoulders up in as close to a shrug as you could with his arm pulled around you so tight. "Wouldn't that be more comfortable?"

It happened faster than you expected, his grip suddenly disappearing as both hands practically ripped the pajama pants halfway down your thighs, tugging down his own just enough before he was readjusting your legs and spreading you open just enough he could press the first inch inside.

"Fuck," He hissed.

There was something irresistible about his impatience.

His heavy breathing as he struggled not to immediately shove himself all the way in, how soaked he managed to already get you making it easier for him to stretch you to his size. You bit back your own moan as he molded you to him, wincing when your teeth grazed back against the broken skin of your lip.

"Shhh, it's okay, I've got you," He soothed, and you wondered if he could feel the way you couldn't help but squeeze tighter around him at his low voice drawing the words out. His fingers splayed over your hip pulled you into him, forcing his cock in until his swollen tip was practically kissing your cervix while he pressed another soft kiss against your throat.

You braced yourself for him to pull out and push back in.

But then ten seconds passed.

And then a minute.

He hadn't moved. His breathing was controlled, his sharp nose occasionally nudging against your neck while his cock just fucking throbbed inside you. Or you throbbed against him.

You couldn't tell when your brain was starting to short-circuit. Your neglected clit was aching, your body needy, the feeling of being stuffed full and stuck like that only making every little twitch and movement he made more intense.

"Suguru," You whined, trying to shuffle back just for him to angle himself a little deeper, just enough you couldn't squirm away.

"Mm?" He answered like he was the one that had just been woken up, all tired as he yawned.

"Can you-" You were stumbling over the words, struggling not to moan or whine or be too loud when you could practically feel every last ridge and vein.

"Can I what?" He was taunting you, your idea backfiring in your face. But it was hard to mind when it still felt so fucking good.

"C-can you fuck me?" You heard yourself ask, an exhausted little whimper you knew he wouldn't say no to.

"Since you asked so nicely," He sighed, tracing his fingers over your stomach to just below your belly button, pressing down right as he slid out and finally thrusted back in.

It would be easy to fall in love with him when he fucked you like he already fell for you.

Holding you close and pinning you against him while he split you open again and again and again.

The pressure and the pace were mind-melting, unable to stop yourself from squirming each time he pressed so snugly against the soft little spongy spot he easily found again this time. He was whispering in your ear, but you couldn't think, couldn't piece together the syllables into something that made sense when his fingers were pushing down on your stomach like he could actually feel himself in there.

"I c-can't, fuck fuck fuck, Sugu, mm-" Your desperate whine was cut off by his hand over your mouth, the intense pressure building and mounting and building hotter and higher while you clawed at it.

"I know, baby," He murmured, and you'd never heard anyone make condescension sound so hot, his teasing and his touch making it so much fucking harder to hold back.

"Suguru, please, fuck, please," You moaned into his hand, although it was really just a whisper forced out between shaky breaths.

"C'mere and cum, baby, okay?" He teased, but you could hear the way his breath hitched in his throat, the hint that he was having just as hard of a time holding himself together as you were. "Can you let go for me?"

You bit down on his palm, not really even meaning to, whining as your canines sank down and you did cum, fast and hard, snapping into so many pieces you were pretty sure you'd fall apart if he wasn't holding you.

The pleasure was more of a wall than a wave, one it felt like you ran face first into, tears at your lashes and your body reeling as your thighs trembled, muscles tensed. Seeing stars as you cried his name, teeth retracting from his calloused palm as he had to let you go to pull out, hearing the sound of skin on skin as he roughly stroked his cock, cum dripping onto your ass and his palm too, probably.

He kissed your shoulder first.

A long press of his lips to you. Mumbling something about getting up to get a washrag to clean both of you up. He had to ask twice if you wanted another glass of water before you managed to shake your head no, your head falling back to the pillow as your body and brain attempted to sync back up.

You fell back asleep before he even finished cleaning you up.

Need was not a word in Sukuna's vocabulary.

He didn't need you, or anyone else for that matter. So why the fuck did he feel so horrible watching you drive away?

Sitting in the pit of his stomach, festering and feeding on guilt? Annoyance? He couldn't be disappointed. It was just a stupid fight. You'd be back.

You were just a constant. If he was the sappy kind of loser you seemed to like, he would probably say something about you grounding him, but he wasn't. Why waste words on something obvious?

Maybe bringing someone to make you jealous was a bad move, but at least he wasn't trying to hit on you at a fucking playground. It was bad enough watching you smile like an idiot at him, how annoying it was to notice the cute gleam in your eyes when he gave you some surely stupid gift and kissed you.

Suguru Geto didn't even know you. How could that asshole act like your boyfriend?

How'd he even fucking know you were there? The idea you just told him, or worse, you wanted to meet him, made Sukuna irrationally irritated.

And seriously - how could you say no when he offered to be your boyfriend?

Your relationship had never been conventional, but it hadn't mattered before. If he had a heart, it was already yours, and you'd always come back to him.

It was like a universal law, something you could deny but couldn't change. He didn't need to search for you in any crowd or wait around for you to show up (even if he always did that anyway) because you'd end up by his side again eventually.

So, okay, yeah you left him drenched in the pouring rain, and sure, he deserved it, but whatever, he'd let you have however much fucking space you wanted since you would eventually wind up back in his arms again.

It was easier being friends?

You were the one who practically ran away every time he tried to hang out with you, the only time he got to fucking spend with you these days was when you were underneath him.

"The fuck are you staring at?" He grunted, feeling the brown eyes studying his scowl and wet clothes before he even made it dripping across his own kitchen floor to grab another beer.

"A jackass," Choso shrugged.

The dark-haired guitarist might've been his bandmate, but Sukuna knew he considered himself your friend first.

"Whatever," Sukuna snarled back. "Not like it's any of your fucking business."

Choso was unphased, just blinking slowly. You probably complained to him, but even if you hadn't, he never liked Sukuna from the first day he moved in next door.

If he wasn't already in trouble with you, he might push his luck some more and throw a punch or two, but you might actually make the cold shoulder permanent if he did that.

"Not like it's my fault you're losing her," Choso said it casually, clearing missing the memo that he wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with any more bullshit as if the puddle by his feet and the clothes clinging to his skin wasn't already screaming it.

"You don't know shit," Sukuna muttered, all the bottles and jars clinking together in the side door of his fridge and he yanked it open to grab a beer from the bottom rack.

"I know she spent the entire night texting another guy while you tried to dry hump some girl to make her jealous," Choso shrugged again, and Sukuna may have really hit him anyway if the first half of his sentence hadn't smacked him in the face before he had the chance.

What the fuck were you doing texting that guy all night?

"I'm not her boyfriend," Sukuna said, trying not to wince when it made him recall exactly how you reminded him of that earlier.

"How long until he is?"

The disgusted noise ripped out of his throat was entirely involuntary and entirely embarrassing.

He twisted the cap off his beer, throwing it in the trash can just for it to rebound off the edge of the top and bounce out. Sukuna ignored it, bringing the bottle up to his lips to take a long sip.

But the burn going down wasn't soothing, and it only made everything taste more bitter than it already had.

The whole night had tilted and twisted, taken on some hazy filter that he hated. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be stomping around and scowling at him, flicking him in the arm and telling him to stop drinking. He was supposed to be dragging you back to his room and stripping your skirt off to tell you sorry the only way he really knew how. His hands never failed him when his mouth often did.

But most of all, you were just supposed to want him.

"Hey, I was wondering where you went." A small hand was on his shoulder. A soft voice in his ear. Probably pleasant to someone else, but it was just grating when it wasn't the one who was supposed to be whispering it. Kissing her had felt slimy. Wrong. She didn't taste like you, didn't feel like you.

He brushed her hand off, peeling it off like a dirty rag before walking away. Footsteps followed, too heavy to be hers, an annoyingly familiar pace he wished would go away.

"You need to get your shit together, man."

Sukuna needed to not be receiving advice from Choso, of all fucking people.

"Like I said, it's not your fucking business," Sukuna snarled, not turning around. He hated the fact Choso was right. Hated you weren't here. And fuck, he hated that he hadn't said yes when you were.

"Go fuck yourself," Choso scoffed back. "You never deserved her anyway."

Like he didn't already know that?

"What? Think if you play white knight long enough she'll fuck you?" He sarcastically huffed, one hand hovering over the knob to his bedroom while they other gripped the glass beer bottle tighter as he paused in the hall, shirt still sticking uncomfortably to his chest.

"Think if you keep being an asshole, she'll fuck you?" Choso didn't skip a beat, leaning against the wall like he was bored.

His anger was quiet, coals that'd burn if you got close enough to touch.

Sukuna didn't answer.

Slammed the door behind him after he slipped inside, setting his drink down on a coaster and pulling off his wet clothes to discard into a pile in the corner. He had to walk back over to lock it before some drunk loser stumbled in looking for the bathroom.

He could just kick everyone out. All it'd take was for him to bark that the party was fucking over and they'd scramble. But then it'd probably spread some stupid rumor and now wasn't the time to deal with any shitty press. Really, he should've shut down the dumb argument with Choso too, should've bit his tongue and ignored it entirely.

Especially when they were supposed to spend the week in the studio working on songs.

He was a man of brute force. He didn't have a soft touch or gentle words that could fix or mend. He was jagged and rough, and everything he ever held seemed to break instead of bend. Before you.

Until now.

He flicked on the yellow light in the attached bathroom, but his reflection felt like a traitor.

Tattoos you'd went with him to get, holding his hand, not because he needed it, but because you said the needle of the tattoo gun made you feel queasy. He should've admitted he liked it instead of scoffing at you then.

Your smaller palm in his, your fingers pressed against the tendons on the back of his hand, squeezing every time you looked at where the needle met his skin and stained it.

Stupid. This was stupid, wallowing in his memories and staring at the mirror, forcing himself to turn back towards the shower to twist the handle and start the water.

It was just you.

Since when did you have so much control over him?

All because of a dumb dream?

The shower was scalding his skin, all the sculpted muscles and smooth skin starting to turn pink as he scrubbed himself with the soap bar until he risked rubbing himself raw.

Stepping back out to wrap himself in a patchy towel he'd never bothered replacing from the days where you used to live together, one of the few scraps from those days he had left. Most of it was at his apartment in the city since he usually stayed there anyway - but he kept a couple little items here, an ashtray he didn't even use anymore next to the bed, a pair of your panties in the top drawer of the dresser.

The party had died down outside his door - the music thumping lower, less annoying voices chattering. Sukuna changed into something dry, bending over to dig through the wet pile of clothes to find his phone. He wasn't sure why.

Some subconscious instinct to see if you had texted him. Or to salvage something.

There was one missed call.

He felt his stomach flip.

Sukuna's fingers worked faster than his brain. Typing in his passcode to call you back, wishing he had a cigarette for the first time in fucking years when the rings just droned on in his ear.

You didn't pick up.

Not the first time. Not the fifth.

His first text was simple. Call me back. But when ten minutes passed you still fucking hadn't, he was already fifteen messages deep, each one a little more unhinged than the last.

You turned your fucking location off too.

Was this a punishment?

He would've thought it was - but the fact that you called rattled him. You rarely did, only when you needed him.

He'd never actually missed one before.

He wasn't sure what the feeling seizing his chest was. What was making his pulse pick up, pounding in his head, refusing to let him catch his breath as he flipped the lock to his door and walked out, his attention flicking from face to face searching for the person that probably wanted to see him the least here.

At least it was easy to spot the one guy with pigtails.

"Hey," Sukuna called out, grabbing his shoulder to twist him around just for Choso to push him back off at the slightest touch.

"What do you want?" Choso grunted, grinding his back molars as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Have you heard from her?"

Choso was already rolling his eyes before he had the chance to finish.

"Look," Sukuna snarled. "She called me and won't pick up now. Her location isn't on, okay? What if-"

"You're actually worried?" Choso's face scrunched up in something caught between confusion and concern at the idea something might be wrong.

"Can you just fucking call her and see if she picks up?"

And even though it was his idea, he hadn't expected how fucking horrible it'd feel for you to not pick up. To find out you called Choso first and he'd missed it too.

Of all the outcomes for tonight, he'd never considered stuck in the passenger seat of his bandmate's shitty little car to see if you'd made it home and scanning the roadside to make sure you hadn't ended up in a ditch.

A headache was throbbing behind his eyes, not even drunk enough to use it as an excuse, tension and pressure building and bouncing around in his skull as he strained to see in the dark. The music was too loud - even if it was his own, the car practically vibrating with the bass.

You were probably fine.

He should probably stop thinking so goddamn much about his frustrating feelings for you and focus on making sure you were actually safe.

It was hard when he was just now realizing half the fucking songs he'd written were about you.

Gojo would not, in fact, be breathing, by the time you left.

Groggily following behind Suguru in the morning after waking up to the sound of the smoke alarm and giggling to discover Gojo attempting to switch it off in a frilly pink apron that matched the two toddlers sipping on juice at the kitchen table. He just grinned when he glanced at the two of you before smacking the button to shut off the noise, tilting his head to the side towards the flour-dusted stovetop.

"Want some waffles?"

He grabbed two plates already stacked with waffles, syrup dripping off them as he walked over to deliver them to the girls giggling between themselves. Clumsy hands struggling to properly hold the utensils as they stabbed at the food, both of them grinning when they glanced up to see Suguru.

"Are you trying to burn the kitchen down?" Suguru sighed while you stifled a yawn, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth while your attention from Gojo manning a waffle iron to the girls sleepily greeting their dad.

"Daddy," Nanako chirped, tufts of hair sticking up in odd places as she took a big bite of her waffle. "Uncle Toru made waffles!"

It came out closer to dah-ee and to-wu, muffled through her mouthful of food, but her sister just giggled and almost choked on her own bite.

"I see that," Suguru dryly replied, cutting Uncle Toru a look. "Let's eat with our mouths closed, okay? Chew first, talk later?"

"How many do you want, sweetheart?" Gojo was staring at you, head cocked to the side, hip against the counter while he held up an oversized beer stein he for some fucking reason chose to make the waffle mix in.

"Um, just one is fine," You yawned.

You had a feeling he was trying to get a rise out of Suguru by calling you that, and you suspected his teasing was working judging by how Suguru tensed by your side.

"Suguru?" Gojo hummed. "Two? Or three?"

"Let me cook," Suguru grumbled, rubbing the back of his eyes and stepping forward to take over before a phone started ringing.

It took your sleepy mind a few seconds to realize it was actually his. You hadn't even noticed he'd slipped it into his pocket from the dresser after you both woke up.

"It's the mechanic," Suguru sighed as he checked it. "I should answer."

You nodded, watching him walk back into the bedroom with the phone pressed to his ear.

The sizzle of waffle mix hitting the hot surface of the iron snapped your focus back to a grinning Gojo.

"You gonna just stand there or come sit down?" He goaded, setting the still half-full beer stein down on the counter by the previous ring of flour before walking over to the kitchen table and pulling out a seat across from the girls for you.

You guessed you should be grateful he was doing his best to act like a gentleman.

"Thanks," You mumbled, reluctantly walking over to sit. Both the toddlers were curiously staring at you, all big eyes and tilted heads, chewing their food with their mouths closed now.

Mimiko swallowed first.

"Who are you?" She blinked, her stuffed animal sitting in her lap now.

"I'm your dad's friend," You answered, figuring that was probably the least problematic response you could offer. She squinted her eyes, like she knew she remembered you from somewhere, but couldn't figure it out.

Maybe if Yuji was here too, she'd be able to place it, but not when you were bare-faced in her dad's pajamas.

"Girlfriend," Gojo corrected.

It was your turn to throw him an annoyed look.

"Wha's that mean?" Nanako quizzed.

"I'm his friend and I'm a girl," You corrected Gojo this time, smiling back at her syrup-stained face while she punctured her mostly-destroyed waffle with the fork again.

"And they like each other very much," Gojo cooed, pulling a golden waffle from the iron and dropping it onto a waiting plate on top of the fork and knife already there.

He was actually whistling walking over to set it in front of you, offering a huge shit-eating grin like this was all a part of some master plan of his.

"What are you doing?" You muttered when he was close enough, tugging at the hem of his shirt, careful to keep your tone controlled so the toddlers wouldn't think anything of it.

"Well, right now, I'm about to make another waffle, but then I'm going to shower and get ready so I go by this new bakery and pick up a cake, and this afternoon we're supposed to record and work on a new-"

"That's not what I meant," You interrupted.

But at the sound of approaching footsteps, you let go of his shirt, turning your attention to the actually appetizing breakfast. Butter and syrup were still out on the table, a couple bowls of fruits with spoons stuck in for you to scoop out and put on your plate if you wanted.

"You took for-ever," Nanako whined at Suguru's return.

He chuckled, walking over to ruffled her already messy hair.

"Sorry, sweetie," He apologized. His sharp attention swept back over the full scene - you at his kitchen table, the food on your fork and Gojo returning to the waffle iron before the next one could burn.

"Uncle Towu said she's your girlfwen," Mimiko tattled, forgetting what Suguru had said earlier and talking between chews. She dropped the fork to wag a short finger at you.

"Did he now?" Suguru chuckled.

"Mhm," They both nodded.

You couldn't help but note Suguru didn't correct them.

"Your car should be ready in a couple hours," Suguru informed you, combing his fingers through his bangs before glancing back down at his phone still in his hand. He was frowning while he tapped a few times.

"Oh," You nodded, a sharp stab of disappointment sinking deeper as you stared at the crease between his brows, heard the long sigh leaving his lips. "That was fast."

"I'm supposed to meet with a new babysitter for the girls before we're supposed to go to the studio, but-" He started to say, but you forced a smile.

"It's fine, you've already helped a lot. I can figure it out from here," You interrupted, glancing back towards his bedroom where the phone you'd forgotten to charge last night was. It was definitely dead now, but Suguru would surely let you borrow a charger. You could just get a ride share or call Kaori-

"Hello? I'm right here?" Gojo chimed in, pouting at being left out.

"Are you actually volunteering?" You blinked a few times, face scrunched together in a weak attempt to scrutinize how serious he was.

"Duh."

Suguru was glaring. Not that intensely, but you could see the irritation bubbling up, how obvious his disdain for the idea of Satoru driving you around was.

"I guess that works," You shrugged, trying to keep the smirk that so badly wanted to curl up on your face at bay as Suguru tried to keep his face neutral.

"Maybe I can reschedule-"

"Sugu," You laughed. "It's fine."

Gojo was his friend.

It was just what? A twenty minute drive? Thirty maybe? Yeah, he was an idiot. One who apparently loved to meddle with your love life. But it probably wouldn't be that bad.

reblogs n comments are super appreciated <3 love hearing your thoughts !!

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