[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else ✦ frat!kuna fwb ✦ ongoing series
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ only. nsfw. angst. FAMILY DRAMA. a wholeeeeeee lot of plot. fwb. slight degradation. dumbification. sukuna’s thick happy trail. SEXTING. phone sex. dacryphilia. toxic frat culture. sukuna has ANGER issues. crying. toxic co-dependency. underage drinking. TRAUMA. domestic abuse. child abuse. depression. anxiety. wc: 22.9k
series masterlist ✮ previous chp ✮ next chp (coming soon)
SLAP!
the sound cracks across the parking lot, sharp enough to startle a flock of birds.
thirteen-year-old sukuna barely flinches. his head turns with the force of it, cheek already burning, his soccer bag slips from his shoulder and thuds against the concrete.
late evening sun hangs low behind the bleachers, practice long over. most of the other kids have already been picked up. a few parents glance over, then quickly look away. koari stands in front of him, chest heaving, car door still open behind her.
inside, the engine is running. yuuji’s wailing from the backseat, loud and hiccuping cries that only get worse the longer she ignores him. choso, five years old and small for his age, is twisted around in his booster seat trying to shove a stuffed animal into the baby’s hands, whispering frantic little “it’s okay, it’s okay”s that don’t help.
sukuna is still in uniform. dark soccer jersey clinging damp to his back, the team crest stitched over his chest, grass stains streaked across his socks and shorts. sweat runs down the side of his tanned face, mixing with the heat blooming under her hand.
“so you think you’re funny?” she snaps, grabbing sukuna by the front of his practice jersey. “making me sit here while you show off?”
practice ended ten minutes ago.
sukuna doesn’t answer. he never does, not to her. his red eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking.
her grip tightens. “I have two kids in that car. two! and you think doing stupid little tricks with your friends matters more than my fucking time?”
yuuji’s crying spikes.
“look at what you’re doing!” she shrieks, gesturing wildly toward the car like the baby’s distress is his fault. “you stress him out! you’re selfish, just like your father. always needing attention. god!” she exhales like it’s hard to breathe just thinking about his dad, “zero fucking backbone as a man.”
choso is watching through the window now.
sukuna finally moves, just enough to shrug her fingers off his shirt, slow and controlled.
“It was practice,” he says flatly.
the second slap is louder. harder.
“don’t talk back to me.”
a car drives past the lot entrance and slows. sukuna notices it, makes eye contact with a teammate sitting in the backseat. then the car keeps going.
her eyes flick to the snake bite piercings in her step-son’s bottom lip. her lips pull tight in the same familiar disgust as if the two earrings he got a few months ago wasn’t bad enough. “you’re still putting more garbage like that on your face,” her insides twist, “looking like a degenerate.”
she leans in closer, nails biting into his arm. her voice drops, venomous and low. “you think you’re special because you can kick a ball? you’re not. you’re a burden. do you understand me? a burden I didn’t sign up for, but I’m still forced to take care of.”
yuuji is still crying. choso is getting anxious. sukuna stands there, cheek red from the slap, eyes dry, jaw locked so tight it aches. he doesn’t look at her. he does it on purpose, he’d rather get hit again than look at this woman.
the third slap draws the metallic taste of blood blooming where his teeth cut the inside of his mouth.
kaori pulls her hand up again for a fourth, eyes dark and filled with vicious malice towards this thirteen year old boy. her hand shakes as she watches the boy lick his bloody lip, cold. he never reacts…he acts like she’s beneath him. as if! kaori’s anger bubbles over, hot fury leaking from her pores as she heaves, fingers flexing ready to slap him once more. but she catches sukuna’s gaze flick up at the car, at his brothers.
choso is sticking his head out of the car, eyes rimmed red. “mommy! yuu wont stop crying!”
koari’s head whips around, “choso,” she snaps. “what did I tell you about interrupting me—“
“but he’s—“
“choso!”
choso flinches, eyes brimming with more tears. sukuna’s fist clenches, glare finally flicking up to this women. “he’s just a kid,” he grits.
koari turns back to the thirteen year old. her eyes wild and manic. she can see the disgusting bubbling behind his gaze, the scowl on his face.
“don’t you dare speak about my parenting,” she seethes. her face curls into a snarl. “you’re the parasite. sucking my soul, your brothers souls, your fathers—everyone would be better off without you.”
sukuna remains still. thick brow permanently sewn together, glare cutting through her. her teeth grind, hands trembling with more pent up anger. finally having enough of yuuji’s wailing and choso’s fidgeting, she curls her lip, turning on her heel.
“find your own way home.”
the engine roars as koari pulls out of the lot, leaving a quiet sukuna behind. and only when the car is out of sight does sukuna let his hand tremble and hot tears cascade down his cheeks.
“FUCKFUCKFUCK FUUUCK HERRR!!” sukuna screams at the top of his lungs, slamming his duffle bag on the concrete. again and again. and again. the strap rips, flying against the concrete just for sukuna to drop to his knees, fist rising high before slamming it into the duffle. all his pent up rage unleashes on his equipment, however, his shin guards, cleats, and water bottle are used to it by now. ultimately laying under him as he falls on the pavement, burying his face deep in his duffle, and screaming with all his might.
his throat tearing.
——
“you’re lying.”
sukuna sits across from choso. his jaw locked, eyes dead, and muscles tense.
the tv was turned off minutes ago after sukuna finally came home. the blanket lays on the floor after sukuna ripped it off the fifteen year old, who was passed out on the couch. choso frowns, brown hair a mess, and dark circles under his brown eyes.
“I answered you. you can choose to believe me or not—“
“I don’t,” the eldest cuts, arms crossed, biceps flexing with frustration, glaring at his idiot brother. “why’d she give you that money?”
choso frowns, sweat building on his forehead. “I don’t know. maybe go ask her, since you’re the only one that can talk to her.”
sukuna scowls, biting back his tongue. he runs his hands through his hair. choso watches, back slouched against the couch, sweats and tshirt wrinkled from sleep, and one leg tucked under him. he doesn’t say anything. just observes, and quietly prays that sukuna doesn’t know find anything out.
“yuu’s telling me you’re practicing with y’r friends?”
choso’s eyes widen momentarily, sukuna catches it. “yeah…”
“how often you guys practice? yuu’s makin’ it seem like it’s an everyday thing.”
choso shrugs, “we’re workin’ out a new song, and ino keeps fuckin’ up the drum solo.” sukuna leans back in the arm chair, eyes narrowing. choso frowns noticing the way his older brother is scrutinizing him. he looks away, eyeing the blanket sukuna snatched off him. “can I go back to sleep now?”
sukuna pokes his cheek with his tongue, shrugging.
the teen grumbles, pushing off the couch to head to his room. “whatever. can’t even sleep on the stupid couch without getting bothered—“
“so if I talk to your ino friend, he can tell me where you’ve been?”
choso halts. sukuna doesn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know that his brother stopped. choso’s hands ball into fists, heart thudding, as it always does when he starts fabricating a lie. “you don’t even know who ino is—“
“the kid with the beanie. we met when you told me to fuck off and ran away with em. I remember.”
“I never told you to ‘fuck off’ .” choso tsks, sweat slowly sliding down his back.
sukuna turns, arm over the chair, glaring straight at his brother, “you basically did when that’s the last time you fuckin’ talked t’me. giving me the goddamn silent treatment like I’m your girlfriend.”
choso feels his blood start to pump louder, his eyes narrowing like knives, letting go of all composure, “maybe I just don’t have shit to say to you — ever think of that?!”
sukuna turns even more, “yeah, I don’t miss being a stupid fucking teenager—jesus christ!” he aggressively points at his brother. “you really have no fucking clue the shit I’m keeping from you. that’s why you think you can get fucking angry at me!”
“I don’t give a shit! there’s other people besides you that can think for themselves—!”
sukuna’s hand trembles, eyes burning red.
“if I want to talk to her that’s my choice—“
“you’re fifteen, fuck do you think you are?” sukuna scoffs, cold, “we needa sit down and get ya fucking checked in the head. seriously cho, y’er getting under my fucking skin—“
“good,” he spits, chest heaving.
sukuna’s jaw locks. “give me y’er phone.”
choso’s eyes widen, immediately taking a step back, “no-why?”
“gonna call your friend,” sukuna reaches for choso’s pocket, but the teen is quickly dodging, deflecting his brother’s arm,
“I’m gonna tell gramps—!”
“tell him!”
as strong and intimidating as sukuna is to outsiders. he’s also the eldest of three boys, and will ultimately fall on the ground tackling his teenage brother. and unlike the frat, sukuna has never raised a fist or hand, to either of his little brothers. the most his soul can do, is physically overpower them.
which has led to choso’s arm getting pinned under his brothers knee. sukuna straddling the younger’s chest, letting the teen thrash beneath him as he keeps a hand pressed to choso’s cheek, other hand grabbing at the phone that has fallen to the ground.
“you started going to the gym, ya little shit?” sukuna grunts.
choso groans in frustration, arms flexing to grab his brothers shirt. “get off me!”
“fuck’s your password?” sukuna attempts, typing out choso’s birthday. incorrect. yuu’s birthday. incorrect. his birthday. incorrect. sukuna frowns.
“woahhh dudeee, what’s going on?”
the color drains from choso’s face. his eyes bulging as he tilts his head back.
standing tall and curious — his best friend — ino.
it takes, a little under, a second for sukuna to glance up, spotting the boy, then the beanie, then choso’s reaction.
“ino?”
ino freezes, eyes widening as he makes direct eye contact with choso’s very intimidating, very scary, older brother. “y-YES?”
choso’s eyes look like they’re going to burst from their sockets. he’s aggressively shaking his head, struggling underneath the two hundred pound athlete. “go home ino—“
“stay.”
ino freezes, sweat quickly building under his beanie.
“don’t—listen to him,” choso falls back, sukuna letting go, no longer fighting over the phone. choso turns on his knees, eyes wide when he sees sukuna already walking up to his friend.
“did you guys do anything other than practice with your band this week?” sukuna’s first question already had ino glancing at choso. “don’t look at him, look at me.” ino’s eyes snap to sukuna, sweating. “now answer.”
“hey dude—“
“I’m not ‘yr fuckin dude,” sukuna barks, patience paper thin.
choso tsks, fixing his torn shirt from the tackling earlier, staring directly at his friend, as if that’ll get them to communicate telepathically. forgetting that ino secretly admires his older brother.
“we got a couple burgers from the diner and uh we went again after the school’s soccer game yesterday—“
“choso went to a game?” sukuna’s brow hits the ceiling, whipping his head to see choso frowning.
“is that so surprising?” he says.
sukuna’s eyes narrow. “you wouldn’t go—“ he stops. an uncomfortable twist preventing him from finishing the sentence. he turns back to ino. “can you drive?”
ino shakes his head.
“who’s driving ya both around town then?”
“maru,” ino replies, quickly elaborating before sukuna snaps again. “he’s a friend and plays base, for our band and he was the one driving last time when you—“
“so choso didn’t go anywhere alone?”
ino hesitates.
choso takes a step forward, sweat trickling down his back as ino chokes. idiot! choso screams internally, eyes snapping to his brother. he definitely noticed that!
sukuna’s crossed arms flex in anger, pushing further, the room bending around him causing the teens to sweat buckets, “where’d he go—“
ino loses it—
“he just left to talk to a girl and got rejected—real bad— that was the only time he left—but also when we’re in school, since we have separate classes. but he just got rejected by a girl he has a crush on during the soccer game so we ditched during halftime.”
the house is dead silent.
sukuna blinks.
his brother’s friend really is a fucking character. his head drops forward, fingers rubbing his eyes, aware of the two boys holding their breaths as he realigns his thoughts, grinding down on his teeth.
ino shoots his friend a nervous look. the other frowns shrugging at him before lifting a finger to his lips, easily mimicking a don’t say anything else face.
the sharp inhale of the six foot so man has both teens looking back at him.
“you going out to practice now?”
the question hangs in the air. neither boy responding, they’re so shocked. but once sukuna looks back at choso, and the teen catches the anger slowly dissipating from his brother — he nods.
sukuna turns away, walking further into the house towards his yuuji’s room, the exhaustion hangs heavy on his taunt shoulders. ready to crash.
choso watches. silent, heart thudding against his ribs, until—
“so you believe me now?”
sukuna halts.
the sharp jab hangs in the air.
sukuna’s back is turned. ino hold his breath, eyes clenching shut in panicked anxiety, heart thudding agaisnt his chest. why does he have to be in the middle of this???
sukuna rolls his neck back. a crack. his glare pierces the air, holding choso in place.
“watch it,” he mutters, low.
choso averts his gaze, eyes flicking toward the kitchen like he’s suddenly interested in anything but sukuna. his face twists into a sharp, frustrated scowl, hair a mess from his older brother’s rough handling. yet…he stays quiet. for once.
the silence stretches, tense and unnatural, as sukuna rolls his neck back again, another crack slipping out as he finally turns away. his patience is gone. whatever energy he had left is gone. he doesn’t say anything else. just walks off.
his steps are heavier now as he disappears down the hall and into his old room. the door clicks shut behind him, finally ending the interrogation.
only then do choso and ino move. ino lets out a breath he’d been holding, glancing back at him. “dude, i—”
“not here,” choso cuts in sharply.
he’s already moving to his room, fast and clearly agitated. he grabs his guitar, shoving it into its case, he yanks his backpack off the chair. there’s no second thought or pause. he doesn’t even bother with a change of clothes, or the bathroom. he just wants out of the house.
ino watches for half a second before following, the two of them slipping out as quickly as they can.
meanwhile, sukuna’s body feels like it’s shutting down. his thighs ache from the week, his back tight from the studying stress and impromptu practice, his shoulders are heavy like they’re carrying something he still can’t fucking shake. and his head won’t stop pounding. all his thoughts stack onto one another, overlapping and refusing to quiet down. he doesn’t have the energy anymore.
so when he pushes open the door to what used to be his room—now yuuji’s—he barely registers anything. megumi’s curled up on the air mattress in the middle of the room, and yuuji’s splayed half over the covers of the full sized bed. sukuna simply crosses the small room, and drops onto the empty side of the bed. the mattress dips under his weight, drawing a small shuffle from yuuji, but sukuna’s already gone. his eyes shut, and his body gives out the second he hits the sheets.
———
your lips part into a small smile, eyes soft but distant, your mind is already drifting somewhere else as your stomach churns with something uneasy. utahime invited a few of her friends out with you and shoko, and the place is packed. the bar is crowded, loud, warm, and full of people clinging to the last bit of freedom before summer actually begins.
everyone’s talking about something. internships, trips, plans, and you find yourself wondering how many people in here would rather stay exactly where they are than go home. there’s definitely a few. it’s not just you. but utahime isn’t one of them.
she’s mid-conversation with the girls she brought, laughing lightly as she talks about still deciding whether to take that internship or not. you catch pieces of it, enough to make your chest tighten, and you hate yourself for it. you’re happy for her. of course you are. but god—you’d take anything over going back home in a few weeks to work at the hospital.
“are you sure?” shoko interrupts, her drink already half gone, eyes flicking over you like she knows you’ve been somewhere else this entire time.
you snort, nodding. “obviously. my sister isn’t gonna be in her room anyway.”
shoko sighs in relief, shoulders dropping. “thank yooou, i would’ve taken your floor too.”
you laugh, shaking your head, but it fades quickly. your mind drifts again. your chest tightens.
you really are a fucking failure.
the thought hits hard this time, sitting heavier in your stomach. three years in school and you couldn’t land a single internship. not one. all you wanted was to try something—anything—that isn’t doing clinics at a fucking hospital. you just wanted to see what another life would be like. one that wouldn’t make you anxious, or have you feeling empty.
but no. life has other plans.
and those plans are dragging you back home for another suffocating summer, stuck in a hospital you hate, with your father watching you too closely, asking too many questions about a future you don’t even understand yourself. and god forbid you say you’re unsure. even worse is the look they give you when you admit you’re still figuring things out. and you can’t even stand up for yourself, which everyone loved to shove in your face.
seriously! three years in and you’re still lost? it’s pathetic. you press your lips together, jaw tightening as the thoughts spiral. they’re constant, familiar. and then—
the door swings open. a burst of noise cuts through the bar as a group of rowdy frat boys and athletes pile in. they’re laughing loud, and their energy is immediate. many heads turn instinctively, the shift in atmosphere familiar to the group.
shoko is the first to notice.
“oh they made it.” she’s already grinning as she spots her two close friends in the bunch. “yo!” she calls. your brows pinch slightly as you glance over. gojo and geto spotting their brunette friend, dragging along a surprisingly willing nanami, behind them. a few others flood in as well, loud and chaotic as ever.
you subtly sit up in anticipation. your eyes quietly scanning the group without meaning to.….
where is he?
you swallow, something tight forming in your throat as you shift in your seat, crossing your legs slowly, like it’ll ground you. he left your apartment yesterday afternoon. you don’t know when exactly, all you remember is the quiet disappointment you felt when you sat up on your bed, half expecting him to come out of the bathroom and give you another rough round of sex, to mush your brain up.
that’s the whole point of this. he’s left like this many times before. but this time you just…you wanted a little more before the break…
your gaze flicks back to the door, then to the group again.
he’s not here. does that mean he went back home already? that fast? your jaw tightens, fingers curling slightly around your glass as something uneasy settles deeper in your chest. you sure as hel didn’t come here for him, but now that your brain won’t quiet down, you wanted him to silence it for you.
“are these your first drinks?” gojo barks as he drops onto the stool across from you and shoko, already leaning too far forward like he’s been here for hours instead of minutes.
geto slides into the empty seat beside you, casual as ever, lifting your glass and bringing it to his nose. his brows knit almost immediately. “what—is this a virgin?”
shoko snorts, shoulders shaking beside you. you wave him off lazily, lips curling. “i was just warming myself up.”
“you warm yourself up with a drink before shots, not with a virgin!” gojo fires back, loud enough that a couple people nearby glance over in annoyance.
shoko leans across the table, sliding her drink toward him. “your warm-up is all you usually need, satoru.”
the frat president scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m actually much better at holding my liquor now.”
the lie sits there. then.
gojo, two drinks in and one shot later: wasted. you, one drink in and three shots later: wasted.
the bar is chaos. the music is too loud, lights too warm, voices overlapping until everything blends into one loud, buzzing blur. at some point, utahime’s friends join the table, then more people, then somehow you all migrate toward the dart boards in the back.
you’re laughing too loud. leaning too much. mostly on shoko. sometimes on gojo—who is absolutely no help, because he’s swaying just as bad, arm slung over your shoulders, yelling nonsense in your ear.
nanami stands off to the side, drink in hand, watching the two of you with thinly veiled disapproval, though there’s a faint hint of amusement in his eyes. geto’s not far behind him, a little too relaxed now, watching everything unfold like it’s entertainment as a few guys from the team chat with him.
and then there’s hiromi higurama. nanami’s friend, that rarely, if ever, makes an appearance. he’s a first year law student, who’s overstressed, sharp as shit, and he’s put-together in a way that doesn’t match the rest of you. but he’s here, along with a couple other law and grad students, leaning against the table like he got dragged here and decided to stay anyway. he’s older by only a couple years, but it shows in the way he carries himself and in the way he watches.
utahime lines up her shot. “comeback comeback,” she chants confidently. you and shoko are laughing, booing her as she squints, closing one eye, then the dart flies.
it hits the board, and of course, she immediately loses her balance— “shit!—” she stumbles back, catching herself and slamming right into you.
your footing slips just enough, a surprised laugh bursting out of you as you tip backwards. why’re you always falling?!
but then hand catches you. it’s steady and firm. higurama’s arm wraps around you just enough to keep you upright, pulling you back against the edge of the table before you can actually fall.
“careful,” he mutters, low, close to your ear.
you’re already laughing.
“i’m good—i’m good,” you insist, even though you’re still half-leaning into him for a second longer than necessary, your balance completely shot. and he doesn’t move right away. his arm loosens around your waist, but hovers close as you sway. his eyes soften, quietly watching you as you slap utahime lightly on the shoulder.
geto notices. his brows furrow slightly, just for a second, catching the way higurama’s gaze lingers. it’s subtle, but there.
meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious. already turning back, leaning into shoko again as gojo starts arguing about the rules of darts like he invented the fucking game.
“nahh you literally had us playing a different version last time,” you hiccup, words slurring together as you try to explain gojo’s made up rules he came up with a few weeks ago. no one fully understanding the direction of the conversation anymore as gojo scoffs, swaying as he shakes his head.
“no no no, last,” he hiccups, “last time, we were playing as individuals, now we’re—hic—we’re going—doing teams!”
“what’re you guys talking about?” higurama voice lowers, leaning down slightly, lips ghosting your ear so you can hear him over the music, eyes still on you.
“just something that happened at one of their frat parties,” you explain, gesturing vaguely toward gojo and geto, who are now mid-argument with utahime over who actually won the last round. your laugh bubbles up again, light, careless.
the rest of the night blurs. unaware of how your friends became just as distracted, and careless, that when you felt the same voice ghost your ear again, your mind couldn’t help the blurred image it was conjuring up.
“you want me to grab you some water?” the smooth voice of higurama had you swaying closer to hear him. he leans in, basically yelling over the music to repeat what he’d asked.
your hazy eyes hum, smiling widely when he passes you and the rest of the table some water bottles.
as the bar came to a close, your small group migrated to the pier. gojo and geto easily buying a couple six packs from the liquor store and meeting the rest of you guys on the picnic bench. gojo and nanami were in a heated argument about summer plans, whilst shoko sat on the table smoking her cigarette and passing up another drink.
“do you even here yourself,” nanami scoffs with uncanny annoyance. his face is dusted pink from the alcohol. his navy sweater is off and tossed over his shoulder, white tee straining over a surprising build of pure muscle. his large hand is still holding his half empty can of beer as he sneers at his high school friend.
“yeah i sound like a fucking genius—“
“I just told you I’m not—hic— I’m not gonna be free,” nanami is wasted, you guess he was just as a stressed during finals week. his jaw clenches as gojo laughs louder.
“you said you finish your work thing end of July, so the trip is planned for the next day!”
shoko and geto are in hysterics as gojo rage baits their poor friend. you’re still chatting with utahime, yuno, and higurama—wait—
“shouldn’t you be like, busy?” your voice cuts as you point to the stranger, higurama, with a raised brow.
the law student glances over. it isn’t a struggle when he’s been straddling the bench to lean an arm on the table and face you for the entirety of the time. a casual smile graces his lips, glancing at your expectant eyes, before shrugging.
“why would i be busy?”
“because you’re older, and in law school, so you should be busy, not—not hanging out with lo-hic-losers,” you slur. no filter much?
utahime gasps, her pale cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “I’m not a loser!”
yuno nods, absentmindedly, hand subtly brushing utahime’s wrist.
who isn’t drunk here?
“you know what I mean,” you mutter, speaking over the rim of your can. drinking sucks.
higurama raises a brow, fingers drumming over the surface of the table. his tie hangs around his shoulders and his dress shirt sleeves are rolled up. he quietly studies you. “I finished finals too. are law students not allowed to relax?”
you quietly absorb his words, glancing at his eyes then away. you shrug.
the man smiles, swinging his leg over, moving to stand up.
your eyes widen. wait, is he leaving??
“I’ll see ya kento,” he swings back the rest of his drink and leaves it with the rest of the empty cans on the table. he spares you a final glance, then walks away.
“what the—“ you gape, eyes snapping to utahime and yuno, drunk as shit and jaws agape. “that wasn’t because of me?”
“you basically asked him why the fuck he’s hanging out with us,” yuno calls out, utahime nods.
your face flushes hot, stomach churning with guilt, “that wasn’t—I didn’t say it like that.”
“sounded like it, babe,” utahime quietly agrees.
your brows furrow, glancing back at the man walking away. “now I feel bad,” you cringe at yourself, heart beating against your chest as you move before thinking, which usually happens when you get drunk.
“what’re you doing??” utahime gasps as you start sprinting towards higurama.
“to apologize!”
however, running and drinking wasn’t a very good combo, not only were you swaying, but your stomach was turning in a very familiar way.
“higu—“
your eyes widen. fuck.
you quickly detour to the bushes, stomach emptying onto the poor greenery. why are things turning out this way?
“why’d you do that?” the soft, firm hand on your back, briefly startles you, but you turn, puking some more. eyes tearing up.
“can you call ryo?” you mutter, mind still lost and not grasping the present.
“ryo?” higurama gently guides you to the empty bench closer to the water, and away from the bushes you barfed on. “sit down.”
you listen, body unable to unwind, as you rest your back against the seat, eyes distant as the waves crash. you swallow thickly, still catching your breath. the nausea lingers, sour and stubborn, sitting heavy in your chest.
“never mind,” you mumble after a second, voice hoarse. “ryo’s not here.” the words come out softer than you expect, and then they land. your brows pinch faintly. you’re only now realizing what you just said, who you just asked for. your stomach twists again—but this time it’s not from the alcohol.
higurama doesn’t comment on it. he just watches you for a moment longer before shifting beside you, settling onto the bench with a quiet exhale. his legs stretch out in front of him, dress shoes planted against the pavement, knees spread just enough to take up space. his sleeves are still rolled up to his forearms, the fabric slightly wrinkled now, the night has worn on him too. one hand rests loosely against his thigh, the other drapes along the back of the bench—close enough to you without actually touching.
for a while, neither of you say anything. just the sound of the water, waves crashing softly against the pier, steady. the noise fills the silence without demanding anything from it. you stare out at it, eyes unfocused, your mind drifting somewhere you don’t want to follow.
then, quietly…
“why did you….why did you decide on law?” it comes out almost absent. it feels like you’re asking just to fill the space. that’s what you tell yourself. but you quietly wait for his answer.
higurama glances at you, just briefly, before his gaze returns to the water. he takes his time answering. “i want to help people,” he says at first, simple, but his voice doesn’t stop there. “not in the… uh idealistic way people say it,” he adds, quieter now. “not like—saving the world or anything like that. the world’s fucking shit and people are cruel...”
you glance at him quietly.
his jaw shifts slightly, choosing his words carefully. “i just… didn’t like how often people get stuck with decisions that aren’t really theirs. bad situations. bad systems. and no one actually explains anything to them.” he exhales softly through his nose, fingers tapping once against his leg. “so i figured if i study it, maybe i could make it a little less unfair for someone.”
there’s no arrogance in it. no need for validation. just matter-of-fact.
you look away from him, eyes fixed on the water, watching the way it moves. the constant, endlessness of it… it knows where it’s going even when you don’t. your chest tightens faintly, something uncomfortable settling deep in your ribs, because he sounds so sure. even in the way he talks about it, even with his pauses, he still chose something and committed to it. like he knows why he’s here…unlike you,
your fingers curl slightly in your lap. “that’s…” you start, but the word trails off, dissolving before it can become anything real. you don’t finish it. instead, you just nod a little to yourself, swallowing whatever else was going to come out, letting the silence settle back in.
this time, it feels heavier.
he’s quiet for a moment after you trail off, the sound of the water filling in the space again. then, without looking at you, he asks, “why are you doing medicine?”
the question hits harder than it should. it’s simple. but it lands somewhere deep. your breath stutters, just slightly, and before you can stop it—before you can control it—you feel it. that awful, tight pressure climbing up your chest, wrapping around your throat like a wire pulling too tight.
fuck. this is why you hate drinking.
your eyes sting, vision blurring as you blink once, then again, trying to push it back down, but it doesn’t work. it never really does when you’re like this, when everything is already sitting too close to the surface. this is the reason you drank. you just wanted one night. one stupid, fun night with your friends before you all go for the summer. not this.
a tear slips down your cheek. then another. its’s quiet, you mood unannounced. higurama notices immediately, because you don’t even try to hide it.
“i don’t know,” you admit, voice small and uneven. your gaze stays forward, locked on the water like if you look anywhere else you might actually break. “i don’t know if i wanna do it… but like—” your throat tightens, words catching. “i don’t know what to do.”
it comes out in pieces. fragile. honest even though you didn’t mean to be and in a way you rarely ever just say without feeling like you’re being judged. but you’re too drunk to feel insecure or embarrassed.
higurama doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his gaze drifts back to the waves, giving you space while he stays right there beside you.
his arm, that was resting on the back of the bench, gently brushes your arm. steady, grounding, and nothing more. it’s not possessive. not suggestive. just… there. and you don’t even realize that he’s not looking at you like that, anymore. not right now. whatever flicker of interest was there earlier is gone and now replaced with something calmer and more aware.
you swallow, voice quieter now. “did you always know what you wanted?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “or did you just… force yourself to like it?”
higurama exhales softly, leaning back against the bench, arm still resting around you. his head tilts slightly as he looks out at the water again, thinking.
“I highly doubt anyone knows what they’re doing,” he says after a beat. “people just get better at pretending they do.” there’s a faint edge of something dry in his tone. “people talk about ‘paths’ like they’re set. like you pick one thing and it just… works out.” he shakes his head slightly. “it doesn’t. it’s more like… a series of decisions you keep making, even when you’re not sure they’re right.”
his fingers tap lightly against your arm, absent and thoughtful. “law’s the same way. I mean you build a case with what you have, not what you wish you had. you take the risk, present the argument, and hope it holds.” he pauses. “sometimes it doesn’t.”
you nod slowly, even if your chest still feels tight, trying to absorb his words, trying to make it mean something for you. “so what if it doesn’t?” you murmur, voice still unsteady. “what if i’m already behind?”
he glances at you this time, properly. “behind who?” he asks simply.
you hesitate.
“…everyone,” you admit, quieter. “i’ve been doing the same thing every summer at a hospital. same place. same freaking thing. and everyone else is… doing something.”
“do you have something else you wanna try?” he asks.
you shrug, small, helpless. “i don’t know…” your voice dips, wavering, but you push through it anyway. “i want to do something else… but i don’t have something, like, to show for it. like an internship for it, or—” you swallow hard, the words catching before they can fully form, cutting yourself off before it turns into something else. you shrug instead, tighter this time, like you’re trying to make it seem smaller than it feels.
higurama watches you for a second, piecing together what you’re actually saying underneath it.
“you still have the hospital, though,” he says evenly. it’s not dismissive, he’s just stating it.
you make a face immediately, gaze dropping. “yeah…”
“are you there the whole summer?”
you shake your head. “no… just a few weeks. my dad makes me do it every summer.”
there’s a small pause.
“then what’s stopping you?” he asks.
you blink, glancing at him like the question doesn’t fully register at first. “from what?”
“from trying something else for the rest of it,” he says simply. “you’re acting like you need something official to justify trying something else. you don’t.”
his shoulders lift in a small shrug. “internships are just structured ways to prove interest. they’re not the only way to have it.”
your brows pinch slightly, listening.
“if you already know you don’t like the hospital, then fine. do your time there,” he continues, tone calm, grounded. “but after that? you’ve got like a month or a few weeks or whatever to do something else. you don’t need a title to start figuring something out, and I’m guessing you just wanted the title to show that you’re not behind.”
he glances at you again, more direct now. his voice softens just a fraction. “you don’t need to be good at it yet. you just need to start somewhere. but if your parents are anything like mine, then I’m guessing they just want you to do something in the summer.”
you nod, quietly.
“don’t stress too much. people change their minds every day, and at least you’re interested in something else,” he speaks like it’s that easy, and maybe in your drunk mind, your walls have come down low enough to really listen. and it could also be because you’ve heard of higurama and how hard working he is from nanami. so maybe his words mean a little more than your dad, or your sisters. “what exactly do you wanna do?”
you wet your lips, and higurama quietly notes how you’ve stopped crying. “I wanna work in film, like screenwriting, or producing.”
his eyes widen. “for real?”
you nod, swallowing the anxious feelings threatening to bubble up after admitting it to a complete stranger. “I’m minoring in film right now, but i really like it.”
higurama hums, sitting up straighter. “you’re working at your dad’s hospital in the summer?”
“it’s not my dad’s hospital, he’s an attending there, but like it’s not like he owns it—but yeah,” you correct, a slight tone shift in your voice, which higurama dismisses.
he reaches for his phone, arm moving from around your shoulder. “pretty sure my uncle has some crazy contacts. he…was anentertainment lawyer for this production company a couple years ago. if you want I can see if he can give me a contact and try and introduce you for some informational meeting or something.”
your eyes burst with light.
“wait for real???”
higurama nods, “everything is about fucking connections in that industry.” you nod along as he finds his uncle’s contact, texting him, then handing you his phone. “add your number and email so I can send them to him too when he gets the contact.” you nod again, sitting straight as you quickly type your info. “have you had any meetings with industry people?”
you shake your head, “just like, meetings with my professors,” you hand him back his phone.
“no stress,” higurama reassures, saving your contact and turning his phone off. “most first meetings like these always go the same. it’s about networking and you have a connection, so hopefully when my uncle introduces you to whoever, you have to make sure you get out of that meeting with another contact, and it’s just like a string until something sticks.”
you’re nodding along.
“wait,” your eyes widen. he quirks a brow. “I’m like really drunk, I don’t wanna forget this,” you freak.
higurama snorts, pulling up your contact again, “I’ll text you what I just said,” he slouches on the bench, amused when you lean close watching him type everything.
“you got it man?!” gojo slurs, him and geto crowded around his phone as they watch their soccer captain scowl at them through facetime.
“I can’t understand a fucking word you idiots are saying,” he snaps from the other side.
gojo groans, nanami’s head popping in as he turns gojo’s wrist. “we’re planning the trip—and he’s not listening to anyone—“
“you’re the one that’s not listening, i gave you dates that work—“
“they don’t work!” nanami barks, face flaming with anger and the liquor he should put down.
sukuna licks his teeth, “call me back when you dickheads are sober—“
“waaaaittt,” gojo whines, freeing his wrist from nanami’s grip with tug, and inevitably falling off the seat. his phone clatters on the floor. another figure picks it up.
utahime.
“oh, you.” she frowns at the sight of the man. sukuna frowns in return. unlike gojo and geto and the rest of the guys that loosely know about his relationship with you. he’s assuming shoko and utahime are definitely less forgiving of the argument you guys had, and even if you made up, he doubts you filled them in since it was less than 48 hours ago. “just because—“ hiccup.
great, everyone is drunk.
“because you’re sleeping with my best friend, d-doesn’t mean I like you—“ utahime slurs, pointing at the screen. at sukuna. “and she’s—“
in the minor distraction, utahime waves her crush to shh. “did you hear what I said—“
“yeah. did ya talk to her, or are you too drunk?” sukuna grumbles in disinterest, ready to hang up any second. he moves from his place on the couch, to the kitchen. yuuji, megumi, and their other friend, nobara, are still shouting in the background. video game blasting in the living room.
“no I’m not talking to her, she’s over there talking to k-ken’s friend and—hic—I’m talking to you right now, duh,” utahime scoffs.
sukuna’s movements halt.
huh?
“who?” he asks before thinking.
utahime glances over at yuno pointing off screen. “what was his name—oh higu—higu-“
“higurama?”
utahime hums, “yeah, higurama. nanami’s law friend. they’re talking over there.” she raises the phone without really thinking, flipping the screen toward the pier.
the camera wobbles for a second before it steadies, and there you are. not with them. not near the table. you’re off to the side, sitting on one of the benches closer to the water, the distance obvious even through the shitty front camera quality. the rest of the group is loud, clustered together under the dim pier lights, but you drifted off and just stayed there.
you’re leaning in slightly, shoulder angled toward higurama, your body turned to face him more than anything else. close enough to look familiar. close enough to look comfortable.
he’s saying something—something sukuna can’t hear—and for a second, he lifts his phone between you, showing you something on the screen. but from this angle, it just looks like you’re sitting back, smiling at him, soft and distracted, your voice faint in the background as it carries over the speaker. whatever you’re saying, it’s looser and easy. too easy.
something in sukuna’s stomach twists, sharp and unpleasant. he pushes it down immediately.
“why’re they talking away from the rest of you?” he asks, voice flat, edged with something colder than it needs to be. he pulls out a drink from the fridge.
utahime squints at the screen, words a little slurred. “she was kinda mean—not really—but like, she’s drinking—which is—we should stop—but she went to apologize and now they’re talking.” she shrugs, already half over it.
gojo suddenly leans into frame, grinning like he just found something unbelievably entertaining. “oh yeah—you see ’em?” he laughs, keeping the phone angled right on you and higurama.
sukuna clicks his tongue, irritation slipping through. “why’re you fucking laughing?”
“because you’re pissed,” gojo shoots back instantly, grin widening.
sukuna scowls, jaw tightening. “i’m not fucking pissed, you fucking idiot.”
but his eyes don’t leave the screen. don’t leave you. and they don’t miss the way you tilt your pretty head when you listen. the way you shift a little closer without thinking. the way your attention is fully on someone else. his grip tightens slightly around his phone, looking away.
are you gonna text him before or after you fuck this guy, he thinks. his tongue drags slow against his teeth, jaw tightening as he leans back slightly, eyes glancing up at his brother and his friends.
“oh—they’re coming back!” gojo calls suddenly, voice bright with amusement.
and sure enough, you’re walking back toward the group with higurama right beside you, like nothing ever happened. like you didn’t just disappear with him for however long. you’re still talking, hands moving as you explain something, a little too animated, a little too loose from the alcohol. your head tips toward him when he responds, eyes flicking up to his face again—and again—and again.
higurama says something that makes you laugh, and it’s soft, quieter than the way you usually laugh with them. your shoulder brushes his arm for a second as you walk, not even noticing it
sukuna’s expression doesn’t change. but something inside his stomach hardens. his gaze tracks you the entire way back, slow, deliberate. the way you close the distance. the way you don’t rush it. the way you look…comfortable. his grip shifts on the phone, thumb pressing harder than necessary against the edge. he’s leaning against the counter, jaw tight when your hand fixes the strap of your top, laughing when shoko makes a comment he barely hears.
“see?” gojo hums, smug, leaning closer to the camera. “you got competition now.”
sukuna exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “shut the fuck up.”
gojo cackles loudly, and you glance over. “who’re you guys talking too?” you slide beside nanami, leaning over just for gojo to turn the screen towards you.
your stomach flips so fast it almost hurts. your whole body heats in an instant. ryo. it slips out before you even think about it. and you don’t realize how soft it sounds until you say it again, a little lighter this time, a small smile pulling at your lips like it’s second nature. your tone is gentler than usual, looser—too loose—and it’s obvious. you’re drunk. so drunk. because why are you saying his name like that?
why does it feel so easy?
on the other end, sukuna stills for half a second. it doesn’t stop the way something warm settles low in his stomach. behind you, higurama’s attention shifts at the name. his gaze drifts over your shoulder, landing on the screen. the familiar face tattoos clicks almost immediately.
…oh. so that’s who you were calling. sukuna…but…ryo? his brows knit faintly, something quiet and curious settling in his chest. are you guys dating?
he doesn’t ask it out loud. just watches. you don’t notice any of it, too busy leaning closer into frame, lips parting as you talk. “you’re missing out,” you say, voice bright despite the slight slur. “we were playing darts earlier and you should’ve been here because freaking gojo was being an ass about the rules again—” you laugh, the memory still obnoxiously funny.
and sukuna hates himself a little. hates the way his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. the way he nods once, slow. the way his neck cracks as he tilts his head back, trying to ease the tension sitting there.
from the living room behind him, one of his brother yells about something, loud and distant, but it barely registers because you’re still on his screen. you’re not dating. you guys have both been very clear about the terms and conditions. so why not indulge? you’re free. he’s free. there are conditions for a reason—
“i’ll send you the video when i get home,” you add lightly, like it’s nothing. “my phone died.”
and just like that, everything in his head goes quiet. because now he’s going to be waiting for it. waiting for you to text him. and fuck if he’ll ever admit that shit.
“…yeah,” he hums, softer than before, almost absent, like it just slipped out. his eyes don’t leave the screen or more specifically, you.
your face fills it completely now. your lips, the ones he knows too well, the taste of them when you roll your tongue over his. your cheeks, the ones that get damp the second he fucks you a little harder. your eyes— those same eyes. the ones that look up at him like you want something. like you expect something. like he’s the only one that can give it to you.
his grip tightens just slightly around the phone. and for a second he forgets anyone else is even there. and even if gojo took the phone away and sukuna basically hung up afterwards. he ignored whatever tug he felt in his chest. and he seriously couldn’t care to answer gojo’s calls again.
“are you gonna play with us now?” yuuji calls as sukuna makes his way back.
“yeah,” sukuna simply confirms, dropping back onto the couch.
he doesn’t catch the way yuuji’s entire face lights up, and how quick the kid straightens, already reaching for the controller—because the front door suddenly slams open so hard it rattles the walls.
“what the fuc—” sukuna snaps, already halfway up again.
two high schoolers freeze in the doorway. choso is slumped between them. one of them, ino, goes rigid the second his eyes land on sukuna. the other, mechamaru, panics instantly, hands fumbling where they’re hooked under choso’s arms.
“what the hell is his brother doing here?!” mechamaru screeches, trying to pivot like he can somehow leave with choso still half-dragged between them.
“shit—I forgot he came this morning!” ino swears.
“you forgot—?” mechamaru freaks.
they’re somehow out the door again, then they both stall on the front steps. because the air shifts, drops, and something heavier settles in the space between them. sukuna is standing at the door, blocking the light from reaching them, creating a shadow over the high schoolers.
“what the fuck happened to him?” sukuna barks. his tone is sharp, cutting right through them. they turn back slowly.
sukuna is down the two steps in seconds. his hand comes up, gripping choso’s jaw, forcing his head up. choso barely resists, head lolling slightly, eyes glassy and unfocused. his cheeks are flushed, lips parted, breath uneven—
and it hits him. the smell. sukuna’s expression twists instantly, something dark snapping into place behind his eyes.
“is he drunk?” he asks. but it’s not really a question. his grip tightens. “answer me.”
mechamaru confesses instantly. “we got asked to play at a party, and we went because it’ll also be great practice, before the competition, but after—“ he glances at ino, now hesitant. “we were dragged to do drinks.”
“by who?” sukuna is already grabbing his brother, easily tossing his arm over his shoulder and lifting the teen up. choso mutters something incoherent.
“these guys from the baseball team.”
sukuna’s face twists, “baseball?” the disgust in his tone was evident.
ino fixes his beanie, nodding. “yeah, guess it was their party, but um I’m pretty sure they’re friends with these guys that’are also gonna play at the concert, and it looks like they were picking at us.”
“doesn’t explain why cho’s the only one that can’t fucking walk,” sukuna barks. the two teens confusing him even more.
the two nod frantically. “yeah, choso got pissed when he realized we just played our new songs to a bunch of ops, so he wanted to prove them wrong.”
sukuna deadpans. “and you two let ‘him?”
ino quickly replies, fidgeting with his hair that peaks from his beanie. “no, we told him not too. but by the time he agreed, those baseball dicks told us to shut the fuck up, and they wouldn’t let us get to him until choso ended up like this.”
sukuna licks his teeth, jaw tight as he glances at choso.
“we got him out the second they let go of us,” mechamaru adds.
sukuna silently notes the concern written on the faces of his little brother’s friends.
“do you know how much he drank?”
the two glance at one another, shifting their weight, before shaking their heads in defeat.
sukuna straightens up. choso’s head lulls to his shoulder.
“woah, what happened to cho?”
a small voice booms from behind them. yuuji stands at the door, eyes wide and brows pulled together. megumi and nobara glance from their seats on the floor.
“he’s not feeling well,” sukuna responds. he dismisses the two high schoolers, and turns back to the house.
choso groans as he’s hoisted up the two steps. the front door slams behind them.
“is he drunk?” yuuji blurts, already stepping in the way, trying to peer up at choso’s face.
“yuuuuji,” choso slurs, head lolling toward him, cheeks flushed an ugly shade of pink.
“yuuji, grab some water for him,” sukuna cuts in, already moving, arm hooked tight around choso as he drags him further into the house. he doesn’t make it past the hallway when—
“wait—” choso chokes, eyes widening, hand coming up weakly, “i’m gonna puke—”
“shit—”
sukuna doesn’t hesitate. he yanks him sideways, practically hauling him into the bathroom and shoving him down in front of the toilet just in time. choso barely gets his hands on the seat before he’s throwing up. loud. violent. his whole body jerks with it, his shoulders heaving as he gags, groaning in between, completely gone.
sukuna stands over him for a second, jaw tight, watching him?, then he crouches down, hand bracing his shoulder so he doesn’t tip forward.
“fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters under his breath, but it lacks bite.
choso retches again, weaker this time, whimpering slightly when it finally slows.
and sukuna frowns…all he can see is himself. his chest tightens. a small, ugly part of him twists with something that feels too close to guilt. why the fuck is he like this? why is choso trying to prove anything at all at some shitty high school party?
her.
the image hits him out of nowhere. sharp. intrusive. his step-mother’s face, her voice, the way she worms her way into everything. the way she still haunts him, and now choso… his jaw clenches so hard it aches. he wants to rip the thought out of his own head.
“i don’t…” choso mumbles weakly, voice slurring into itself. his head drops against his arm, propped on the toilet seat. “i don’t wan’ you-you being mad…”
sukuna stills.
choso’s brows knit together, drunk mind scrambling, trying to hold onto something that’s floating. “i don’t… mom is… she’s my mom… i just—” his voice cracks.
choso’s a sad drunk.
his eyes gloss over, unfocused, bottom lip trembling slightly as he breathes unevenly. “i wanna talk to my mom…”
something in sukuna snaps tight in his chest. his jaw sets hard. he doesn’t say anything. he can’t when choso’s vulnerable like this. but his grip tightens just slightly on choso’s shoulder.
no.
that woman is not getting anywhere near him. near any of them. doesn’t matter how much choso cries. doesn’t matter how much he fucking asks or begs. the answer will always be no. she’s a fucking cancer.
“here’s some water,” yuuji pipes up, appearing in the doorway with a glass, then immediately recoils. “ewww.”
sukuna exhales through his nose, grabbing the glass without looking at him. “yeah, we’re not telling gramps.”
yuuji straightens a little, arms crossing like he’s being let in on something serious. “our secret?”
“m’not…” choso mumbles, but he obeys anyway, taking a few messy gulps before coughing, water dribbling down his chin.
“yuuji, go grab me the ibuprofen,” sukuna adds without looking up.
“got it,” yuuji nods, already darting off.
choso slumps back against the tub once he’s done, head tipping back, eyes barely open. sukuna reaches over, flushing the toilet and shutting the lid. choso keeps mumbling…
“i’m not… hic—m’not an idiot…”
yuuji reappears in the doorway, curious now, watching like it’s a show. sukuna glances up at him briefly, grabbing the bottle, before looking back at choso.
“i know how she waas…” choso continues, voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “why you left me and yuuji—”
sukuna’s jaw locks, hard. his expression doesn’t change, not when his brothers are right there. but the tension in his shoulders spikes, something heavy settling behind his eyes and over his chest, as he stares at choso.
and for a second he doesn’t know what the fuck to say.
choso’s eyes well up, slumping even more as his knee comes up. his face presses into his arm, hair falling over his face in a tangled mess. “but she…”
yuuji steps closer, small brows knitting together as he leans toward sukuna. “who’s she?” he whispers.
sukuna exhales through his nose. “no clue.” he straightens, already reaching down to haul choso back up. “let’s get him to bed.”
it’s messy. choso barely helps, weight sagging into sukuna as he drapes an arm over his shoulders. sukuna adjusts his grip, one hand firm at his side, the other keeping him upright as they shuffle down the hallway. sukuna basically lifting him the entire way.
“move,” sukuna mutters.
yuuji is already ahead of them, darting into choso’s room. he kicks a pile of clothes out of the way, yanking the blanket back.
sukuna lowers choso onto the bed with a quiet grunt, guiding him down instead of dropping him. choso immediately curls in on himself, still mumbling, words slurring into nothing.
“turn,” sukuna orders, nudging his shoulder until choso rolls onto his side. he adjusts him without much patience, but careful enough, one arm tucked, head angled. sukuna adjusts one of the throw pillows behind choso’s back. he groans, but settles. sukuna pulls the blanket over him, tugging it up to his shoulder.
for a second, he just stands there. watching.
yuuji edges closer, peering up at sukuna’s face, then back at choso. “it’s not good that he was drinking, right?”
sukuna stifles a yawn, dragging a hand down his face, but his mind is still stuck, looping on choso’s words.
“no,” he mutters. “it’s not good.”
yuuji shifts, frowning. “then why aren’t you mad?”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. his eyes stay on choso, something tight pulling low in his chest before he finally says, quieter, “i’m upset.”
yuuji’s expression softens almost instantly. he leans into sukuna’s side without thinking, small and warm. sukuna’s hand comes up automatically, rough palm settling on his head before ruffling his hair.
“i’m gonna stay in ’ere with him,” sukuna says, nudging him gently toward the door. “so go play.”
yuuji stumbles a step from the push, but stops at the doorway, hesitating. his lips press together, jaw tightening just a little. “aren’t you gonna play? you said you would.”
sukuna drops into the old lounge chair in the corner with a low grunt, legs spreading out, shoulders heavy as he sinks back into it. he barely spares him a glance. “i gotta watch choso.”
“but he’s sleeping,” yuuji argues quietly.
sukuna’s gaze flicks back to choso. “he’s drunk as shit. you want him choking on his vomit?”
yuuji’s face scrunches. “no.” his voice is small.
“we’ll play tomorrow,” sukuna says, already closing his eyes, tone coming off more dismissive than he intended or even thought about.
yuuji lingers for a second longer, then disappears down the hall. the room goes quiet. just choso’s uneven breathing. the faint hum of the house. sukuna sinks deeper into the chair, head tipping back, eyes shut. his body aches in that dull, heavy, almost like he’s expecting something that’s inevitably coming…
his step-mother. his eyes shut, fuck everything is tangling together he must have drifted at some point, barely asleep, barely conscious, because the sudden buzz of his phone cuts through it like a blade. punishing him for the delusion that he had a little bit more time.
he fishes his phone out of his pocket, blinking at the screen.
toji.
———
you quickly grab the handle of your apartment building before you trip again. a light laugh escapes as a hand holds your waist steady.
“you sure you’re okay?” shoko asks, other hand coming up to her face. her head is spinning.
you mutter out something, fishing for your keys. shoko sways, waiting patiently, along with the halted uber with the rest of the gang inside, well except for higurama who left once you all got in the uber, and utahime and yuno…
“okayokay I’m inside, byebye!”
you’re stumbling into your apartment, drunk as hell, the door barely shutting behind you before you’re already kicking your shoes off across the floor. your balance wobbles, fingers clumsy as they fumble with the zipper of your jeans, a quiet huff leaving you when it snags for a second before finally giving.
you peel them off with far less grace than you’d like, stepping out of them and leaving them abandoned somewhere behind you. your top follows, dragging it over your head, then your bra—gone just as quickly, tossed without care. the apartment is warm, it’s thick with that early summer heat, and your skin practically sighs in relief as you’re left in nothing but your panties.
you don’t even bother covering yourself. your body is loose, uncoordinated. your chest rises and falls a little deeper than usual, and with every step, there’s that soft, natural movement. your bare skin warm, your body relaxed in a way it only gets when you’re like this. the moment you reach your bed, you collapse onto it.
your phone slips from your hand, bouncing once against the sheets as you roll onto your side, face pressing into the pillow. your lashes flutter lazily as the screen lights up beside you. notifications stacking from family group chats, names you don’t have the energy to read right now.
but one name floats to the front of your mind. one. and before you can even think it through, your fingers are already moving.
the phone rings. once. twice. then—
“hello?”
his voice is rough. low, edged with sleep, and something else you can’t quite place in your state.
you shift slightly, your phone resting near your cheek, heat spreading there as you breathe out, “ryo…”
there’s a pause. then a quiet hum on his end, fabric shifting as he moves. “you just got home?”
you answer with a soft, tired hum, eyes slipping half-shut. your lips part slightly as you exhale, tongue darting out to wet them without thinking. your head feels lighter now, the alcohol settling into something softer, slower, but it leaves your voice like honey, sweet, drawn out.
on the other end, sukuna’s jaw tightens.
“are you upset?” you ask, absent, like the thought just wandered into your head and out your mouth.
“why would i be upset?”
you make a small sound, barely there. “dunno… you just sound… like it,” you murmur, sighing into your pillow.
there’s a brief silence.
“you should get some sleep,” sukuna says, more abrupt now. a little colder, but it barely registers through the haze.
“I wan’ed to uh…” you yawn, words slurring together. “m’ gonna go home.”
his tone shifts instantly. “where the fuck are you now?”
you hum, too slow, too tired to match his urgency. “mmm… i mean… to my parents… next week,” you mumble. “i’m gonna do the hospital thing.”
he hesitates. you can’t see it, but he does, because last time, you shut that conversation down fast. hell, he doesn’t even know why you’re telling him this, so now he just… waits.
on your end, your breathing softens. a quiet, shaky exhale leaves you as your fingers curl slightly into the sheets. “i…” you swallow, eyes stinging faintly. “that’s okay, right?”
his breath catches, just barely. what is it with drunk people tonight…
“…yeah,” he says finally, quieter. not fully understanding the entire context, but answering anyway.
you don’t question the way you relax just a little.
“o…kay,” you murmur, softer now. then… “i wish… you were here.”
there’s a beat. and then, his lip quirks faintly, voice dipping. “so you can fuck yourself on me?”
you let out a light, airy laugh, barely there, bringing the phone closer, like his voice could comfort you the way his body does. “yeah…”
a pause. then softer, unguarded… “you always make me feel good, ryo.”
and he stills. completely.
shit.. he exhales, slow. his hand drags up his face as his head tips back against the chair. the room is quiet only broken by the faint shift of choso on the bed and the distant hum of the house settling at night. the silence only makes the way his chest is beating just a little louder in his ears.
“ryo,” you breathe again, even softer this time. he hums, voice even, steady. on the other end, your lashes grow too heavy to fight. your lips part slightly as your voice slips out, barely there, “g’night.”
there’s no response. not right away. because by the time he opens his mouth, you’re already gone your breathing evens out, soft and slow through the phone, quiet enough that he almost misses it at first. but then it settles into a rhythm, steady, warm, unmistakable. you fell asleep. still on the call.
sukuna doesn’t hang up. he just… listens. eyes still closed, head tipped back, phone pressed loosely to his ear as your breathing fills the silence on his end. it’s strange, how something so small manages to take up so much space in his head.
his mind drifts. back to the last time he saw you. saturday afternoon. less than 48 hours ago. the way he’d rushed out of your apartment without looking back, already halfway gone before the door even shut behind him. this is the first time you’ve called him like this and he didn’t show up. didn’t end with him pushing you into a mattress, didn’t end with his hands on you, your voice in his ear for a completely different reason.
if he was still on campus, he would’ve came. no question. but he’s not there. and somehow…that makes this feel different. a kind of different he doesn’t sit with for too long. doesn’t want to sit with. so he pushes it down, like he does everything else and focuses instead on the sound of you breathing—soft, steady—and he finds himself annoyed for a reason he doesn’t fully unpack.
he should be hearing it closer. your breathing against his ear, against his chest. your body warm, tucked into him the way it always ends up.
you said you wish he was there because he makes you feel good. his jaw tightens slightly. you make him feel good too. too fucking good. and with everything else tangled in his head, his family, choso, her, his call before this, the future—you’re the only thing that’s pretty simple. you don’t shift. it’s the routine. the sex. you. and it’s something he can actually count on.
his grip tightens faintly around his phone, thumb pressing against the edge of it as he exhales again, slower this time. summer stretches out in front of him. and in the quiet of that room, with your breathing in his ear and everything else sitting heavy in his chest, all he can think is:
summer is going to be hell.
— THREE WEEKS LATER —
the field sits just off the small town’s coast. the air tastes like salt and the wind carries the distant crash of waves. it’s late afternoon, sun still high, heat clinging to everything and sukuna is drenched.
sweat slicks down his chest, dragging along the hard lines of muscle, catching in the dips of his collarbones before trailing lower. his back is worse, broad, defined, and every movement is pulling the ink stretched across his skin. the tattoos curl over his shoulders, down his back, around his biceps. and his hair is damp, sticking slightly to his forehead, breath heavier from drills, but controlled.
people notice. a couple women slow their walk along the path by the beach, voices dropping as their eyes linger. some just outright staring.
sukuna jogs up to the benches, grabbing the water bottle toji tosses his way without breaking stride. the plastic cracks slightly under his grip before he twists it open, taking a long drink, water spilling down his throat, over his chin, dripping onto his chest.
“anything?” he asks, voice rougher now.
toji doesn’t answer right away, just hands him the folder.
sukuna takes it, flipping it open with one hand. “what’s this?”
beside him, shiu kong flicks ash from the cigarette hanging off his lip, leaning forward slightly as he talks. “background check on her partner came back clean. his money’s real, and his business checks out.”
sukuna’s eyes scan the pages. bank statements. employment records. a couple photos clipped in.
“those three years she disappeared?” shiu continues, “she spent em in china for about a year. then the rest in the UK.”
sukuna flips a page. his brows pull together slightly. “so?” he mutters.
toji exhales through his nose, scratching at his chin. “yeah, shiu, i thought you’d come back with somethin’ we can actually use.”
shiu snorts quietly. “you didn’t read all of it,” he shuts toji up. sukuna keeps reading, slower now. there’s a pause. then shiu tilts his head, cigarette shifting between his lips. “it doesn’t look like she went overseas just to hide from those lawsuits.”
sukuna’s eyes flick up briefly. “what d’ya mean?”
shiu leans back slightly, more relaxed than the tension building in front of him. “after she got out of jail, she worked at that loan company job for about a year, that’s where she got tied up with the lawsuit.”
“i know that part,” sukuna cuts in, flipping another page. “that’s all you fucking gave us a million weeks ago.”
“yeah, well,” shiu shrugs, ignoring the aggression. “one of the clients she was stealing from wasn’t just some idiot with bad credit and needed a loan.”
toji’s brows lift slightly, sitting up and waving sukuna to hand him back the folder,
“the guy had some connections,” shiu continues. “small operations, but enough to make things messy. when the lawsuit started closing in, he’s the one that got her out.”
sukuna’s jaw tightens.
“paid for her to leave the country,” shiu adds. “china first. she worked under him there, nothing flashy. looks like she was just working as a personal accountant and was moving around money, setting up accounts under different names. it’s pretty clean to not get caught, but if someone looks closer the numbers are just off.”
toji reads through the last few pages. they were thinner. notes, partial records, but not enough to actually start any shit with her.
“and the UK?” toji asks.
shiu shrugs again. “that’s where she met her new guy. your step-mom’s got a type, men with money and enough ego to overlook the rest.”
toji huffs a quiet laugh at that. sukuna doesn’t. he’s still staring at the page in toji’s hands, arms crossed over his chest.
“she cut ties with the china contact once she secured her new situation,” shiu adds. “so she got a completely clean slate with this guy. or as clean as she could manage. she started working for him as an accountant, still works for him, but dating now.”
toji glances at him. “it’s something.”
“it’s not enough,” sukuna snaps immediately. his patience has been shot for weeks. watching choso. waiting. thinking.
“we can push this on her,” toji starts, leaning forward, “and bring up the lawsuit again, tie it with this—”
“she’ll deny it,” sukuna cuts him off.
“then we—”
“she’ll deny it,” sukuna repeats, sharper this time, eyes flicking up, irritation clear. “and she’ll try an get choso, and he’s fucking desperate to give her a chance. no. you said we’d make her leave for good, so this is all fucking shit!”
sukuna runs a hand through his damp hair, exhaling hard through his nose, chest rising and falling heavier now.
“i need something more concrete,” he mutters. “something she can’t fucking, snake her way out of like a fucking cockroach.”
“i can look into that china contact,” shiu says simply. “I’ve got some people that can ask around.”
toji glances at sukuna, jaw setting before he nods. “yeah, that’s good.”
sukuna doesn’t respond. his eyes are staring up, jaw tightening. the ocean crashes in the distance. he doesn’t make a move once shiu leaves. not until toji is clearing his throat.
“i don’t know what you’re expecting.”
sukuna feels something harden inside. eyes deadly sharp as they glare at his long time friend and coach.
“you think we’re gonna uncover some body with her fingerprints on them?”
sukuna tsks, rolling his eyes, “shut the fuck up.”
“I’m jus’ asking.”
“you’re being a fucking dick!” sukuna’s voice pierces the air, chest heaving. his heart pounds against his ribs, blood flowing in his ears. “she started messaging me, and we don’t have shit.”
toji’s gaze takes in the twenty-three year old, a small, but strong, string tugs in his chest as he remembers when he was thirteen. his jaw tightens. “i talked to wasuke, we both agree you should go.”
sukuna’s eyes snap up. harsh. mean. “what?”
“accept the offer, and go train with the team. it’s not the same club that asked you when y’ were in high school, but this is what you’ve been workin’ for. I’ll deal with shit here.”
a sudden fury crashes full force into the man. “you have no clue what the fuck I want—i want this shit to go away. if ya think I’m pissed because of the offer, I’m not. I’m pissed that I don’t have shit on that woman when you fucking told me to trust your dipshit friend!” sukuna’s words bite the air.
“yeah sure,” toji sighs. sukuna’s easily setting him off the more he pushes back.
sukuna snarls, eyes dark, his head tilts, sizing up the thirty-two year old coach. “ya have more to say?”
his vein snaps.
toji’s suddenly standing right in front of him, close enough that the heat from sukuna’s skin hasn’t even cooled yet. emerald eyes dark, steady, not backing down. for a second, it looks like it could tip. like sukuna might start something.
his shoulders are tight, chest still rising hard, jaw locked so tight it aches. the vein in his neck ticks, pulse loud in his ears, everything in him might snap in seconds. but toji doesn’t move. doesn’t flinch.
“yeah,” he says, voice lower now. calmer, but not softer. “i do.”
sukuna’s lip curls slightly, head tilting just enough to show teeth. “then say it.”
toji exhales through his nose. “you’re losing control like a fucking kid again.”
heavy silence follows. then sukuna lets out a dry, humorless huff. “watch your mouth.”
“or what?” toji shoots back immediately. “you gonna swing at me?” that almost does it. sukuna’s fist flexes at his side, fingers twitching like they’re deciding whether or not to hit his fucking coach. “you’re pissed,” toji continues, cutting through before he can react, “and I’m not blaming you. but you’re acting like you can fix this overnight.”
“i can fix it,” sukuna snaps.
“no,” toji fires back just as fast, “you can’t.” his words hit, it’s how sure he sounds. sukuna’s eyes darken, something sharp flashing behind them. “you don’t have enough yet,” toji goes on, voice steady, and grounded making sukuna seethe. “and you forcing it isn’t gonna make it show up faster.”
“so i just sit around for another fucking month?” sukuna bites out. “wait for her to walk in and fuck everything up again!?”
“you think hovering over choso every second is gonna stop that?” toji counters. “you’re burning yourself out for nothing.”
sukuna scoffs, stepping forward this time, closing the already small space between them, eyes deadly to anyone other than the very man he’s targeting. “you don’t get to tell me how to handle my family.”
toji’s jaw tightens. “i’m not. i’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna fuck up your future if you keep this up.”
there’s that word again. future. sukuna’s expression twists instantly.
“don’t start,” he warns, low.
“you think this offer’s just gonna sit there and wait for you?” toji presses anyway. “you’ve been busting your ass for this since you screwed up and got—“
“i said don’t—”
“and by some fucking miracle you managed to get an offer again,” toji cuts him off, sharper now, voice much louder, “and you’re ready to throw it because of her!?”
that’s it. sukuna shoves him. it’s full force. enough to break the line they’ve been holding. toji stumbles back, just to block a swing from sukuna. his arm hooks with the kid, locking him up as sukuna grunts, not fighting back with the amount of strength he started with.
“don’t,” sukuna says, voice rougher now, chest heaving again in the hold. “don’t fuckin’ act like you’re responsible for me.”
toji grits, muscles flexing. “I’m not tryna act like your guardian angel,” he starts, his words coming out careful…almost hesitant thinking about the right words to describe his bond with the itadori family. “but I know what it looks like when you let your past decide everything for you.” his grip tightens around sukuna’s arm, almost hugging him, except for the way sukuna’s arm is forcefully trapped between their bodies, and the other is locked against his back. “i screwed up, not you.”
sukuna’s jaw tightens again, but this time there’s something else under it. something sharper, old wounds stinging.
“i said i’ll deal with it,” toji adds. sukuna struggles momentarily, before toji lets go, letting sukuna fall back on the grass, sun beating harshly above them. sweat slides down sukuna’s chest, fists gripping the dirt.
sukuna doesn’t answer. his gaze fixes on the ground between his legs. white lines worn into the grass. the ocean beyond it, endless and loud. this is what he’s been working for. he knows that. but….his jaw clenches again.
“you can’t be in two places at once,” toji says, standing above him. “so decide where you want to be.”
another long silence stretches between them. wind picks up slightly off the water, cooling the sweat on sukuna’s skin, but it does nothing for the heat sitting under it. finally, he scoffs under his breath and looks away. his hand comes up, running through his damp hair again.
“i’m not done with this,” he mutters, more to himself than toji.
toji shakes his head.
sukuna doesn’t look back at him. doesn’t give him anything else. but the way his shoulders sit, the way his jaw won’t unclench, it’s clear he’s not letting it go. he just doesn’t know which fire to put out first.
the silence breaks with a loud cheer in the distance. it cuts clean through the tension and heat.
“SUMMMMMERRRRRR BREAAAKKKKK!!!!!”
the voice is unmistakable. sukuna exhales through his nose, head tipping slightly to the side as his arm drops just enough for him to see across the field.
yuuji.
already halfway across, sprinting like his life depends on it. megumi’s right behind him, trying his best to keep up, eyes set in on yuuji’s back in determination. somewhere between the halfway line and the benches, both their backpacks go flying off, hitting the grass with dull thuds. yuuji doesn’t even look back, and just runs faster.
sukuna’s head drops back again, eyes closing briefly, jaw tightening as he lets the noise wash over him, and pull him out of his own head for a second. and he knows what’s coming. he doesn’t move, but braces.
“RYOOO—!”
yuuji slams into him full force, arms hooking around his shoulders as he crashes down, laughing loud and bright. sukuna grunts, body shifting slightly from the hit, but his hand comes up automatically, gripping the back of yuuji’s shirt to keep him from face-planting into his chest.
“fuck you’re heavier—” sukuna mutters, voice rough, but there’s no bite to it.
yuuji laughs, already climbing onto him, half dangling off his shoulders as sukuna finally pushes himself up to stand. “we’re free! FINALLY!!”
megumi finally reaches them, bent slightly at the waist, breathing heavier than he’d like, shooting yuuji an annoyed look. “you cheated.”
“i didn’t!” yuuji fires back immediately, still clinging to sukuna like he’s part of him now
“you started early,” megumi argues.
“did not!”
sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his shoulders once as he stands fully, yuuji still hanging off him like dead weight. “both of you are fucking annoying.”
toji snorts quietly from the side, reaching out to ruffle megumi’s hair. the kid lets him, even if he rolls his eyes a second later, already distracted again by yuuji’s loud arguing.
“you’re just mad you lost again,” yuuji adds, grinning. “you can never beat me in a race.”
“i didn’t lose.”
“you did—!”
“i said i didn’t—”
“yo yo yo!” the voice cuts in before it can escalate, loud and familiar as two more figures cross the field. gojo strolls up like he owns the place, blue shorts hanging low on his hips, white tee clinging just enough from the heat. beside him, geto moves slower, black tee, baseball cap low over his eyes, hands shoved casually into his short pockets. gojo’s grin widens the second he gets a good look at sukuna.
“damn,” he lets out, dragging the word. “you look like shit.”
geto huffs a quiet laugh, eyes flicking over sukuna’s drenched frame. “you’ve been out here all day?”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. he just grabs the hem of his shorts, tugging them slightly where they cling, sweat still dripping down his torso, catching along the lines of muscle, the ink on his skin darker from it, a tan already forming.
“what gave it away?” he mutters dryly.
yuuji is still draped over him, completely unbothered, arms locked around his shoulders like he’s not planning on letting go of his older brother anytime soon. “he’s been training like crazy,” he chimes in proudly, like it’s his accomplishment.
gojo leans in slightly, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. “yeah, no shit. he looks like he just crawled out of a fight.”
“lost, probably,” geto adds under his breath, glancing at toji who’s uncharacteristically lost in thought behind megumi.
sukuna scoffs, finally shifting his shoulder just enough to jostle yuuji. yuuji only laughs, tightening his grip like a damn leech. “can we play a game with you guys?” he asks, already bouncing with energy.
sukuna drags a hand through his damp hair, strands sticking to his forehead and temples, sweat still tracking down the sharp lines of his throat. his chest rises slow, controlled, muscles still tight from drills, veins faintly visible along his forearms, and v-line. “get off my back,” he mutters, voice rough.
yuuji drops immediately.
“I call being on ryo’s team!!” yuuji cheers, sliding in at sukuna’s side. for a second, it cuts through everything, the tension, the heat, the lingering frustration.
sukuna huffs, faint smile ghosting his lips. he ruffles the kid’s hair, rough but familiar. “yeah, yeah.”
gojo claps his hands together, already grinning like an idiot. “well, me and meg—”
“I’m with suguru,” megumi cuts flatly, already stepping toward geto without even looking at gojo.
there’s a beat. then sukuna snorts. geto does too, low and amused, adjusting his cap as his eyes flick between them.
gojo’s face twists in pure betrayal. “what the hell?!”
the ocean breeze rolls through the field, tugging at their loose shirts and damp hair, carrying the sound of distant waves, and the very obvious attention of people lingering along the edges. a few girls pause mid-walk, eyes dragging over the group, not subtle.
sukuna stands there shirtless, skin tan and sun-warmed, slick with sweat. his tattoos stretch across his chest and wrapping down his arms, and around his thick thighs. every movement pulls something sharp and defined beneath his skin. beside him, geto’s build is just as unfair, broad shoulders, dark shirt clinging slightly before he peels it off, exposing toned muscle and smooth skin. his silver chain catches the light, muscles flexing as he reties his long hair. and then there’s gojo, tall, bright, obnoxiously pretty, who yanks his shirt off with zero shame, tossing it aside like he knows exactly how many eyes just followed the motion, and his muscles were no joke.
“i’m not sitting out,” gojo declares, already walking backward onto the field. “we’re doing three on three. coach, you’re in.”
toji just exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he expected this the second they showed up.
“be on our team!” yuuji immediately points at gojo, beaming.
gojo lights up like he just got chosen for something life-changing. “finally—someone that finally sees my value.”
that lasts about two seconds
“you’re goalie,” yuuji adds brightly. sukuna lets out a sharp laugh, head tipping back for a second. geto laughing louder across from them.
gojo freezes. “what the hell?!”
“well i’m playing,” yuuji says, like it’s obvious, gesturing between himself and sukuna. “and me and ryo are a team—”
“i play with him all the time!” gojo cuts in, scandalized.
yuuji scrunches his face, brutally honest. “yeah but…you guys hate each other.”
there’s a pause.
“…that’s not—” gojo starts, then stops, jaw ticking, and veins straining. he groans anyway, dragging himself toward the goal with exaggerated misery, muttering under his breath the whole time. sukuna and geto watch him go, lips twitching.
on the other side, toji doesn’t argue when he gets shoved into the same position for megumi and geto’s team. he just cracks his neck once, slow, eyes already tracking the field, mind anywhere but the game.
as the teams settle and the heat clings to their skin, the game starts off light. it’s almost easy. the ball moves quick between them, laughter cutting through the salt-heavy air as yuuji and megumi try to outdo each other, their smaller frames darting across the field with reckless energy. geto plays loose, smooth with it, backing megumi with an ease that makes it look effortless, while sukuna shadows yuuji, letting the kid take the lead, stepping in only when needed. for a moment, it feels normal. just a summer game.
gojo, unfortunately, blocks almost everything. he stretches out in the goal, long muscular limbs moving with lazy precision, talking shit the entire time. “stupid fucking game.”
and every now and then he lets one slip—on purpose—just enough for megumi to make a few shots, to keep him from scowling too hard. but toji doesn’t do the same. every shot yuuji takes, every burst of effort, gets shut down hard. clean catches. sharp deflections. not even a hint of mercy. and slowly, that grin on yuuji’s face starts to strain.
and that’s when sukuna shifts, a scowl pulls at his mouth. it’s subtle at first. he puts a little more force behind his kicks, losing patience. and then it builds faster, he feels something heavier sitting under his skin. and his focus drifts, between yuuji, the goalpost and everything else. the offer.
fuck!
the weight of this shit summer presses behind his eyes. and toji is just standing there, catching everything like it’s nothing. like sukuna isn’t trying hard enough. his jaw tightens as he drives the ball again, and again. harder each time, forcing plays, and, pushing past those friendly match into something rougher, more aggressive. geto notices. gojo definitely notices.
but sukuna doesn’t stop until the game ends just as messy and close and yuuji’s team barely scraping the win
the field immediately breaks into noise with yuuji and megumi arguing over fouls, both talking over each other with flushed faces and wild gestures.
“we already called that as offside,” yuuji shouts, shaking his head.
megumi scoffs, pointing, “you couldn’t even explain the offside rule to me a month ago!”
“doesn’t matter!”
sukuna’s barely listening as he grabs a towel and drags it over his face, and chest. sweat drips down his jaw, his torso and back gleaming under the sun. his free hand shoves a bottle into yuuji’s chest.
“drink,” he mutters. yuuji obeys without question, still mid-argument as he chugs.
gojo strolls over, dramatic as ever, wiping at his neck with a grimace. “this sweat is from the sun, not from a workout,” he complains, like he wasn’t just throwing himself around ten seconds ago. “fucking waste of an hour,” he adds, slapping his sunglasses on and stretching his arms behind his head.
the frat president is completely oblivious to the mini crowd off the field, until he turns his head to feel a gust from the ocean. that’s when he catches a couple girls nearby staring. his lip curls on instinct and easily flashes them a grin, and a lazy wave.
geto snorts under his breath beside him, adjusting his cap, equally as drenched. sukuna doesn’t care. his eyes are already elsewhere. specifically on the man he was arguing you with earlier.
toji stands near the benches, turned slightly away, phone pressed to his ear. his posture different. sukuna bites down on his jaw, something tightens in his chest. ‘I’ll handle it’ my ass.
his gaze flicks back to yuuji, still arguing, “why isn’t choso with you?”
yuuji doesn’t glance away from megumi, “i dunno, i walked here from school.”
“i told choso to bring ya over, gramps wanted a quiet friday,” sukuna frowns.
“he’s probably practicing. the competition is tomorrow,” yuuji thinks.
that rips gojo’s attention away from the girls, “ohh damn! that’s the battle of the bands thing right?”
yuuji nods, beaming as he recalls how much choso has been talking about it, “cho showed me a couple videos from the other bands that signed up, and they’re sooooo lame compared to him!”
sukuna listens. choso’s been practicing almost every night, usually at ino’s place since gramps would get cranky. but before kaori rose from dead over three months ago, choso was updating sukuna around the clock, including—
“i guess he found a way to pay the submission fee,” gojo tosses so casually it almost passes,.
sukuna’s brows pinch, head turning slightly. “how d’ya know about the submission fee?”
gojo blinks, like it’s obvious. “choso told me,” he shrugs, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “back in april. remember when he ditched school and came to the house? kid was stressin’ about it.”
sukuna stills, “…he told you that?”
“yeah,” gojo hums, a little smug now. “said he was tryna handle it himself. didn’t wanna ask you ‘cause you’ve got,” he gestures vaguely, “your whole thing going on. y’know. life crisis, anger issues, whatever.”
geto snorts under his breath. yuuji is still arguing with megumi, completely oblivious. but sukuna doesn’t hear any of it. his jaw tightens, something cold slipping down his spine, because choso never said a word to him. not once. not about money. not about struggling, not about needing help.
and then it clicks.
a month ago the house had been quieter than usual. it was when sukuna stopped by on the weekend before the last week of classes and finals. gramps was out, yuuji was inside with megumi and nobara. sukuna had just come back from talking with toji, when he heard it, music bleeding out from the garage.
he hadn’t meant to stop, but he did. he leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, he watched through the cracked door. choso stood in the middle of the cluttered space, guitar slung low, hair tied back messily. ino was adjusting something on an amp while the others tuned, voices overlapping in the garage.
“we still need the fee by next week,” ino mentions.
“i know,” choso muttered, fingers dragging through his hair. “i’m working on it.”
“you gonna ask your brother?”
choso’s head snapped up immediately. “no.”
too fast. too sharp.
“why not? he could literally—”
“i said no.” choso’s voice cut through the garage, firm, and defensive. “i’ll figure it out.”
there’d been a pause. awkward tension between the boys.
“…you sure?”
choso exhaled, shoulders dropping just a little, but he didn’t look back at them. just adjusted his grip on the guitar. “he’s got enough shit going on,” he said, quieter now. “i don’t need to add to it…I’ll have my half by June.”
and that was it. they moved on and started playing again. and sukuna left before they finished the song. competition’s usually cost around three hundred dollars. if he can’t figure it out himself, he’ll eventually ask his older brother for help. he always does…
but now, back on the field, the ocean air feels heavier. his tongue presses hard against the inside of his cheek.
“he didn’t say anything to me,” sukuna mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
gojo tilts his head. “yeah…i figured.”
and that makes something in sukuna’s chest twist, sharp and ugly. because now the timeline lines up too cleanly. kaori showing up. choso being curious about her. the fee. choso needing money. choso asking him to talk to her. and then— that bank transfer.
his gaze drops, jaw locking as the pieces start to settle into place in a way he really, really doesn’t like.
did he meet with kaori?
———
the house is quiet when sukuna gets back. it’s late—past midnight—and the only light on is the dull flicker from the tv in the living room. the front door clicks shut behind him, the smell of alcohol and citrus still clinging faintly to his clothes from his summer job at the bar. his shoulders ache, muscles heavy from the day, but his mind is louder than anything else.
the news drones on. wasuke sits in his usual spot, hunched slightly forward, a blanket thrown over his legs despite the summer heat. he doesn’t look over when sukuna walks in. he pauses for a second, then drops onto the couch beside his gramps with a low exhale, elbows resting on his knees, mind anything but calm. the only thing he could think about during his late shift was choso asking kaori for money.
“…how do you think choso’s doing?” his deep voice breaks the silence.
wasuke grunts, unimpressed. “you’re the one hovering over him like a leech.”
“you are,” wasuke cuts him off, finally glancing at him. his eyes are sharp, even through the fatigue. “kid can’t breathe without you watching him while he shits.”
sukuna scoffs quietly, looking away. his jaw tightens, tongue pressing against his cheek. “he’s ignoring me still.”
“so let him.” the response is immediate, and it makes something in sukuna’s chest twist. he leans back into the couch, arms crossing loosely, gaze drifting to the tv but not really seeing it. the silence stretches for a beat, filled only by the low murmur of the broadcast.
“…he didn’t tell me about the money,” sukuna says finally, voice low and rougher now. “for the competition tomorrow.” wasuke doesn’t react right away. just shifts slightly in his seat. “he found a way to get it,” sukuna adds, eyes narrowing faintly. “on his own.”
another beat.
“…and you’re mad about that.”
sukuna exhales sharply through his nose. “i don’t like not knowing where the fuck it came from.”
wasuke hums. “so ask him.”
“he’ll lie, he already lied.”
“then that’s his problem.”
sukuna’s head snaps slightly, irritation spiking. “it becomes my problem if he’s getting mixed up with—” he cuts himself off. jaw tensing.
“…with her?” his gramps asks, voice colder.
the word hangs there without being said. kaori. sukuna doesn’t answer. but he doesn’t need to, his silence does it for him.
wasuke exhales slowly, leaning back into the couch, eyes drifting back to the tv. “i told you i want nothing to do with that woman,” he mutters.
“i know.”
“then stop bringing her into this house without her even bein’ here.”
sukuna’s jaw clenches, fingers tapping once against his arm before going still. “i’m not bringing her anywhere. she’s the one tryna get to choso and yuu.”
“and you’re letting her.”
sukuna blood spikes, “what?! how am I letting her! you want me to pull the same shit you did for me and do nothing?!”
wasuke’s expression hardens…
kaori’s voice could slice through walls, through skin. and his father would just stand there…patient…useless. and she tore into everything. that house was a fucking hellhole.
but wasuke didn’t ask questions, or comment. he didn’t bat an eye when sukuna stayed the extra night when visiting, or when he eventually brought more bags and stayed permanently.
“…if it’s still unclear to you, I don’t want her fucking everything up again,” sukuna mutters, quieter now. the tv flickers. some anchor talking about something sukuna could care less about.
“you left when you were around his age,” wasuke continues, voice gruffer now, but steadier. “you made your choice. it was a good one.” a pause. “but those boys didn’t.”
sukuna’s eyes lower.
“you kept choso over longer when they’d visit on the weekends,” wasuke says. “yuuji doesn’t even remember half of it.” he shifts, blanket rustling. “you don’t get to make their choices for them now just because you think you know better.”
sukuna’s chest tightens, “i’m not—”
“you are,” wasuke interrupts again, harsher this time. “you’re scared—“
that makes sukuna’s head snap up. his eyes flash, in defensive, anger raging. “i’m not scared of her-“
“not of her,” wasuke says simply. “of what happens if you’re wrong.”
the room goes still. completely still….
what if choso did go to her? what if he wanted to? what if he likes her? sukuna’s jaw locks, a cold anger bubbling up inside, old wounds opening as he recalls how—
“…she’s not good for them,” sukuna says, voice low and certain.
wasuke doesn’t argue that, he just sighs, long and tired, rubbing a hand over his aged face. “yeah,” he says. “but locking ‘em up isn’t gonna make it go away either.” sukuna looks away again, jaw tight. “couldn’t teach you shit because whenever I’d tell ya to do something, you’d do the opposite.”
he doesn’t respond…why are teenagers so difficult?
“and let me know if you’re gonna go to that training thing overseas.”
sukuna’s head snaps. “how do ya know about that?”
wasuke doesn’t bat an eye. “choso saw it in yuuji’s room and asked me about it.”
sukuna’s jaw tenses, sinking further into the couch, muscles tightening and mind pounding. his gramps continues watching, eyes ahead as his short tempered grandson quietly sits beside him.
sukuna’s room is dark when he finally pushes the door open. empty and quiet since yuuji’s at megumi’s. sukuna drags a hand down his face, kicking the door shut behind him before peeling off his shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor. his jeans follow, shoved down and discarded without care until he’s left in just his boxers. the fan hums lazily in the corner, warm summer air clinging to his skin, still faintly sticky from his shift.
he drops onto his bed with a low exhale, one arm thrown over his eyes for a second, then his phone’s in his hand. mindless, numb doom scrolling. his thumb flicks up, up, up tapping on the string of insta stories.
gojo with multiple stories from today. yuuji mid-sprint across the field, megumi scowling in the background, another of gojo grinning like an idiot with geto, toji somewhere behind them looking half-interested at best. there’s one of sukuna too—shirtless, sweaty, mid-play—clearly taken without him noticing.
he clicks his tongue.
next. geto reposted the same ones gojo had tagged him in. a few others of the soccer ball, and one of sukuna yelling and pointing at gojo.
he scowls. next— his thumb pauses mid-scroll. he taps before he can think about it. it’s a repost from shoko’s story. you’re sprawled out on a gurney, knocked out cold in your scrubs, one arm hanging off the side like you just gave up mid-shift.
his lip quirks faintly. then another photo, you and shoko again, except now you’re slumped over the counter in a bar, still dressed in scrubs, cheek pressed to your arm resting on the surface, and completely knocked out again.
“the fuck…” sukuna huffs under his breath. his thumb lingers on the photo, then he taps your profile. his eyes flick over your dashboard, clicking the most recent photo. he’d already seen it, you haven’t posted since winter break, but his eyes still linger on the photo. on your face. your lips. he scrolls through your dash again, tapping on your highlights in hopes of finding a photo that’ll get him going…
his room is quiet, no one present to see how he quietly stalks your page, hand resting just above his—
BUZZ
his phone slips—smacking him straight in the face.
“fuck—!” he groans, hand flying up to his face as he answers, irritation already bleeding into his tone.
“hello?” your voice comes through, soft, and a little unsure.
“what,” he huffs, rubbing his face.
there’s a shift on your end. fabric, maybe, moving. “are you busy right now?”
“no, it’s fucking one am,” he snaps automatically, voice rough with exhaustion.
“right,” you murmur, a small pause. “sounds like I got you at a wrong time though?”
“you didn’t,” he says, a little quieter.
your lips purse…then, “how’s your summer?”
sukuna’s brow quirks, shifting on his bed, one arm tucking behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. “you called to ask how I am?”
“well we haven’t talked in almost a month-ish,” you say, casual, because it is, neither of you batting an eye about it. but he can picture that little shrug you do. “so like…yeah. how are you?”
something in his chest shifts as he exhales through his nose, giving in anyway. “fine.”
“yeah?” there’s a small smile in your voice now. he hums. “I saw satoru’s story. you guys looked like you were having fun.”
“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “my brother’s are off for break now.”
“ooo, fun,” you say softly, the word stretching a little.
the conversation flows casually, too comfortable for either of you to notice. “you back home doing the hospital thing then.”
you hum, then with a slight pause, “yeah.”
he shifts again, phone pressed closer to his ear without realizing. “looks like you’re sleeping the whole time,” he teases lightly, voice low.
there’s a small scoff on your end, breathy. “shut up. those were like—very strategic naps.”
“on a fucking gurney?” he snorts.
“listen,” you start, a little defensive now, a little more awake. “those shifts suck, and if i don’t sleep when i can, i’ll actually kill myself.”
“dramatic.”
“I’m never dramatic,” you shoot back, then quieter, “I’m literally exhausted all the time.”
there’s a beat. sukuna’s gaze drifts to the ceiling again, something softer settling in his chest without permission. “…sounds like it,” he mutters.
there’s another pause, and it doesn’t feel awkward, it’s familiar, like no time has passed at all and yet it has. his fingers tap idly against his stomach, mind quieter than it’s been all night.
“…you hate it there?” he asks after a second, tone more neutral now, less bite.
your exhale comes slower this time, heavier. “yeah,” you mutter honestly, unaware of the way sukuna’s jaw shifts slightly. then there’s a slight shifting on your end again. “four more weeks of this,” you add.
sukuna doesn’t realize how much he actually wants to hear your talk, hear your voice, something calm settling in his chest as he hums, hoping you’ll continue talking, and luckily you do.
“the best part is shoko being here,” you talk mindlessly, voice soft, clear that you’re trying not to make a lot of noise.
“and the worst part?” sukuna pokes, earning a light snort from you.
“my dad hovering over my shoulder and interrogating me,” you sigh, “can you talk to me?”
his brow quirks, “we are talking, you called me.”
you frown, rolling your eyes, “yeah to have like a conversation about something that’s not this dumb program.”
“and I’m a great conversationalist,” sukuna’s tone is laced with sarcasm.
“the best,” you add on, smile lifting your lips when you hear him snort. he exhales, his breath moving through the speaker and right into your ear, reminding you when it was really pressed close to you, warm and gentle.
“i’ve been working at a bar,” sukuna starts, mind slowly piecing together what he should talk about.
“for real?”
“yeah, is that shocking,” he throws, voice steady, barely reacting.
“no, i can picture it,” you coolly reply.
“smartass.” sukuna exhales, then continues. “since we’re getting deeper into summer people are moving into their beach houses.”
“Oo fancy.”
and maybe it was the slight comments that allowed sukuna to continue rambling about some annoying customers, or it could be your little questions that eased the knots in his chest. but sukuna felt natural speaking, telling you about moments in the last three weeks. and even touching on a subject very sore to him…
“oh wow that’s great. I’ve haven’t gone to a battle of the bands competition since I was high school,” you say, peaking sukuna’s interest in seconds.
“you were part of a band?”
you shake your head, “no lol,” you laugh, “my boyfriend was.”
sukuna goes quiet for half a second? not long enough for you to clock it, but long enough for something sharp to flicker under his skin.
“boyfriend,” he repeats, tone flat, he doesn’t notice.
you hum lightly, shifting on your bed. “yeah, from high school.”
“hm.” there’s a pause again. not awkward, just…thicker now. he doesn’t ask why you broke up. doesn’t ask anything that obvious. he doesn’t care, but still… “you lose your virginity to him?” he asks, casual.
you blink at your ceiling, lips pressing together. “as if,” you pause, “i don’t think i actually liked him like that to let him go all the way.”
sukuna’s brow twitches faintly, “what, so he was just there?” he scoffs.
you let out a small laugh. “kinda. he was cool when he was part of the band, but i think he liked me more than i liked him…which made me feel kinda bad.”
“figures.”
you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. “whatever.” but you’re smiling.
there’s another pause, shorter this time, then he tilts his head slightly against his pillow, voice dipping just a bit. “so what’d you let him do?”
“kissing, a little touching over the clothes…i dunno,” you slowly begin to recall the memories from high school. “he was…cringey.” you hesitate, then add, “he was always talking, but didn’t do much of anything else.”
a quiet huff of amusement leaves him, his lips twitch up. “talking,” he echoes.
“yeah,” you sigh. “like—texting. sexting. all that.”
“and you didn’t like it?”
you shake your head instinctively, “it was so…” you cringe just thinking back about it. “cringey and boring.”
there’s a small shift on his end, sheets rustling as he sits up a little more against his headboard, phone tucked closer to his ear. “boring?” he repeats, slower now, voice dropping.
“yeah,” you mumble. “it just felt…fake. like i was supposed to say certain things, or react a certain way because he was getting off…just gave me the biggest ick.” you pause, then add quieter, “and it never did anything for me.”
there’s a slight pause as sukuna goes quiet again, then—
“…so what does?” his voice is rougher now, deeper, slipping into something more familiar.
you blink, heat creeping up your neck at the shift in tone. “…what?”
“you said it’s boring,” he continues, slow and deliberate. “so what isn’t?”
your breath hitches, just a little, and he hears it. of course he does. it’s the one thing he knows about you. you wet your lips, suddenly very aware of how you’re laying, how your voice sounds, how he sounds.
“…i don’t know,” you deflect weakly.
“that’s not an answer.”
“it is when i’m half asleep,” you mumble, heat settling in your stomach. the house is quiet. your room even more.
he huffs quietly, a faint edge of a smirk, “…so if i started talking,” he says, almost offhand, like it’s nothing, “you’d just get bored and hang up?”
your stomach flips, because you know what he’s doing, and he knows you know.
“…no,” you say, softer now. you hesitate then, quieter, honest without meaning to be, because why else did you call him…your mind had drifted to him, and you clicked his number without thinking twice… “keep talking to me.”
that’s all it takes. there’s a shift on his end, barely audible, but it feels like the air tightens between you through the phone. sukuna exhales slowly through his nose, heat crawling up his neck.
“yeah?” he murmurs. you hum, softly. he didn’t realize how much he enjoyed your voice, so he continues talking, voice deeper, the way he speaks when it’s just the two of you, and when you’re underneath him… “you don’t post a lot.”
your brow quirks, “like on instagram?” he hums. “were you stalking me?”
“was just on your profile after i saw your story, then your idiot self calls me,” he huffs remembering the way his phone smacked him in the face. he ignores the way he didn’t feel embarrassed telling you though.
you laugh, “i probably sensed it,” you tease. heat blooming across your cheeks. “you want me posting more?”
his breath hitches.
“I can post if you ask me nicely,” you coo through the speaker, voice warm and light. “what d’ya want to see, ryo?”
the man snorts, biting his lip at the tone in your voice. you’re not making it subtle at all that you want a little bickering this late at night.
“you’d post if i told you too,” he murmurs, slower. “since when do you listen to me.”
you smile into your pillow, cheek warm, fingers idly tracing the fabric of your sheets. “depends how you ask.”
something settles deeper in his chest. “…what’re you doing right now?” sukuna asks, voice lower, steadier, not rushed.
you swallow lightly. “…in bed.”
“yeah?” he hums, hand ghosting over his the subtle bulge in his boxers. “what’re you wearing.”
your lips part, wetting your bottom lip as you exhale, “not much,” you admit, softer now. “shorts.”
“panties?” he asks, and you shake your head making a little noise. “is that the real reason ya called?”
“no,” you mutter, not knowing whether that’s a lie or the truth. of course, the possibility lingered in your mind when you thought of him…then when you clicked his contact…especially after, “i had a long day…and some guy asked for my number.”
sukuna’s hand stills, body going rigid.
“and for some reason…it just made me think of you,” the confession filled the quiet space of your rooms. “but then…i wanted to know, if we still had an agreement together..?”
the question hangs in the air for a moment.
then sukuna shifts, biting back a smirk, “you can let other guys fuck you if you’re so horny.” you frown, chest tightening— “but i can tell you’re afraid they might get scared of ya.”
your lips part, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond.
“you’ll tell em to go faster and they’ll try, then you’ll tell them to go harder and they’ll give ya a look, and then you’ll shake that pretty ass waiting for them to spank it, because you’ll never say how much ya like it out loud,” sukuna’s words flow easily, turning your stomach into knots, thighs pressing together. “isn’t that why you thought of me? i know how wet you’re getting just from my voice.”
your lips part in quiet shock, face burning.
“tell me how drenched your pretty little pussy is,” his voice scratches an itch deep in your core, a small whimper leaving your lips. your hand crawls into your shorts, biting your lip as your slick immediately coats your digits.
“you touching’ yourself?”
“Mhm,” your cute voice flows straight to his cock, his hand moves over his bulge again. “I’m wet, ryo.”
he bites back a groan, “you miss havin my voice pressed against your ear, tellin ya what to do?”
you can’t hold back the whine that barely escapes your throat, sending a wave of heat rushing down to his cock.
“take the shorts off, princess.” sukuna immediately hears the rustling of bedsheets from your end. his hand continues to stroke himself over his boxers. you settle back near the phone with a light exhale. “ya took em off?”
“yes,” you breathe, lips glossy.
“you miss havin’ me there with you?” he listens carefully as you whine softly into the phone. “answer me.”
“yes, i miss you,” you sigh, ghosting a finger over your folds. the light breeze of your bedroom sending a pool of heat between your legs.
“what d’you miss?”
you wet your lips, dipping a finger into your folds. “miss your hands touching me,” your voice softens, juices collecting on your finger, as you slowly drag it up to your clit. “miss when you’d stretch me out.”
sukuna’s jaw clenches, palm pressing against his fully erect cock. “can’t stretch y’rself?”
you make a noise that sends sukuna into orbit. “my fingers are too small.” you wet your lips as you continue playing with your clit, your breath growing heavy. “i hate touching myself.”
“hate’s a strong word,” he snorts, shoving his boxers down, unbothered by the how hard he is. he reaches over for the nightstand before pausing. “fuck.”
“what?” you fingers pause their movement,
sukuna sits back, cock twitching, “forgot I’m not in my room.”
your brow quirks, heart stopping, “where are you then?”
“I mean at the frat. my little brother took over my room here when I moved out,” he explains, biting his lip as he looks down at his cock. “so no lube.”
oh.
heat spreads across your face.
“wish i had your sweet pussy here to get me nice n wet,” sukuna bites. saliva collects in his mouth as he leans forward, and then he spits a fat glob, watching it land right on his engorged tip. “you’re all drenched now, aren’t you?”
your face stings. of course he knows how drenched you are.
“you like playing with your pussy?”
your lips part, finger rubbing tight circles on your clit as sukuna lets out a low grunt. you can hear the distant squelch of his hand moving up and down his cock.
“n-no,” you exhale, cheeks hot.
“no?”
“it’s boring haah,” you confess, but your actions are saying the opposite, especially with the added whine in the end.
sukuna squeezes his base, “it’s boring to touch y’rself talkin’ to me?”
you hum quietly, lips parting, breathless, and uncharacteristically shy. it was the fact that you’re only hearing his voice, when you’re used to seeing him, touching him, the bickering was mutual even if he’d have your ass bruised everytime you quip back…but this time…you’re unbelievably aware of the fact that you’re alone. and maybe that’s why his confidence was overheating your brain in a way that had you touching your poor clit a little quicker.
“even if I tell you how hard my cock is jus’ talking to you. that doesn’t do anything?”
your brain goes dizzy just thinking about sukuna’s thick chubby cock — you don’t even realize the pathetic whine that comes out of you.
“doesn’t make your cunt tighten around those fingers?”
your chest heats up, sweat building across your forehead. “I’m not using my fingers…”
sukuna pauses his strokes, thumb nail digging into his slit, turning his cock a darker shade. “you’re just rubbing that poor nub then?”
a mix of a hum and whine comes out. your fingers slow, mimicking the way sukuna would’ve been touching you, but…it’s not that same, not even close.
“push in a finger.”
your chest rises, legs parting. “mm’kay…” you leave your clit, fingers covered in your honey as you drag them lower, teasing your puckering hole. “it never feels good when I do it myself though,” you mutter.
sukuna twist his wrist up and down his cock. pre oozes down the veins and ridges, unbothered by the fact that it’s been a minute since he’s jerked off himself. the last time was when he was in your room—
he ignores you. “push a finger in, and keep rubbing your clit f’r me.”
you listen, gently pushing a finger in. the satisfying sensation of fullness doesn’t take you over, instead you’re whining softly, breathless as you rub your clit. “it doesn’t feel good ryo.”
“push your fingers deeper, and then ya gotta curl them until you feel that gummy part—“
“it all feels gummy,” you exhale, working your clit faster, not fully realizing your other hand is mimicking the way your fuck buddy fingers you. “haah I’m jus’—“ you suppress your moans, the speaker picking up every hitch in your throat, and quiet whine.
“you fingering yourself, baby?”
your lips part, working yourself more. “y-yea-haah..”
sukuna’s voice drops an octave, hand coming down to cup his heavy balls, working his cock faster. “atta girl.”
heat breaks out.
your glossy lips part, choked moans filling sukuna’s ear.
“keep going—ngh, y’er getting my cock so fucking hard,” he grunts, his biceps bulge, veins on his forearms flexing dangerously as he strokes himself aggressively. you whine a little more, his words making you clamp around your pathetic finger, your clit throbs as you rub tighter circles.
“y-you like my voice?” you don’t mean to make your voice that breathless, but it comes out either way. what you don’t expect is the choked groan that comes from the phone.
“fhuck,” one leg bends up, before butterflying out, fuck he misses your teasing. “you wanna get spanked for that?”
his lip quirks the moment you whine on instinct.
“knew you were a dirty fucking slut,” he grunts strokes picking up. images of your gorgeous face getting all flustered at his words appears in his mind. “ya like gettin’ punished.”
it wasn’t a question, but you still deny it with a cute huff from your end. “I don’t.”
“you do,” he states, tongue dragging across his lip, “you wish I had ya bent over my lap, spanking that pretty ass until ya start crying.”
you hate the way your skin burns, and his name falls from your lips. “I’ve never cried.” his loud, deep, laugh rattles through your speaker, sending a wave of heat to your face. your lips purse, finger curling inside you, but coming out just to rub your puffy clit quicker. “don’ ah laugh at me.”
“you’re a liar,” he snorts between laughs. his cock is throbbing, bulbous tip a dark shade of red as clear pre dribbles at the slit, sliding down the protruding veins and ridges. it was a filthy pathetic mess how hard he is. “fucking asking for a spanking now.”
“mmm not,” you pant, lips parting as you get closer, his voice the only thing your fixating on. “I’m not haah.”
“you’d still bend over if i asked,” he smirks at the soft whine that leaves your lips. “you’d also pull down your pants just to show me how wet your panties are.” your hand sneaks into your shirt, fingers twisting your nipple. “then you’d get embarrassed when I pinch your little clit through them, scolding you for getting all drenched when this should be a punishment.”
“fuuh…” you choke.
you’re so precious.
his grip tightens on his cock, jerking it harder, abs clenching at the knot coiling inside. “then you’d start crying when I start making ya count each spank.”
“I wouldn’t,” your lips are so wet, sukuna can practically hear how glossy they are.
“you’re so dumb when you get wet and needy, you don’t even realize you’re crying,” he coos, “I think ya do it on purpose.”
“I don’t.”
“you do,” sukuna’s grunt hits your ear. his hand is jerking his painful cock the squelching is so loud you can hear it. “you know how fucking hard it makes me.”
you whine at the admission, squirming as you draw closer to your relief. tongue poking out, panting into the mic. sukuna groans in response, his throat bops.
“seein’ you look at me, and I know there’s nothin else you’re thinking about except my cock,” he bites his lip at the image he’s conjuring up, just as you call his name, light and sweet. “fuck y’er close?”
“Mhm,” a breathless moan escapes. “gunna cum.”
“haah fuck same,” he keeps going, “fuuck I wanna kiss you so bad.”
you whine, legs trembling as you feel your orgasm start to come.
“miss my dirty girl cumming around my cock ngh,” his grunts aren’t as deep or loud, as they are when he’s fucking you. and that small detail sticks in your mind as you feel the searing white relief wash over you. the warmth floods through your body, slow and heavy, leaving your limbs loose against the sheets.
on the other end, sukuna’s groan comes out heavy and deep, hot ropes shooting onto his abs, hand stroking more cum our as he slowly goes quiet… breathing hard.
after a moment, he shifts, the faint rustle of fabric and movement carrying through the phone, and his head tips back against the pillow, eyes shut. his cock rests on his stomach, white thick cum all over his abs and happy trail. but…
his mind is blank for once. no kaori. no choso. no future clawing at his chest. just you. the sound of you, and it settles something in him in a way he doesn’t question, but just lets it happen, chest rising and falling slower now.
“…you fall asleep?” he mutters after a beat, voice rough, quieter than before.
you shake your head instinctively, even though he can’t see it, lashes fluttering as you stare at nothing. “no…just coming down,” you murmur, voice soft, airy, like you’re barely holding onto it. there’s a pause. then, almost sheepish, “kinda anticlimactic…”
he huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, glancing down briefly at the mess he made himself before dragging his clean hand over his face.
“yeah,” he agrees, voice gravelly, worn out from the day.
you roll onto your side, curling slightly into your pillow, phone pressed closer to your ear. neither of you says anything for a few seconds, just the quiet sound of each other breathing. an unspoken calmness easing you both.
on his end, you hear him shifting again, something soft brushing against fabric, the faint sound of movement as he cleans up without thinking much about it. it’s mundane, grounded, and real. and all you can think about is how different it would feel if he were actually here. how warm he’d be beside you. how easy it would be to just turn your head and press into him instead of speaking into a phone. your fingers curl into your sheets a little tighter at the thought.
“…you’re quiet again,” he murmurs, settling back in his bed, casually lifting his hips and pulling his boxers up.
“just tired,” you whisper back. there’s another pause, as sukuna hears you yawn, his eyes grow heavy. “I’m gonna go to sleep, but,” you yawn again, “send a video of your brother tomorrow.”
sukuna smiles, “gonna think about your ex?”
“as if,” you snort, “i rarely ever think about that guy.”
sukuna’s tucks an arm behind his head, “so you think about him?”
you yawn, rolling onto your stomach, “I’m gonna go to sleep now.”
sukuna doesn’t comment on the not-so-subtle deflection, he just lets the silence sit for a second longer before muttering a low, “g’night.”
you echo it back, softer. neither of you hangs up right away, but eventually the line clicks. and the room is quiet again.
he doesn’t move for a while after. he lays there, staring at the ceiling, phone still loose in his hand. the fan hums overhead, pushing around warm summer air lingering through the cracked window. everything feels…slower, quieter, his skin stinky from his orgasm. his mind isn’t clawing at him like it has been for the past three weeks. it’s dulled, softened at the edges, and annoyingly…it’s because of you.
your voice. the way you call his name. the way you needed him, even from miles away.
sukuna exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before finally tossing his phone onto the mattress beside him. his eyes close not long after, body sinking heavier into the bed. and for once sleep comes easy.
the next morning hits hot. the heat sticks to his skin before the sun’s even fully up, and sukuna’s already running. shirtless, drenched in sweat, muscles pulling and flexing with every stride as he cuts along the stretch near the water. his breathing is steady, controlled, but his mind is anything but…it was yesterday, but he expected some information from toji, or shiu. and his gramps words all coming back to him.
everything loops and overlaps, and it presses in from every angle until his jaw is tightening and his pace picks up just a little more, trying to outrun his fucking head.
his shoulders are rising and falling as he slows, sweat dripping down the sharp lines of his chest, his back, and disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. a few early beachgoers glance his way—lingering longer than necessary—but sukuna barely registers it. his mind is still somewhere else. the day goes by like a clock.
every blink and he’s somehow in a new location.
he ends up, back home in the bathroom. shower running. mirror fogging. and somehow his phone is resting on the counter as he’s hunched over, finger swiping—and your profile pulled up.
he scrolls without thinking. his thumb flicking lazily through pictures, your face, your smile, the ones from your study abroad trip, the old ones from nights out. he even goes through your highlights again…he pauses on one. zooms in slightly. his jaw shifts.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, head tipping back for a second like he’s annoyed at himself more than anything else. this is stupid. and yet, his hand won’t stop jerking his cock.
he needs you here.
his thumb taps your name before he can overthink it. the message bar blinks and he stares at it for a second. then types, quick, blunt, like it’s nothing.
send me a pic.
your lips purse as you glance at your phone. you and shoko, by some miracle have a weekend off, and that’s spent lounging in your basement. well, until you’re shifting your attention from the movie, to your phone screen.
what in the world…your fingers tap…
[1:08PM] crybaby: wdym a pic?
[1:08PM] dumbass: need some help with this
*attached photo*
your eyes bulge out of their eye sockets, phone slamming into your chest, hiding your screen, and head whipping up. shoko cranes her neck, focus on the movie still, but giving you a glance, “there wasn’t even a jumpscare.”
your eyes snap to her, “no, I just remembered i had to send my dad this one file…thing… from my—yeah give me one second.” you scramble up to your feet, heading to the stairs.
“you want me to pause—!?” shoko yells after.
within the blink of an eye, you’re back in your room, gawking at the lewd, perverted, uncalled for dick pic you were just sent.
you can recognize sukuna’s chubby engorged cock anywhere. heat crawls up your neck in seconds, the tuft of dark hair at the base and his hand wrapped around the monster, veins protruding and tip flushed red and leaking. your lips purse, controlling the way you feel your pussy clench.
[1:10PM] crybaby: u’re jerking off in the middle of the day?
[1:10PM] dumbass: yea so send a fucking pic so I can get off
[1:10PM] dumbass: ur ig is ass
you tsk, face still warm.
[1:10PM] crybaby: rude
[1:11PM] crybaby: weird asl you’re getting off to my ig anyways
[1:11PM] dumbass: weird asl my dumb ass fuck buddy isn’t fixing my problem
[1:11PM] crybaby: RUDEEEE SO RUDE
sukuna’s head tips forward in irritation. his jaw tightens as he looks down at his painful erection.
[1:12PM] crybaby: srsly tho
[1:12PM] crybaby: you can’t send or show anyone
[1:12PM] dumbass: wtf?? y tf would I do that
[1:13PM] crybaby: it’s almost like you’re in a frat or smt
sukuna tsks.
[1:13PM] dumbass: no one will see the pic
[1:13PM] dumbass: send
[1:12PM] crybaby: say please
his lip twitches….
[1:13PM] dumbass: please
you’re sat on the edge of your bed, dangerous smile plastered on your face.
[1:13PM] crybaby: please what?
he wets his lips, palm squeezing his cock, as starts moving his hand. fuck, you’re such a brat.
[1:14PM] dumbass: please send me pic of you
you’re already taking off your shorts and panties, typing…
[1:15PM] crybaby: I dunno if u sound sincere
sukuna frowns.
[1:15PM] crybaby: send me a voice note
death.
sukuna’s scowl almost cracks the mirror. you’re fucking messing with him, but at this point, he’s in desperate need of release. and unfortunately, he’d rather cum in a second just from looking at a photo of you, than search for a vid on x that’ll get him to cum in hours. so within the next thirty seconds of cursing you out under his breath. the thirty seconds following, was him tapping the audio, and holding his phone close to his lips.
[1:17PM] dumbass: *audio recording*
the first thing you hear is your name, then a distant…grunt…
“can you please,” he practically seethes, voice unbelievably deep… “…send me a goddamn photo. please—ng—“ the audio cuts off his groan.
you’re lips part.
oh. my. god.
your face bursts into flames. you position yourself, kneeling on your bed, phone up, shirt pushed over your breasts. your nipples hard from the cool air. you spread your legs, just wide enough for him to see that you’re completely bare down there. your cheeks sting, eyes darting over the photo, thumb hovering over the send button…
he’s just a fuck buddy….but he’s also a frat guy…you hesitate. your heart beats against your chest, uncharacteristically nervous.
[1:20PM] dumbass: you’re killing me here
fuck, he’s so hot—
[1:20PM] crybaby: *photo attached*
his jaw tightens, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. then he clicks the photo, and his breath catches somewhere in his chest as his eyes drag slowly over the image. your lips slightly parted, your chest, bare and soft under the daylight coming in from your room. the angle’s lazy and careless, barely even trying.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
his hand braces against the counter, fingers spreading slightly against the cool surface as he leans forward, head dipping. his patience, already worn thin from the run, from the past few weeks, from everything. and it’s your picture that has sukuna buckling over, aggressively jerking his swollen cock, zooming in on your tits, then back to your face, and finally shooting his load on himself and the counter.
“fuck.”
you barely make it back downstairs when you receive a photo, followed by a text. you flush at the bottom of the steps, flustered smile pulling at your lips as you stare at the cum covering sukuna’s sculpted abs, and then a thanks.
you heart the message, keeping your comment about how it’s barely been five minutes since you sent the photo, to yourself. and unfortunately the moment you glance up, your smile immediately drops.
“I was calling you,” your mom throws as she walks past you, easily scooping up your four year old niece, yazzy.
“she was ignoring you on purpose.”
your vein pops.
“I wasn’t ignoring her,” you snap at jennie, irritation written all over your voice as shoko pops her head out from the kitchen. “why did you come a week early, I thought you had stuff to do?”
your mom huffs at the attitude, her eyes flicking to see shoko, before plastering a smile, “always arguing,” she waves, her attempt at distracting your friend. “sisters.”
shoko laughs through her nose, smiling. as your mom introduces your niece to shoko, you’re reluctantly helping jennie with her suitcases, purposely giving her the cold shoulder. considering the last time you spoke turned into an argument and her leaving for the airport, you hadn’t reached out since.
“how’s working with dad?”
your eyes flick to her. “fine.”
“good.” there’s a beat of silence, just as shoko comes back to the living room.
“I’m gonna go to target,” shoko says.
your eyes lit up, “oh I’m coming too!”
shoko reserves her thoughts until you’re both in your sister’s old car. music filling the space, windows rolled down, and shoko glancing at the road ahead. “do you usually fight with your sister?”
you blink, slightly caught off guard.
“I mean,” you try to form your thoughts, “she’s just judgmental, and like—never puts herself in other people’s shoes.” you shift in the drivers seat. “she thinks she’s the smartest person in the world.”
shoko isn’t like utahime…she doesn’t pry in a lot, but she’s been staying with you for the last few weeks, so it’s only inevitable that she picks up on certain things. one of which is your horrible habit of avoiding any relationship head on. while your sister is one, she clearly sees it almost everyday when you guys are at the hospital.
for the amount of times you avoid mentioning your dad when you’re in school, you’re the first to help if he needs anything at work. the first to step in, the first to skip your lunch to help, the first to act…and you’re not embarrassed.
except when other doctors are around, seeing this…and the comments follow after…
“you’re such a good daughter.” “you must be your parents favorite.” “I wish my son would act like you.” “your dad must be so proud.”
and that’s when shoko would notice the shift. the way you’d get quiet, the way you’d force out a smile, the way you’d excuse yourself to finish work. and shoko couldn’t understand the difference until you were at the bar after work. you weren’t even drinking, your sad sat comfortably in your hand as you stared at the sticky table.
“i have no idea why adults think i wanna hear being called my parents favorite like I’m ten or something,” you scowl quietly, irritation bubbling over from the long ass day.
“yeah that was weird,” shoko nods along sipping from her drink and scrolling on her phone.
“like actually, I’m my dads favorite because I’m doing exactly what he wants me to do. obviously I’m not gonna embarrass him and be lazy especially because he got me this job, but that doesn’t mean i want to be there,” you groan head falling on the bar. “freaking hate working there, and i hate his stupid comments.”
shoko glances up, “did he say something today?”
you frown, “I can’t do this without you,” you recall his words, brows pinching tighter. “bros acting like I’m the best support beam ever, freaking doormat can’t even say anything back.” you bury your face in your arm.
shoko reaches a hand out, touching your arm in comfort. “yeah…hopefully you get something after the program.”
you hum quietly, higurama’s words from a few weeks ago resurfacing. “I have that meeting with hiromi’s uncle next week.”
shoko’s eyes light up. “ohh that’s really good!”
you smile at her excitement, nodding. “yeah, hopefully he gets me a contact.”
shoko nods frantically, “for sure for sure!” she waves a bartender, “let’s get a shot.”
“just one,” you cut in.
as the bartender slides two shot glances towards you gushing, shoko is raising the glass. “and gojo finally decided on dates for the trip.”
your brows furrow, “isn’t that with just your little high school group?”
shoko nods, “last summer gojo invited a ton of randos, and me and utahime told him we’re gonna invite you, but you had something last summer.” oh right. “so do these dates work for you,” shoko says turning her phone screen towards you.
you hum, butterflies breaking out inside your chest. it’ll be a good summer….just after these hellish few weeks.
so shoko stays silent on the ride to target, easily changing the topic and turning up the volume to the music.
“oh and sorry about my sister barging in, but she’ll be in a hotel next week when her husband comes, so you can just stay with me in my room.”
shoko waves you off, “all good.”
and the flow in the car returns as shoko talks about how she didn’t like the movie you just watched, while you defend it, hands flying, voice animated, a laugh slipping out of you. completely unaware of the events that transpire hours later, a few hundred miles away, with a certain soccer captain—
the venue is loud. amps buzzing, feedback screeching through cheap speakers, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder as the set bleeds into chaos with applause. people are shouting, laughing, drinks sloshing onto the floor—
and sukuna is already pushing through it, hard. people stumble when he hits them, curses thrown over shoulders, but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t apologize. doesn’t even look back. his expression is sharp, carved in something ugly and his jaw is locked so tight it aches, eyes dark and fixed on one thing only. backstage.
“move,” he snaps, voice cutting through the noise like a blade. someone tries to protest just for sukuna to aggressively shove past them anyway.
the curtain jerks as he pushes through, the muffled roar of the crowd dropping just enough, and then he sees him. choso.
sitting off to the side, shoulders hunched, eyes red…too red. his hands are clenched in his lap, knuckles pale, breathing uneven. sukuna’s blood pressure spikes so fast it feels dizzying, a rush of heat flooding his chest, his arms, his hands. and his fists are already curling before he even realizes it.
because just a foot away stands kaori.
sukuna goes completely still for half a second, his gaze dragging from her to the red mark on choso’s cheek.
then something in him snaps.
a/n: I know that was more than a month wait for the chapter. so many things happened, ramadan, work, etc. and I really thank you all for your patience, and it always makes me so unbelievably grateful that you guys are still reading, so thank you thank you thank you!!
and this was a very plot heavy chapter, and because I made you guys wait so long I’ll just lyk that next chapter will include the summer trip gojo has been planning, so it’ll be fun :p
sukuna knows women. he knows how to please them. how to make them moan, whine, cry. but knowing how to please a woman doesn’t mean he knows women. aka a woman’s cycle. in simple terms, sukuna has mainly grown up with men, his gramps, his brothers, toji — all he knows is a girl has a period, but he has never bothered to stay with a girl long enough to actually address her period.
well until his fuck buddy, you, open your door for him.
his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you towards his chest, lips locking with yours in moments. “Mmm,” he groans, tongue pushing past your lips, just to feel you press a hand to his chest. your lips break, air filling his lungs in disdain, eyes narrowing at you for pushing him away.
“you didn’t text me, dude,” you say, letting him pull away to drop his backbag on the floor, plastic bag in hand as he kicks his shoes off.
“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.
you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.
“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“
you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“
“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“
“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”
….
a silent beat passes.
then.
FUCK!
sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.
you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.
“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.
“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.
“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.
you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.
you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—
“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.
your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.
that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.
it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.
that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.
but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.
this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…
and yet, you won’t stop moving!
at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.
“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.
“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”
his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!
“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.
however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.
what’s going on?
“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.
your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”
“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”
sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.
his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.
usually when your friends stop by to ramble you have the curiosity to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—
“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.
finally, some peace and quiet in the library.
…shift…
well, it could only last so long.
his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—
tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?
sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…
“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.
“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.
his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…
he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.
what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!
it didn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.
“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.
his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”
you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—
“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.
“huh?”
sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.
your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…
“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words that you here before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”
“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.
“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“
“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—
“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”
your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”
the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it was the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…
but he blinked. once. twice—
“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—
“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.
by now, he knows that look.
you wanna fuck.
“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”
he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“
“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”
shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?
“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”
your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.
“what’s different about today?”
he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—
“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.
his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”
your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.
his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”
you nod, immediately.
he doesn’t wait.
two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.
“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“
but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?
“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.
your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”
fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.
"ry—aa-haah!"
shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"
"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"
unbelievable.
and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.
“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”
he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”
“you okay with how we fucked?”
you don’t blink, “yeah.”
yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.
all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.
the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.
sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.
he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon like it was made for you. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.
he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.
nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”
sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together when he doesn’t have all the pieces yet. “it’s not random.”
nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”
sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”
nanami raises a brow. “into what.”
sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.
nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”
“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”
“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”
there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”
nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”
nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”
sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“
nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.
“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.
geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey! the love of god,” he mutters, loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time.”
gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”
sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.
“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he crack his neck.
“you wish,” gojo shoots back.
people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.
and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, like something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.
sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.
your clit throbs.
“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”
you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.
the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.
his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.
something about that makes his brow twitch.
because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked, heavy, almost… expectant.
it lingers a second too long. then—
“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten— no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking!”
“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.
sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.
the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls moved out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.
gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.
and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a drunk frat game.
“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.
“gojo! spike that shit!”
water slaps against tile. everything is moving fast, bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts. but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun, messy, loud, and heated.
and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.
sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.
a winning point. a cheer explodes. and when he lands, water dripping down his shoulders, he glances at you, canines on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.
something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.
on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.
but sukuna, is too locked into the game to notice.
the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.
you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you wanted to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—
your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving like a blur that you don’t focus on another moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.
your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.
“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“
your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.
it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.
even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”
sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.
“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…
the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.
sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.
you’re suddenly ripped away.
“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.
“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”
“LET’S GO!”
“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…
something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.
“damn!”
sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.
the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”
he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.
“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.
sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”
the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”
“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.
the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.
“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.
“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.
you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.
“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.
gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”
people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…
“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”
it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.
sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.
the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.
sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.
you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.
utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.
and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.
it irritates him, fast.
sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.
his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.
the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.
“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.
utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.
“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .
your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.
“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.
“oh my god I remember!”
your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”
sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.
gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.
and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.
but people are looking. they always are now.
they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.
he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.
you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.
and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.
his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.
“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”
utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”
“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”
a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”
you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”
sukuna catches it.
the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,
by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.
sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”
they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.
gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”
and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.
“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.
“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.
you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.
“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.
“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“
“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”
gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.
sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.
you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.
“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.
sukuna tenses. breath hitching.
his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.
“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.
“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“
“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”
his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?
you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.
it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.
“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.
to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.
“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.
“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.
he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.
“yeah baby.”
a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tube’s edge.
“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”
unbelievable.
sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.
“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.
“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”
your brain short circuits. face burning hot.
“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tube water touch your heated pussy.
“you’re gettin on top of me—“
“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.
“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”
you blink. once.
sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”
ah fuck.
“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.
you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”
his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”
“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.
your flush with embarrassment, lips parting as your lashes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”
unbelievable.
his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.
as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!
“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.
fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.
gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”
geto elbows him. “idiot!”
gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.
“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.
“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.
a beat passes.
then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”
“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“
“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”
geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”
gojo nods, “yeah…”
your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.
his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.
you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”
“and?”
your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“
“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.
you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.
your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”
your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately sends a rush of heat down to his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.
sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now you’re humping his cock like you can feel something with the water’s friction.
all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.
“shit.”
you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”
your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.
but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the way you don’t stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.
“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.
you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.
his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.
you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”
that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part of the cycle comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.
“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”
you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away… you’re panting at him through glossy, lidded eyes.
and then sukuna notices.
the shift.
your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.
his grip tightens instinctively.
your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change his cock twitching uncontrollably.
your brows pinch, then your body tenses, then softens, like a wave hitting and pulling back all at once. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.
and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. because now he knows. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes—like something wired wrong in his brain just flipped on. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—
absolutely the fuck not.
but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.
and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfied settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”
his lips ghost over you.
then he feels it…the eyes.
his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they. witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.
“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”
his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.
“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.
“no.”
his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.
“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips of yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”
you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”
that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
and people notice.
of course they do.
your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”
“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically on his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.
your stomach twists. uncomfortable. sharp. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you have no claim, no say, no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and it’s like they’re in on something they’re not supposed to be. they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.
your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, down the dark wet hairs of his happy trail. the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.
your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.
“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.
sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”
“people are staring,” you grit.
your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.
“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.
his head tips back in defeat.
unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.
“can you walk faster,” you mutter.
sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.
“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer. closer. until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you.
hard.
it’s sudden. messy. all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.
and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are pockets, small ones, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.
but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.
he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.
he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.
“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist like he’s grounding himself. “you taste so good.”
your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.
“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”
there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follows inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.
and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.
“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna’s tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discards them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on the nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“
your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.
“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as your slick lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”
“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.
the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”
fuck you. seriously.
his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.
his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.
“look like a fuckin’ porn star on top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing your gorgeous tits. “fucking brat—“
his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. knows when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, meaner, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass for the nth time until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.
it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…
“cu—uh—cum.”
an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.
“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”
“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.
“you can keep going?”
you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.
“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.
you mewl against his lips, earning a mean spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he does that for god knows how long, until you finally spasm around his digits. he’s then flipping you over, easily getting on top.
“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out right in front of his eyes. he must know his voice’s affects on you.
you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your puffy pussy. “what a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.
“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over him these last two days.
he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“
“hot tub.”
“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”
“please,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with your hard dick.”
sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”
you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”
“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!
you raise a brow at him, relaxing back on the pillows pressed against the headboard, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”
sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”
“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.
“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.
“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”
“because I’m touching you?”
you nod.
“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels burns a trail up your body.
you nod.
his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy.
turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.
“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”
your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.
“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.
you nod.
his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bent on the bed. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”
you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.
his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.
you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his, cheeks hot. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ proved how horny you’ve been these past few days.”
your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”
something dark and electric flashes through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just heat, thick and immediate. his grip on your hand tightens to the point it almost borders on rough.
“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”
“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds. “with your cock…your cum….”
“keep going,” he husks.
your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. hard. use me. cum in me.”
“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”
your lips are glossed with spit as he presses his lips against yours. he swallows your moans, snapping his hips with a mean hard thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.
and you love it.
the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the pools strobe lights, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.
“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside your poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, it won’t make me stop.”
and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. engorged tip bruising your cervix with every snap of his sharp fit hips. he’s harder than usual, and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight into each thrust — you don’t push him away.
“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ his voice breaks, and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy harsh humps, burying himself deep inside you, you’re sliding against the mattress. the rasp in his throat has you holding onto him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is on top of your smaller body.
and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.
“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters. “when you’re ovulating.”
“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”
he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, nah you definitely smell good.”
your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“
“you humped me in the hot tub.”
your brows scrunch together. “so?”
he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.
he smirks.
of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you aren’t stuffed with loads of his cum.
“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, your face burn, and your heart skip a beat…you don’t comment on it. you don’t address it. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.
and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.
more frat!kuna here
a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!
and thank you for the wait. I really put most of my free time into this so I can’t tell u when I’ll finish the next chapter of the series, so bare with me for another possible week of agony :’(
synopsis: bodies pressed together in the heat. three people in a motel room where desire finally wins and someone says I love you.
the birds keep singing even in cages they build themselves.
content: gojo satoru x fem!reader, MDNI (18+ ONLY), college au, friends with benefits, s3x worker gojo satoru, SMUT, quiet s3x, s3x in a shared room, l bomb, trauma, addictions, PINING, YEARNING, IDIOTS IN LOVE, insecurities
notes: FINALLY THE SMUT EVERYONE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR.
TAGLIST CLOSED
MASTERLIST - MOODBOARD - CHAPTER I, CHAPTER II, CHAPTER III, CHAPTER IV, CHAPTER V, CHAPTER VI, CHAPTER VII, CHAPTER VIII, CHAPTER IX, CHAPTER X, CHAPTER XI, CHAPTER XII
I.
Emi announces it on a Tuesday morning.
"There's a show, two towns over. My favorite band—well, not favorite but they're good enough and they never come anywhere near here so we're goin'."
She's standing in the doorway of the cabin, hair tangled and eyes bright.
She's been up all night, probably.
Satoru looks up from the wood he's sanding. "We?"
"Yeah, we. You, me, her." Emi points at you where you're sitting on the porch steps with coffee going cold in your hands.
"I don't know—" Satoru starts.
"C'mon, when's the last time you did somethin' fun? When's the last time any of us did?" Emi's grin is sharp. "It'll be good. There's live music and cheap beer, strangers we'll never see again."
You look at Satoru. He looks at you.
Something passes between you, unspoken.
"Okay," you say.
Satoru sighs. "Yeah, okay."
Emi's face splits wide. "Fuck yes. We leave Friday, gonna be fuckin' sick."
II.
Friday comes hot and thick.
You pile into Satoru's pickup truck—the one the mechanic fixed for almost nothing because that's how this town works.
Emi calls shotgun so you climb into the back.
The truck bed is rusted through in places, you can see the road beneath your feet through the holes.
The wind whips your hair into knots.
Satoru drives with the windows down, his white hair catches light.
You watch the back of his neck, the line of his shoulders, the way his hands grip the wheel.
You haven't touched him in two weeks, not really.
You've been circling each other, like if you move too fast something will break.
Emi has the radio cranked, it's some station that plays nothing but screaming.
She's singing along. Off-key. Loud. Her arm hanging out the window.
The landscape blurs past.
Trees.
Fields.
Gas stations with hand-painted signs.
Towns with populations under a thousand.
Your phone is in your pocket, dead. It has been dead for days.
You're here now and that's all that matters.
The sun on your face, the wind in your lungs, the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume drifting back from where Emi sits.
This is good.
This is exactly where you're supposed to be.
III.
The town is bigger than yours but not by much.
There's one main street, bars with neon signs, a diner that looks identical to every diner you've ever seen.
The venue is called The Pit.
It's a basement bar that smells like spilled beer and decades of sweat soaked into concrete.
The stage is a platform maybe six inches off the ground and the sound system crackles with feedback.
Emi pushes to the front immediately.
She's wearing a dangerously short dress for the occasion and black lipstick that's already smudged.
She gets a beer from the bar—doesn't get carded, never gets carded—and disappears into the crowd.
You and Satoru hang back.
The room is filling up, bodies pressing close.
The heat is suffocating and sweat drips down your spine before the band even starts.
"You okay?" Satoru asks. He has to lean close to be heard, his breath tickles your ear.
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah."
But he's watching Emi.
She's already found someone, some guy with tattoos and a leather jacket.
She's laughing, touching his arm and performing the version of herself that always gets attention.
"She'll be fine," you say.
Satoru doesn't look convinced.
The band starts.
Bass in your chest, drums in your skull.
The singer is screaming something unintelligible into a microphone that distorts every word.
The crowd surges forward and you stumble.
Satoru's hand catches your waist, steadies you.
His hand stays there.
IV.
Bodies start moving as one mass.
The heat builds, sweat and beer and something electric in the air.
You lose track of Emi, lose track of everything except the music and the press of bodies and Satoru's hand on your waist.
He pulls you closer.
Not a choice but a necessity as someone slams into you from behind and you pitch forward into his chest.
He catches you, both hands on your waist now, holding you against him.
You look up.
His eyes are darker.
The blue gone deep like the sea at night.
You haven't seen this look in months, not since you were his and he was yours in whatever fucked-up way that meant.
Longing.
That's what this is.
His hands tighten on your waist.
The music is so loud you can't think but you don't need to think, you just need to feel this. Him.
He leans down, mouth close to your ear. "You good?"
You nod.
His breath on your neck is hot, making you shiver despite the heat.
His thumb traces circles on your hip through your shirt, unconscious maybe or very conscious, you can't tell.
The song changes.
The crowd sways instead of slams.
You're pressed chest to chest now, his heart against yours.
Both racing
He's looking at you like he wants to consume you and be consumed in equal measure.
You remember this feeling, this need.
You've been so careful but you're done pretending.
You tilt your face up, an invitation.
His eyes drop to your mouth.
V.
The band plays three more songs but you don't hear any of them.
You're too aware of Satoru and the heat coming off him.
Too aware of the way he hasn't let go of your waist, the way he keeps looking at your mouth and then away like he's trying to resist and failing.
When the band finally stops, when the lights come up harsh and fluorescent and the crowd starts to disperse, you feel like you're surfacing from underwater.
Emi appears drunk, very drunk.
She's hanging off the tattooed guy, her lipstick is gone. Transferred to his neck probably.
"This is—" She waves vaguely. "I don't remember his name buuut he's got a place and I'm gonna—"
Satoru tenses.
He looks at the guy, sees something you don't.
"No," Satoru says.
"What?" Emi blinks, unsteady.
"You're not going with him." Satoru's voice is firm.
The guy bristles. "The fuck, man?"
"She's drunk and you're taking advantage, we're leaving."
"I'm a grown fuckin' woman—" Emi starts.
"Who's about to pass out, come on." Satoru's already moving, taking Emi's arm and pulling her away from the guy who's now calling after them.
He's saying things that make you want to turn around and break his nose.
You follow.
Out of The Pit and into night air that feels cold after the sauna of the venue.
Emi is complaining, words slurred, saying she wanted to go home with him. saying Satoru's being dramatic.
"He was looking at you like meat, Emi."
"So? That's what I am."
"No it's not."
"Yes it fuckin' is, that's all I'll ever be and that's okay I want it—"
She stumbles.
Satoru catches her and lifts her like she weighs nothing.
She's still protesting weakly as he carries her to the truck, still slurring about how she's fine, she can make her own decisions, she doesn't need anyone saving her.
You open the truck door and Satoru sets her in the passenger seat, her head lolls back.
"Satoru's so mean," she mumbles. "So fuckin' mean, won't even let me get laid."
"You'll thank me tomorrow," he says, gentle now.
He brushes hair out of her face.
"Sleep, Emi."
"Don't wanna sleeeeep, wanna partyyyy. Wanna feel somethin' good that isn't—" Her eyes close. "That isn't this."
She's out before Satoru even closes the door.
VI.
You got a motel room.
Single room with two twin beds. Cheap.
Satoru carries Emi inside and lays her on the bed closest to the bathroom.
She doesn't stir. Dead weight. Breathing heavy.
"She's gonna feel like shit tomorrow," you say.
"Yeah."
He stands there looking at her.
There's guilt on his face, or recognition.
Seeing himself in her, the self-destruction, the belief that being used is the same as being wanted.
"Come on," you say. "Let's give her some space."
Outside.
The parking lot is empty except for the truck.
Sodium lights casting everything orange, moths beating themselves against the bulbs.
Satoru pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
The flame illuminates his face for a second. Sharp angles and shadows under his eyes.
"Since when do you smoke?" you ask.
"Since I got here." He exhales, smoke curling. "Emi got me started, bad influence."
"Lots of things are different."
"Yeah."
You sit on the curb and he sits next to you. Close but not touching.
Above, the stars are out, more stars than you've ever seen.
The light pollution here is nothing, the sky goes on forever.
"It's nice," you say. "The stars."
"Yeah."
He's not looking at the stars, he's looking at you.
You turn.
Meet his eyes.
That same dark blue.
"Satoru—"
He kisses you.
Not gentle.
His hand in your hair and your hand fisting in his shirt. Mouths open, desperate.
You taste cigarettes and beer.
VII.
You barely make it inside, your hands everywhere, mouths not separating.
Satoru breaks away long enough to look at the bed where Emi sleeps. Still out and breathing heavy.
"Shhh," he whispers against your mouth. "Gotta be quiet."
You nod, can't speak.
He walks you backward toward the other bed.
His hands are on your waist, your hips, pulling you close.
You fall back onto the mattress and he follows, covering your body with his.
The weight of him.
Real. Solid. Here.
He kisses you again, slower this time.
He's savoring you like he's trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you.
His hand slides under your shirt, warm palm against your ribs.
You arch into the touch.
"I missed this," he breathes against your neck. "Missed you, so fucking much."
His mouth trails down to your jawline, your throat, your collarbone. Each kiss deliberate, worshipful.
You make a sound, too loud.
"Shh," he reminds you, smiling against your skin. "Don't wake her up."
His hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.
You're bare underneath, couldn't be bothered with a bra in this heat.
He stops and looks, like he's seeing you for the first time.
"Fuck," he whispers. "I forgot how—" He doesn't finish, just lowers his mouth to your chest.
His tongue is on your nipple, circling, flicking.
You bite your lip to keep quiet. Your hands in his hair, pulling.
He moves to the other side, same deliberate torture.
His teeth graze you, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to make you gasp.
"Satoru—"
"I know." His hand slides down, pops the button on your jeans. "I know, baby, gonna take care of you."
He pulls your jeans off and your underwear with them, leaves you bare on the motel sheets.
The lamp from outside casts orange light through the thin curtains.
You can see the want in his eyes.
He settles between your legs.
Kisses the inside of your thigh.
Once. Twice. Moving higher.
"You want this?" he asks, breath hot against your center.
"Yes... yes, please."
"Gonna make you feel so good." His tongue drags up your slit, flat and broad. "Gonna make you forget everything except my name."
VIII.
He eats you out like this is all he's wanted, all he's needed.
His tongue works you over slow at first, exploratory.
He's relearning what makes you shake, what makes you bite your fist to keep from screaming.
He finds your clit, circles it.
Soft licks that build and build until you're squirming, trying to get more, trying to get closer.
His hands grip your thighs, holding them open and holding you still.
"Stay," he murmurs. "Let me."
He sucks your clit into his mouth.
Gentle pressure first then harder.
His tongue flicking while he sucks and you see stars behind your eyelids.
"Fuck—" You catch yourself, lower your voice to a whisper. "Fuck, Satoru—"
"Mhm." He slides one finger inside you, then two.
Crooks them up and finds that spot that makes your back arch off the bed.
"That's my girl, so good for me, so fucking wet."
He works his fingers in and out, slow.
His mouth never leaves your clit and the combination is devastating.
You're already close.
It's been too long, too many nights alone thinking about this.
"Don't stop," you beg. "Please, please don't stop—"
"Never." His fingers speed up, his tongue matches the rhythm. "Gonna make you cum all over my tongue, wanna taste it."
The pressure builds, coils tight in your belly.
Your thighs start to shake.
"That's it," he encourages. "Can feel you getting close, your pussy's tightening around my fingers. Fuck, so fucking good for me."
He curls his fingers and presses hard against that spot inside you as his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit.
You cum with your fist in your mouth, biting down hard to muffle the sounds trying to rip out of you.
He doesn't stop, works you through it licking softly until you're too sensitive and pushing his head away.
He pulls back.
His mouth and chin glistening, he wipes it with the back of his hand.
Grins at you.
That's when you hear it, rustling from the other bed.
You both freeze.
Emi shifts.
Mumbles something then rolls over.
You and Satoru stare at each other, holding your breath.
She settles. Breathing returns to the heavy rhythm of sleep.
You exhale and Satoru does too.
Then you're both laughing, shoulders shaking trying not to make noise.
"Fuck," he whispers. "That was close."
"Too close."
He's still between your legs, hard in his jeans.
You can see the outline of him, straining against denim.
He notices you looking and his hand goes to his belt. "Can I—" He stops. "Do you want—"
"Yes." You're already reaching for him. "Yes, please. I need your cock inside me."
IX.
He stands, taking off his clothes quickly.
Jeans.
Boxers.
His cock springs free. He's hard, leaking already.
He strokes himself, his eyes on yours.
"You sure?" he asks.
"I'm sure."
He climbs back over you, settles between your legs.
The head of his cock is pressing against your entrance.
"Beg me," he whispers.
"Satoru—"
"Come on, wanna hear you say it."
"Please," you whisper. "Please fuck me, need it so bad, need you."
"How much?"
"So much, haven't stopped thinking about it. Please—"
He pushes in slow, so slow. Inch by inch.
Letting you feel every bit of him.
You both groan, quiet.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Forgot how tight—how good—" He bottoms out. "Perfect. You're so fucking perfect."
He pulls out almost all the way, then slides back in, slow.
Setting a rhythm that's gentle, tender.
This is different, different from when you were just fuck buddies, when it was rough and fast and detached.
His forehead's against yours, his breath mixing with yours.
His eyes are open, watching you.
"Missed this," he says, each word punctuated with a thrust. "Missed you, thought about you every night, every fucking night."
"Me too."
"Yeah?" He speeds up slightly. "Thought about me?"
"All the time."
"Good." He kisses you, deep. "Good."
His hand slides between you, finding your clit and rubbing circles in time with his thrusts.
The pleasure builds again.
It's deeper, starting in your chest and spreading out.
"Satoru—"
"I know, I can feel it, can feel you getting tight." His rhythm falters slightly. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last, you feel too good.. it's been too long—"
"It's okay, want you to cum, want to feel it inside me."
He buries his face in your neck, muffles his sounds against your skin.
His hips snap harder now, chasing his release.
"Love you," he gasps. "Fuck—I love you—"
The words punch through you, harder than the orgasm building.
He cums with a muffled groan against your throat.
You feel him pulse inside you, feel him shake and heavy on top of you.
Your own orgasm follows, rolling through you like a wave.
He stays inside you.
Both of you breathing hard, ttrying to remember how to exist separately.
"Did you mean it?" you whisper.
"What?"
"What you said, when you—"
He lifts his head.
Looks at you.
His eyes are clear now, honest.
"Yeah," he says. "I meant it."
X.
He pulls out and cleans you both up with tissues from the box on the nightstand.
Then he's back, pulling the covers over both of you and pulling you against his chest.
You fit there.
Head on his chest.
His heartbeat under your ear, his hand in your hair.
His breathing evens out, he's falling asleep.
You listen to his heart and count the beats.
Let yourself believe just for tonight that tomorrow won't ruin it.
Sleep takes you both.
XI.
Morning comes gray and humid.
You wake tangled together, his arm around your waist and your leg between his.
For a moment—just a moment—everything is perfect.
Then Emi groans from the other bed.
"Fuck, my head. What the fuck happened?"
You and Satoru separate, trying to look casual.
Emi sits up.
Mascara down her cheeks and hair a disaster.
"Did we—" She looks around. "Where am I?"
"Motel," Satoru says. "You got wasted, we brought you back."
"Oh." She stands, wobbles. "Gonna throw up."
She makes it to the bathroom then the sound of retching follows.
You and Satoru get dressed quick.
When Emi emerges she looks slightly better.
She brushes her teeth with her finger and motel toothpaste and fixes her hair as best she can.
"Ready?" Satoru asks.
"Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here."
She heads for the door. Then stops, looking back at you both.
Her eyes narrow, taking in your faces.
"You guys look weird," she says. "All... smiley and shit."
"We do not—" you start.
"OH MY GOD." Her face shifts, mock horror.
"You fucked, you guys fucked while I was sleepin'."
Satoru laughs, he doesn't deny it but doesn't confirm it either.
"You're disgusting," Emi says. "That's so fuckin' rude, I'm right there and you guys are just—"
"You were passed out," Satoru says.
"Still." But she's laughing now. "Ugh, whatever. Let's go, I need food and like gallons of water."
XII.
The drive back is quiet, peaceful.
Emi sleeps in the passenger seat with her head against the window and mouth open.
You're in the back again.
Wind in your face, sun on your skin.
The landscape rolls past.
It's the same as yesterday but different, everything feels different.
You think about last night.
About Satoru's mouth on you, his hands, his voice saying I love you
You think about how nice this is, the three of you.
You feel the sun warm on your face.
The birds calling from telephone wires.
The way the sky looks infinite from here.
This is good, this is where I'm supposed to be.
You don't notice the trap closing tighter.
The sun feels good on your skin.
The birds are singing.
Everything is fine.
XIII.
But fine is a lie people tell themselves when they're in freefall and haven't hit the ground yet.
From a distance, if you were watching from outside, you'd see it clearly.
The birds keep singing.
They don't know any better, they just sing because that's what birds do. Even when they're in cages, even when the cage is invisible.
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else ✦ frat!kuna fwb ✦ ongoing series
series masterlist ✮ previous chp ✮ next chp (coming soon)
sukuna wakes slow and heavy-limbed. he’s fogged over with the kind of sleep that only comes after exhaustion and release finally line up for just a moment. the sheets are warm and tangled around his legs exposing his naked torso to the cool air of your bedroom. his body still humming with that dull, satisfied ache that reminds him of last night’s pleasures.
for a moment he doesn’t move. just controlled breathes. eyes half-lidded as he blinks slowly. and he lets the quiet settle.
then he notices you.
you’re framed in the open doorway between the bedroom and the living room, back half-turned to him, pacing softly like you’re afraid of waking the apartment. a phone is pressed to your ear, your voice low and controlled in that way he’s learned — after starting this deal with you over a month and half ago — means you’re holding something back with annoyance.
you’re wearing only an oversized one piece t-shirt, the fabric slipping off one shoulder when you turn, bare legs catching the morning light as you pace. sukuna stays still, eyes tracking you without shame or restraint — the fresh marks on your skin pulls his attention like gravity, evidence of last night written openly where only he can see.
he doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t clear his throat. he just watches. groggy and unguarded. something unfamiliar and heavy settles subtly over his chest as he takes you in like this, quiet, half-dressed, soft.
the week hasn’t disappeared. neither have the problems he’s quietly pushed back for the moment. but from where he’s lying, tangled in your sheets, it’s impossible to pretend that he isn’t grateful to have this agreement. even with the new condition added on last night, his mind is only circling the moans that slipped your lips. the comforter, tossed on the ground, evidence of your little surprise. and the slight warmth in his chest at the thought of sleeping with you again.
the clanking of your beaded curtains draws his attention back up. your hand tossles your bed hair, his eyes follow the movement, slowly tracking down your figure, and the rise of your shirt. he notices the light hand marks he’d left last night on your hips, along with some hickies along your bare thighs.
“was I loud?” you grumble, tossing your phone haphazardly on the dresser.
sukuna clicks his tongue, hand scratching his chest before tucking his arm behind his head, his bicep subtly flexing. “were ya—“ sukuna stifles a loud yawn, missing the way you cross the room. your fingers graze his warm chest, eyes flicking to the obvious bulge under the thin blanket, his coarse happy trail an invitation.
“ngh—“ sukuna groans at the sudden weight dropped on his lap, but easily draws his free hand to caress your hip under your shirt. “were ya up long?”
you shake your head, hands on his pecs tracing the ink that marks his broad chiseled chest, “do you need to be anywhere?” you ask.
his eyes drop from your face to the subtle way you’re rocking your hips. the sheer blanket barely acts as a barrier between your pussy and his morning wood. his hand squeezes your hips, kneading the soft flesh.
your hands continue caressing his chest, like it was the first time you’re touching him, but really, you were just turned on. his hand leaves your hip for a second, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, just for your hand to follow, caressing his veiny forearm.
“touchy this mornin’,” he grumbles, dropping the hand back to your waist. the soft pads of your fingers trace up the veins of his arms, squeezing and groping the tattoos wrapped around his biceps. “I don’t needa be anywhere. do you?” he eyes your phone, causing you to glance away from his muscles, to the deep red eyes.
you wet your lips, hesitating for a moment, then shaking your head.
his brow quirks, hand twitching when you start rocking a little quicker, the blanket slipping lower with each rock, his thick happy trail scratching at your puffy clit now. a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as you press your hands to his lower abdomen, his abs flexing under your palms as you begin humping him quicker. you were absolutely shameless, that was his favorite part about you. you can feel his hard cock pressing up against the blanket, pushing against your ass.
“pretty turned on,” he snorts, biting his lip as you give another delicious roll of your hips, moaning softly, eyes fluttering. you’re unbelievable. “wanna put it inside?” he spreads his thighs, hand grabbing at your waist, but instead your lips fall down connecting with his collarbone, shocking the man briefly.
but what takes him completely by surprise is when your lips continue trailing south. the slow drag of your wet lips on his warm skin, the gentle possessiveness of your fingers feeling his body.
you were in a different mood than last night.
his jaw tenses, watching you closely as you suck a bruise on his lower abdomen, your hand feeling the deep ridges of his hard earned abs. you push the blanket further down, crawling between his thick thighs. your lashes bat gently, savoring every kiss you press against the man, until your fingers gently touch his wrist.
his pupils dilate, breath hitching in his throat.
you’re staring up at him, breath fanning against the thick groomed hairs of his pubes, and your gentle fingers have firmly gripped his wrist, gently placing it on the crown of your head.
seriously? his neck strains with control, wetting his bottom lip as you nuzzle subtly into his hand.
something’s definitely up…
“you’re fucking insane,” his words come off colder than he’d intended, but if there was one thing about you, it’s that you’ll almost always bite.
you hum in quiet confirmation, lashes batting as you kiss his lower pelvis. your manicured nails brush his thick pubes as you kiss him lower, hand pushing his thick cock down as you glance up at him through your lashes. you don’t think twice about nuzzling your cheek in his musk, as if you’re oblivious to the obvious stench of sex from last night, and he could’ve sworn your eyes were just a bit more glossy than usual as you subtly inhaled.
that’s when he finally flexed his forearm, his hand that you’d placed on your hand, finally brushes your hair, thumb falling on your forehead as he caresses the soft skin. petting.
his cock stirs. stomach twisting. the calmness quietly takes him by surprise. your lashes flutter shut for a moment, breath fanning against his most private area, tension forced off your shoulders. and he watches closely, the way you melt between his legs just from the action of petting your head.
your expression turned gentle. the knit in your brows from your phone call eased, and your lips part with even breaths, your shoulders rise a little more, until your fingers flex, gripping his cock in surprise.
“shit,” a sharp hiss escapes his lips, cock jumping in your hand as you nuzzle closer, kissing his base. his muscles flex with control, slightly irritated by your pace, but not completely oblivious to your distant gaze.
so he continues petting you.
occasionally brushing your cheeks before returning his large hand to the top of your head, humming in satisfaction when you begin kissing his cock with more intention. your lips suck on the veins at the base of his cock, tongue flat before dragging it up to his flushed red tip, spitting. his thighs spread, hand holding the side of your head, allowing his thumb to grant you whatever relief you needed by caressing your cheekbones.
“good girl,” he rasps, voice still groggy from the morning. his cock twitches as he feels your spit slide from his tip to his girthy base, your hand lubricating him as you kiss his tip again and again. the coil already starts twisting deep in his gut as you take your time. your jaw opens wider, holding his cock as you slap it against your tongue.
eyes locked on him.
a low groan escapes his throat, hips rising slightly. his leg is bent open just for his impressive cock to twitch some more, slit leaking bitter pre for your tongue to lap up like ice cream.
you’re fucking messing with him.
his head tips back, throat bopping and arm draping over his face. his bicep flexing, controlling himself. he’s snapped at you to get on with it before, he might as well snap now. but there’s a great fucking chance you’d just stop. pull away. glare at him. and though he’s sure he can convince you to keep going. it still feels like you’re both walking on thin ice.
you’d just mended things. he’s not a complete idiot to act like an asshole after that, even if he thinks bickering during sex is what your relationship is—but you’re acting uncharacteristically different. so he bites his tongue, keeping a hand on your head allowing you to go at your pace like his cock is there to serve you and not him.
it’s torture.
are you punishing him? that can be the only explanation to why you’re suckling his painfully engorged tip for the past ten-fifteen-twenty minutes??? you’re acting like it’s the first time you’re seeing a man’s cock.
your lips part, a soft moan escaping as you get a taste of his bitter cum, swallowing more of his length as you bob your head slowly, hand pumping the rest as you cup his heavy balls.
“fuuck me,” he grunts low and dangerous, fingers tightening around your hair, pushing you down as you gag. your whines go straight to his cock, his head dizzy from the edging, and screaming for release.
your fingers tighten around his base, before pushing against his toned thighs, trying to push off, but his hand remains firm on your head, keeping you down as you swallow more of his length. deepthroating.
“haah fuck, jus’ like that, baby, fuckin’ mouth feels like heaven—ngh gun’ cum in this hole,” his words strain, forearms flexing as he bucks his hips up. his cock hits the back of your throat immediately triggering your tears.
your nails dig into his thighs, breathing through your nose as your throat constricts around his cock, finally sending him over the edge.
“fuck-fuck—“ the loud unfiltered groan fills the bedroom. his thick cum spills down your throat, suffocating you as you finally push his hand off.
his cum hits your face as you gasp for air, swallowing the cum that filled your mouth as the rest paints your chin and lips. “fuuck me,” he groans, chest heaving as his hand falls from his face to his stomach.
your cheeks flush, heart hammering as you catch your breath, watching the huge man on your bed soak in his post nut bliss. your brows furrow, anger quietly bubbling under the surface, just to still when you see the lazy grin on his face, canines peaking. the furious heat that blows your face, triggers your realization that you’re absolutely soaked. he’d just used your face and you’re unbelievably wet—
“are ya mad?” he sighs, opening an eye to glance at you. his hand comes back to your face, wiping his cum from your chin, just to push it to your lips. “open.”
you’ve definitely lost your mind.
your soft lips part. his thumb pushes in. eyes locked on your glossy lips sucking the rough digit, cleaning his cum off. his cock stirs again, eyes lidded as he maintains eye contact. your lashes bat up at him, curiosity and anger mixed together, just for his eyes to break your skin, face a hot mess.
“taste good?”
sukuna scoffs as you shake your head. you pull off for a moment, fingers brushing his forearm as he holds your jaw.
“it’s more bitter,” you admit, “were you drinking a lot this week?”
his jaw tenses, remembering the events of the past week without you—
“i like it when it tastes sweet,” you say. his hand falls as you pull away. your fingers grab the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it.
“when does it ever taste sweet?” he scoffs, watching as you stand up, eyes flicking to the way your nipples harden at the cool air, tits swaying as you grab a new box of condoms from your drawer. he catches sight of your ass, bruised and gorgeous.
“most of the time it does,” you answer, taking out a condom, and tossing it on his stomach. then you climb back between his legs.
his eyes widen briefly.
you face away from him. your hips rise as you position your feet under his bent legs. his muscular thighs flex, biting back a groan as he grabs a handful of your ass, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. he moves slightly up, resting his back on the pillows and headboard.
“don’t wanna face me ‘cause i came down y’er throat?” he jerks his cock, before sliding the condom on. he’s not complaining about the view, yeah, he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure, but this view was an easy fucking turn on.
“i wanna go at my pace,” you huff, raising your hips as your hand comes between your legs. sukuna bites back a grin as you grip his cock, positioning it at your hole.
“y’er pussy looks fucking tiny from here, sure y’er not gonna cry?” he teases, holding your ass apart, thumbs close to your entrance keeping you open for his greedy eyes.
“m’ fine,” you mumble, biting your lip as you push his tip against your cute little cunt, slowly sinking down. the smallest whimper escapes your throat at the stretch of his engorged tip. “haaah…”
his jaw slacks, a low airy chuckle sinks in your ear as the athlete watches your ass bounce and shake over his tip, making it snug right into your gummy walls to suck in.
“c’mon a lil’ more finesse, babe,” he comments, amused at the way you lean forward grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheet, back arching even deeper. “fuuck.”
spank.
a shocked gasp leaves your lips. ass bouncing with more vigor, pussy sucking in more of his length.
spank!
“angh!” your moan pierces the air, your pussy oozing slick as you ride his big chubby cock. every spank to your ass a signal to go faster.
god, it feels so good.
“keep shakin’ your pretty ass in my face—“ spank! “fuck—take this cock like a good girl. ya like havin, this pussy filled, don’t ya?” spank!
“yeeah,” you pant, ass slamming down to meet his hips. your eyes fluttering with every drag, mind growing numb every time his tip hits your cervix,
“yeah, keep going—ngh keep goin’,” his rough grunts from behind you has you chasing the coil twisting in your gut. “missed this pussy all week…you missed it too right? missed this big cock stretching y’er cunt?
“anngh ryo-ryo wanna cum on you, ry—haah ah,” your lips part, choked whines flowing out with each hard spank to your ass. his grip tightens on your hips, slamming you down harder, suffocating his cock around your weeping pussy.
his hips rise to meet yours halfway, your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch. biting your lip as you fist the sheets. you ignore the sting in your thighs as you keep bouncing, tongue falling out like a dumb slut as he spanks you harder. unsympathetic to your cries as he keeps your ass bouncing over him.
then, his eyes flick to your other hole. his pupils blow black, heart hammering as his thumb slowly moves to the puckering hole. “fucking winking at me,” he mutters to himself.
“feels so good, ryo,” you whine, unaware of his new sudden attention. his thumb rubs the dip in your spine, biting his lip as you slam down again. fuck your asshole looks so pretty, he thinks, face burning. “ryo—“ your moans pitch higher, snapping him back.
“slutty pussy,” he grunts, biting his lip to spank your ass again, pupils dilating at the recoil. “yeah,” his hands glide over the globes of your ass, chuckling as your bouncing grows sloppy. whines carefully hitting the walls as you sit up, hands on his knees, as you start slamming down harder. “shiit.”
his knuckles turn white, gripping your hips as he feels you start clamping, your hands go back to the sheets between his legs, panting like a little slut that’s never fucked herself on a big cock before.
“gunna cum-gonnacumgonna—ahh—“ your hips still, his cock fully sheathed inside your tight pussy, whining. he feels you clench around him in spasms. your glossy lips slick with drool, choked whines escaping as a hot white orgasm rocks through your veins.
“god, this pussy is dirty,” he spanks your ass again. a low groan crawls up his chest as you slowly rock back n forth, dragging your climax.
then with just his tip in, pussy stretched and oozing around him, balanced on your forearms and knees, you glance over your shoulder.
“use my pussy, ryo.”
he blinks.
his heart stutters.
then his face blows hot bright pink.
he’d just woken up. the man had been holding back for your sake. even though he can tell you’re not all there. mind wandering with that distant look in your eyes. he’s a man at the end of the day. and if you’re batting your lashes at him like that, with that look in your eyes, asking him to use you? well, there’s no stopping him.
your head was stirring from quiet to loud. you’d been up around an hour ago to use the bathroom, and mistakenly detoured to your buzzing phone in the living room once you’d stepped out of the bathroom. the pit in your stomach felt bigger now that finals is officially over, and today was the start of summer.
with that realization, your dads caller id felt like everything you’d been avoiding finally toppling onto your shoulders, and suffocating you into the ground.
your sister had decided after she’d left your niece, yazzy, with you for too long and almost made you miss your final, that it would be a great idea to come over the same night, and thursday, and friday. all the way up until your brother-in-law finally finished his meeting: and was ready to head to the airport.
however, this quality time with your older sister couldn’t have been at a worse time.
“what?!” your eyes widen, lurching back. you were sitting on the couch, yazzy was playing with some legos on the floor, and your sister was scrolling on her phone.
jennie nods, “yeah I know, weird.”
“that’s really really weird. why the hell is everyone getting married so early? like we’re still in college??” you ramble, shocked by the news your sister had just told you. another one of your close family friends just got engaged, mind you she’s your age, “and the guy is her age too?”
jennie nods, cringing, “yeah, he’s still in school, and mom was saying that their gonna live with his parents until like, he makes money.”
you cringe, “I’d actually kill myself.”
jennie snorts, nodding along, “no like I’d actually kill myself.”
“dunno why she wouldn’t wait until they at least graduate and get a little stability. that’d actually be the worst possible thing, living off your in-laws money and they’re not even that wealthy,” you judge, only being able to do that around your sister. “wait— I literally thought she was still with leo?”
“no actually,” you sister easily agrees, and shrugs to your second inquiry. she’s scrolling through her messages until she finds the photos she’s looking for. “this was the engagement party mom went too, her dress is pretty here.”
you lean over, taking the phone from your sister to look, “yeah, she looks really pretty.”
“mama was telling me how they met in school. they were in the same student club, I think she was president and he was vice president or something,” jennie explains, while you swipe through the pictures. “they talked for like five months before getting engaged.”
“what?!” your eyes blow even wider. “just five months?!!”
you sister snorts, “yeah, insane.”
“yeah what the actual hell?,” you hand her back her phone, mind slowly wandering…. “yeah, I’m definitely not getting married in school or straight out either. I’d rather die.” your sister quietly snorts, not in a way she’s hiding either. your brows furrow briefly, rolling your eyes the second you see that look on her face. “what?”
“nothing. I didn’t even say anything.”
you frown harder, “you’re making that stupid face. so what?”
jennie rolls her eyes, “you say you’re not gonna do a lot of things and you end up doing it.” she trails.
but you’re already frowning.
“you’re so annoying —you always get mad and I haven’t even said anything—“ she starts.
“yeah, because I know what you’re gonna say and I literally said that’s not how I am. sorry i can’t act out once. I guess that’s your thing,” you tsk.
jennie barely bats an eye as she speaks over you, “if you don’t want to go to med school. don’t. you’re a doormat about literally everything. you’re scared to make mom and dad upset and then you come complaining to me. you’ve always been like that. I’m not gonna do it, I don’t wanna do it. then you end up doing it. it’s annoying hearing you whine,” jennie huffs.
your eyes feel sore from how much you’ve rolled them, “like it’s that easy when he’s literally taking out loans and paying for me to go to school.”
“he did the same thing for me and i still dropped it. I’d rather havw done anything else than go to med school,” your sister makes that annoying ass so what face. “you’re just a goodeytoes.”
“I’m literally not. and unlike you I actually feel bad when dad wastes money—“
“It’s your future. he’s not even forcing you to do it. you just keep saying you wanna do it—“
“I never said I wanted to do it—“
“well you basically did when dad asked what else are you gonna do and you didn’t even wanna tell me him you’re interested in other stuff. and then when he pushed you to go pre-med you just went along with the it…like a doormat.”
your jaw ticks, blood pumping viscously in your ears. “I’m not a doormat, I’m just indecisive.”
“yeah, well same thing,” your sister says, your mouth opens to reply when her phone starts buzzing. your face goes pale at the caller id.
“don’t pick up—“
“hey dad.”
you sink into the couch, heart beating against your ribs as you anxiously hear the sound of your dads voice. you hadn’t spoken to him since you’d told him you’re not taking you mcats this summer. it’s almost been two full weeks of you dodging his calls, and dryly replying to his texts.
“yeah she’s sitting right next to me,” your sister puts him on speaker.
you inhale sharply, taking a deep breath as your dad greets you. his tone calm, clearly cautious, as if you’ll run away from a phone call. which you’ve been doing, but it’s irritating nonetheless because he already knows you’re there.
“how are your finals going?” he asks.
your lips purse, “fine.” your eyes flick up, “i can barely study with jennie here though.”
“I don’t even bother you—“
“I was up all night because I couldn’t do anything in the morning. she had me babysit yazzy all day and yesterday and she knows I have finals. I almost missed my exam yesterday because she didn’t pick up yazzy in time.”
“that wasn’t my fault—“
“jennie,” your dad cuts the argument.
your sister gives the biggest eye roll known to man, and you know she’s going to give you attitude after the call. but you’d rather snitch and distract your dad, than give him the chance to turn the attention on you.
however, he’s a surgeon. meaning, he’ll get to the point easily and never beat around the bush. even after scolding jennie on your behalf, he quickly shifts, your name cutting through the speaker, “did you sign the forms I emailed you?”
your sister glances up, eyes boring into yours as you sink back, head falling on the cushion as the anxiety quickly crawls up your throat.
“I got your friend’s forms, she signed them quickly, so I need you to do that soon,” your dad certainly has a way of talking at you, rather than to you. however, you’re not much to confront him, especially when you’re not even confident in what you’ll be doing this summer. all you know is you do not want to work with your dad, but you’d rather die than ever say that to his face.
“I’m still like…waiting to hear back from some other places, so I don’t wanna commit to that,” you scratch at the cushion.
your sister rolls her eyes — it’s almost like that’s the only thing she knows how to do.
“what exactly are you waiting for you? you said you’re going to work in the summer, are you backing out?” his harsh tone quickly has you clenching your jaw in frustration.
“it’s the summer before my senior year. I said I had things that I wanted to check out—“
“you can’t just keep going back and forth when you agree to something,” he snaps. “that’s what being an adult is. you said you would take your mcats in the summer, and work. if you don’t have anything to do than you’re going to work. I don’t wanna come home everyday and see you just sitting at home waking up past twelve—“
“I wasn’t going to just sit at home,” you tsk.
“then what’re you going to do?” his harsh tone immediately shuts you up. there’s no talking to him when he’s like this. it was the sureness in his tone that always made you feel incompetent, like every second you spend indecisive, is another day wasted. you roll your eyes, getting up. “if you have something that’ll keep you busy for the summer, that’s not just sitting at home, then tell me and I’ll leave you alone. but you don’t.”
“okay, whatever,” you storm off grabbing your bag shoving your laptop in.
your sister mutters how you’re leaving and it’s not long until the call ends and your sister is turning in her spot on the couch. “you have a problem with criticism,” she starts.
“I don’t,” you mumble, slipping your shoes at the door. “I have a problem with everyone pushing me around when I literally said I needed time.”
“when have you ever said that?” she throws back.
your jaw ticks, “all the freaking time,” you grit. “I’ve been volunteering at the hospital every summer since high school, and did those programs too. it’s annoying and boring and I don’t know why he’s obsessed with me doing a new one every summer.”
“you never tell him though—“
“because I don’t have anything else!” you snap, mind getting tangled. why is it so hard for her to understand? out of everyone, she should be the most sympathetic. but unlike you, she doesn’t care if she upsets your parents. it’s one thing you hate about your older sister. she’ll do, quite literally, anything she wants. and if she doesn’t want to do it, she won’t.
jennie stifles a loud groan, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the tv. “go, ohmygod I’m so tired of your excuses.”
“it’s not—tch,” you don’t even bother. instead you twist the handle of your front door and leave.
you aren’t clueless. you’d definitely think that your self-aware — like many others do — but it’s difficult to be self-aware and prideful. you hate the idea of going to med school, you hate the idea of doing the same thing every day. if you pursue it, you definitely wouldn’t settle for anything other than a surgeon, that’s what dad is. but you don’t even want to be doctor in the first place! but you’re too scared to fully commit to something in the arts—
your mind pounds as you hole yourself in your the library for that entire thursday night. you couldn’t even bring yourself to fully process whether you smelled or not. instead, you took your final two exams friday morning and noon. desperately racking through your brain why you’re trying so hard for something you care so little for.
it wasn’t a subject you liked pondering. in fact, you actively try to avoid thinking about your future. it’s a blaring red topic that only brings you anxiety, insecurity, and many other negative feelings.
maybe that’s why you spent a majority of your day on campus, wandering from the student center, to the cafe, to the courtyard— all with the intention of avoiding your apartment until you sister leaves.
but you can only distract yourself for so long. your stomach churned with anxiety as you wasted the day away on the grass. your heart picking up as the inevitable responsibilities you’ve put off began to loom over your head like a dark cloud. one that had you curling inward on the grass. hand pressing over your heart as you rubbed it, hoping it’ll ease the tightness that continues to wind.
“fuck me,” you mutter, swallowing the lump in your throat. your eyes feel hot, tears collecting before your can control it. this sucks so bad.
the heat in your chest was a familiar sensation. one that left you sinking deeper and deeper. you’ve been trying so hard for the past three years…you’ve mentioned your scripts to your dad…to your mom….but you’re always met with the logistics. if you showed a little interest in something, they automatically assumed you were a pro….
you quietly try to swallow your self-loathing, wiping the few tears that managed to fall. it’s inevitable, you repeat, making your way to the bus when your phone goes off.
CALLER ID: DUMBASS
your breath hitches.
…is he going to apologize? end the deal? your stomach churns uncomfortably. fuck, your head feels like it’s gonna explode—
you pick up, “hello?”
—
“ngh fuckfuck—fuck m’ cumming—shiit—!!” sukuna growls in your ear, muscles glistening with sweat as his stomach flexes against your back. his muscles lock up after a few more sloppy thrusts. his biceps flex, arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you arched down on the bed as he slams his brutal length from behind. his other hand interlaced with yours on the bed, squeezing it as he buckles over.
“fhuckk—nghhh—“ his groans wavers on the precipice of sounding like moans, completely falling over the edge as he shoots his load into the rubber.
his hips roll viciously, grinding right against your sweet spot, earning a moan like whimper from you, until he’s finally stilled behind you.
his warm breath fans against your ear,
the morning weekend traffic sounds outside. the quiet calm that falls after a good fuck settles in the bedroom, along with your mixed pants.
your stomach fully relaxes on the mattress, body laying down. sex is fulfilling…you think. your mind feels all mushy, your limbs sore, your ass definitely more bruised—yet your stomach still manages to churn uncomfortably.
you swallow a thick lump, resting your cheek further into the mattress, eyes closed. why does it have to be summer already?
jennie is such a selfish— your eyes clench tighter, heart speeding up at the memory of yesterday, after getting back home from the bus….
“why do you always finish inside me?” your voice comes out before you can stop it, distracting yourself.
sukuna lazily blinks, pulling out, chest still pressed against your back as he tugs the condom off tying it. “what kinda question is that?” he mutters, cock pressing against your ass.
your lips part, unsure where it came from, but still managing a response. “i thought you hate condoms—“
“i do,” he quickly cuts, rolling beside you, chest rising and falling. “and I’ve cum on your ass n tits and face multiple times,” he tsks.
your lashes gently blink, palm sliding against the comforter. mind in quiet scrambles. his head turns, gaze falling to your palm now resting on his bicep. his eyes flick to your face, your lidded gaze fixated on your own fingers tracing his tattoos. there was no rush, not like the times before where he’d have practice, or you had to study. instead, there was an ambiguous tension of anxiety bubbling in you, not wanting to leave his side right now.
“hey,” your voice is much softer, as it always turns after he’s had his way with you. “what’re you gonna do this summer?”
sukuna shifts, biceps flexing as his other arm tucks behind his head getting comfortable beside you. “gonna go back to my gramps. have some shit i haveta deal with that I’ve been putting off,” he vaguely explains, eyes pointed at the ceiling. so far he hasn’t heard from kaori since he and toji paid her a visit a few weeks ago. then again, he hasn’t spoken to toji outside of practice, which strictly stuck to tactical and strategic moves on the pitch.
and let’s not forget the other headache of choso dodging his calls and texts. the most updates he’s received is when yuuji calls him from the house line, or texts him from gramps phone. and the most information given is yuuji’s two sentences about choso spending a lot of time with his band practicing for a show at the end of the school year. then he’ll go on a rant about some shit he dragged megumi and his new friend, nobara, into that landed them in in-school detention.
“do you live with your grandpa?” you question, curiosity always getting the better of you.
sukuna lets out a hum like grunt from the back of his throat, his hand scratches his sweaty stomach, biceps flexing under your palm as he does so.
“your brothers too?”
sukuna’s pupils flick to you from the corner of his eye. intimidating glare boring into you. “what’s with the interrogation?”
you sigh, closing your eyes, “was just wondering. am I crossing a line?”
his jaw ticks, you really have a way with words, and he doesn’t mean that in a positive way.
“yeah, my brothers live with him.” he could’ve easily snapped, but maybe it was the post-nut bliss swimming in his veins that allowed him to reply in a leveled tone.
your mind quietly begins to wonder…so him and brothers live with his grandpa…so where’s his dad? if he has a step mom, did his parents get a divorce? is his mom still in the picture? is his dad still in the picture? what’s the issue with his step-mom? he doesn’t seem to have a good relationship with her—
“what’re you gonna do this summer?” his words cut your wandering thoughts, focus snapping back to him with an uncomfortable twist settling over your shoulders. he doesn’t miss the way you inhale deeply.
“probably…” you mutter, trailing off as your palm slides off his bicep, “gonna work at the hospital…for my…yeah…”
his brow quirks in subtle confusion, “yeah?”
you sigh through your nose, glancing at the veins around his biceps…how can someone be so strong? how long did it take him to build all that muscle, do soccer players even need huge biceps?
“hey,” he snaps you back.
your lips part, blinking.
“your yeah?” he repeats, intrigued now that you’re acting weird.
“my dad,” you mutter, eyes closing. “shoko is also gonna stay over for a few weeks for the program, so like, that’s good,” you add quietly.
his brow remains up, confused why you’re answering so cryptically, ignoring how similar your tone is to his, “do you not like y’er dad or some shit?”
your eyes flick to him with shock. the silence was unconvincing before you finally respond. “it’s not like that,” you swallow a lump, tongue poking your lips.
“so you don’t like the program?”
you sigh louder, why can peace never find you? “I’ve been working up this program for a thousand years… I hate it.”
“then don’t do it,” his simple response immediately sets you off. he catches the quiet tsk from your mouth, his brows furrowing as his head turns to you. “sore subject much?”
you glare up at him.
he scoffs, settling himself again, “just tell me to fuck off then,” he tsks, “fucking keep my mouth shut next time.”
you frown at his reaction, “does everything trigger you?”
his face morphs into a deeper scowl, rolling his eyes. “maybe we should another fucking condition, no fucking talking after sex,” he growls.
your brow hits the ceiling, eyes wide, as you snap up, “what?!” your screech pierces his ears, making him flinch back. “what the hell! i don’t agree. if that’s a condition then no deal, man!”
sukuna shoots you a bewildered look, “you can’t keep your mouth shut after fucking?”
“no, what the hell,” you shoot, eyes wide as they bore down at him. “you can’t ban me from talking. that’s a dumb freaking condition,” you ramble. the fratboy scoffs lightly, eyes glancing between yours as you continue. “what happens if I break the condition huh? you’re gonna end the deal then, let’s just end it now, because I don’t agree, and I don’t approve of adding it. it’s dumb and literally makes no sense. god forbid I wanna say something once in awhile, it’s almost like I have brain.”
your rant turns into more of a dumb explanation of your disagreement, while sukuna gives you the most deadpan unamused look ever. it’s almost like this whole thing has turned into one big fat (amusing) inconvenience for him.
with some miracle, you finally notice him. your face twists, “what?”
the man slowly blinks, “I’m surprised you stopped talking for a minute.”
“hilarious,” you roll your eyes. “well I disagree. so your choice: no condition, or no deal.”
“is that an ultimatum?”
you don’t even glance at him, you’re sat up resting back on your arm, the ball really in his court, as you wait.
he scoffs, rolling his eyes. you’re a fucking handful. “no condition.”
“that’s what I thought,” your quick response earns a genuine snort from the man. your gaze flicks to him with amusement subtly dancing behind your eyes. “you’re acting like you don’t talk after sex.”
“not as much as you,” he throws back, eyes tracking over your face, then down to your breasts. you looked mouthwatering sitting up beside him like this. the afternoon sun shining throw the sheer curtains, highlighting every mole he’s definitely put his lips on. his mind felt surprisingly calm, even if the inevitable summer has finally arrived, at least he’s still in your presence.
“you’re not even listening to me. does a naked girl really distract you that much?”
“yeah,” he husks, leaning up to kiss the soft flesh of your breast, hand groping the other as he sucks with a low hum. your lips part in mild surprise, sigh escaping as he hallows his cheeks. his touch is firm, cupping the underside of your breast as he brings his lips to the other.
your lidded gaze drags over him, holding back your amusement seeing his flaccid cock twitch and easily grow hard again. unbelievable…
“ngh—shit that was good,” sukuna grunts, sweaty back hitting the mattress after another quick round. his satisfied smile whilst he catches his breath was amusing, especially when your lips part kissing his neck.
“you gonna be gone all summer?” you ask into his neck, arm loosely laying across his chest, his arm still tucked around your torso keeping you pressed to his side as you come down from your climax.
“dunno—I live an hour away, but I’m always comin into the city so,” he shrugs. you hum quietly, thinking. “you?”
your fingers quietly touch his ear lobes, missing the heated flush that crawls up his neck at the sensitive touch. “I live in the opposite side of the country…I’d rather stay here,” you murmur, eyes gently falling shut again, desperately trying to keep your brain mushy. “let’s just go back to sleep….”
his chest quietly rises, gentle breath slipping past his lips. he glances at you tucked by his side. and even if it was the afternoon, having your body heat and scent surround him, the gentle caresses of your fingers against his neck, and your warm breath fanning against his chest. well it all made it significantly easier for sleep to take over.
sukuna can’t know for sure how irresponsible it was to sleep for a majority of the day at your apartment. groggy as he woke up to take a piss then join you again. it truly felt like a recovery day from the stressful semester, and even more stressful week. but, before crashing beside you again, he’d managed to plug his dead phone into the charger.
that may have been a mistake. especially when he’s waking up to his phone pinging with notifications.
his arm stretches over, yawn racking through his body as he scrolls through his lockscreen, vision blurry with sleep, ignoring the insta tags and messages in the frat chat.
however he reads the message from toji.
call me when you’re free.
sukuna licks his lips, rubbing his eyes as he scrolls to his gramps.
when are you coming home???
gramps said today or tomorrow?!
I wanna show you the new haunted house nobara was telling me!!
HELLO
HELLO
HELLO
HELLLLLOOOOO
It’s Saturday why are you not answering???
sukuna sighs removing his other arm wrapped around you to reply to his brother. what time is it?
you shift quietly beside him.
sukuna continues flicking through his messages, brow furrowing. a banking alert flashes across his screen — choso’s account. incoming wire transfer completed.
“the fuck?” sukuna’s eyes snap open. the sender’s name making his blood run cold.
ACH CREDIT — $1,500.00
Sender: Kaori Kamo Holdings LLC
Posted to Choso’s Checking •••4877
what the fuck?!
sukuna immediately blows his lid, ripping the sheets off him as he storms out of the bedroom. his fingers already pressing the his home’s line, waiting for the ring until the phone suddenly picks up.
“RYO! ARE YOU ON YOUR WAY—“
“yuuji—“
“megumi is sleeping over, so i can totally show you the new video game too. megumi thinks he’s better than me, but I’ve been letting him win—“
“don’t lie,” megumi interrupts in the background.
sukuna tsks, shoving his shirt on as he pulls he buckles his jeans. “yuuji zip it for a sec!”
yuuji goes silent.
sukuna moves the phone to his ear, shoving his wallet in his pocket. “where was choso today?”
“all you ever ask me anymore is choso this, choso that,” the eleven year old grumbles, obviously sulking, no longer interested in talking.
“yuuji,” the older grits, frustration bubbling as theories start floating in his mind. why the fuck did you wire transfer choso money? is this some power play? she hasn’t contacted him in weeks, is she scaring him? rubbing it in his face that she can access choso through money?
yuuji huffs through the speaker, “he just woke up. he was sleeping all morning—cho!”
…
“CHOO!”
“WHAT?!” the loud bark of the middle child resounds through the speaker, quietly easing the knots that have already formed in sukuna’s shoulders.
“see,” yuuji shifts his attention back to sukuna.
sukuna slips his shoes on. not batting a single eye at the chaotic state he’s leaving your apartment. unfortunately for him, his mind is quickly consumed with thoughts of his brother, that he’s unable to process how he’s leaving things for the summer with you…
“was he home all of yesterday?”
“no. he went to school, duuuuhhhh—“
the vein snaps in sukuna’s neck.
“yuuji.”
sukuna audibly hears yuuji gulp on the other line, sulking once again. “he was in the garage with his band. then gramps came home tired so they went to ino’s place to practice.”
“ino?”
yuuji hums, “yeah. he’s choso’s friend from like middle school. he’s really really funny, and is part of cho’s band.”
a boy with a beanie loosely comes to mind, but sukuna remains focused, exiting your building. it really is almost two in the afternoon, streets quietly bustling with saturday lunch plans. “what time did he get back home?”
yuuji groans on the other line, “I don’t know maaan, jus’ ask him yourself. I’m bored.”
sukuna tsks, frustrations bubbling up again, “get him on the phone.”
“choso!” yuuji shouts, earning a loud scold from the middle child, and sukuna ripping the phone from his ear, “ryo wants to talk to you!”
“tell him he can suck. my. ass!” choso shouts.
another veins snaps in sukuna’s neck.
“he said you can suck his—“
“I heard him,” sukuna snaps. fucking teenagers. he inhales sharply, going down the subway. “I’m coming tomorrow morning.”
“WHAA?? I thought you said today,” yuuji whines.
sukuna runs a hand through his hair, completely unaware of the women that ogle him as he hops on the train. “I got busy this morning and I still need pack.”
“but—“
“I’ll talk to you later. call me if choso leaves the house,” sukuna hangs up.
the sound of choso’s movie plays in the background, while megumi eats beside yuuji on the counter. yuuji quietly stares his plate as the phone rings.
“you okay?” megumi looks over at him, french fry hanging from his mouth.
yuuji hangs the phone, biting his cheek as he sulks further in his seat. “he never asks how I’m doing anymore,” he mumbles.
sukuna likes to pretend he has control over everything. at least he tries his hardest to make everyone think that. however, it doesn’t always come out as control when he has a temper as short as his.
the moment the frat came into view he should’ve known.
his neck cracked as he walked up the trash littered front lawn. his shoulders rolled back, muscles popping from the long sleep as he stepped into the house, covered in a layer of spilled beer, red solo cups, and other trash. but his final straw was walking up the stairs, and turning just a fraction to spot his bedroom door ajar.
his blood runs cold.
he’d stormed out without warning last night, leaving everything behind. had he forgotten to lock his bedroom door before the party started.
his steps were loud and heavy, blood pumping in his ears as he crossed the hallway. if he finds a single fucking cum splatter, or condom on his bed, he’s punching another hole in the wall. unfortunately, sukuna now regrets thinking either of those results. instead he’s frozen at the doorframe, eyes blood red with anger as he sees a familiar set of long black hair laying on his bed.
the smell hits first, the stale perfume, sweat, alcohol, something sour that doesn’t belong to him. it crawls up his throat. his jaw locks so tight it aches.
yorozu is sprawled across his sheets like she owns them, tangled in his soccer jersey, bare thigh thrown over the blanket, panties riding up, and his pillow tucked under her arm. a naked pledge-recently turned member lays on the floor is facedown and dead to the world, breathing loud, one of sukuna’s hoodies twisted under his head like a trophy. for half a second the scene doesn’t register as real — just an insult assembled out of the worst possible outcome.
the the heat detonates.
the door SLAMS open the rest of the way, wood cracking against the wall so hard the frame shudders. the sound is violent enough to shake the posters. yorozu jolts upright with a gasp, hair wild, blinking into the light, and when she sees him, the color drains from her face.
sukuna doesn’t move at first. that’s what makes it worse.
he stands there breathing slow and huge through his nose, shoulders stretched tight, veins raised in his forearms, eyes burned dark and sharp enough to cut. his hands flex once. twice. like he’s deciding whether to grab someone or the furniture.
“what,” he says quietly, voice scraped raw, “is this.”
not loud. not shouting, but that low, controlled tone that means the explosion he’s chosen only delayed.
the pledge stirs at the sound and groans. wrong move. sukuna’s gaze snaps down to him with open contempt, then back to yorozu, who is doing anything but moving from her spot, eyes wide, and doing her best to subtly fix her hair. Sukuna doesn’t bat an eye. he’s already stepping forward, each footfall deliberate, the floorboards creaking under the weight of it. the air in the room feels thinner, preparing for the inevitable.
he takes one step toward the bed — and something on his desk catches in his peripheral vision.
the black envelope. split open and shifted from where he left it. the edge of the paper inside no longer tucked clean.
his stare cuts to it, then back to yorozu. the calculation is instant. she’s seen it.
that alone nearly snaps the leash on his temper.
he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t posture. he just moves fast enough that she barely has time to inhale before his hand closes around her bicep in an iron clamp. no hesitation, no gentleness, fingers digging in as he yanks her off the mattress in one brutal pull. the sheets rip loose with her.
she yelps, stumbling, she tries to twist toward him with that same cloying tone, already starting to explain, to perform.
“wait— sukuna, listen, I was just—”
his leg swings out without even looking and connects with the pledge’s ribs, not full force, but hard enough to knock the air out of him and roll him across the floor.
“up,” sukuna barks, voice lethal. “get the fuck out of my sight.”
the pledge scrambles, half-awake and absolutely terrifyingly mortified. he grabs at the scattered clothes and crawls more than standing as he bolts for the door.
yorozu tries to anchor herself, nails catching in sukuna’s wrist, leaning into him instead of away, still trying to make it intimate, like this is a lovers’ quarrel instead of a removal. he doesn’t even look at her face. he just drags her, across the room, past the desk, past the open envelope she absolutely touched, deaf to the whining pitch of his name.
“sukunaa, you’re hurting me,” she whines.
“good,” he says flatly, hauling her into the hallway.
“you’re being dramatic! I came to talk to you—and you weren’t even here!!— you’re mad I slept with someone else, right? you have no right to be jealous, who are those girl’s clothes in your room? do you have a girlfriend? why weren’t you at the party last night—you’re not even going to be here in the summer because you’re going to— ahh!” yorozu is slammed into the wall. her face pales as sukuna towers over her with bloodshot eyes. his red irises violently cut through her like she’s some bug on the bottom of his shoe.
“you psycho bitch. when is it going to get through your thick skull that I can’t stand you, huh? I spelled it out for you and ya still break into my room, go through my shit, and where my fucking clothes after getting fucked like a stupid whore—“
“you gave me the passcode to your room—“
“I don’t give the code to any slut I sleep with. and you’re a fucking sleazy whore that bribed that dipshit of a freshman to give it to you in exchange for sex. I’m not fucking dense like you,” he snaps coldly, unbothered by the tears that immediately well up on her waterline.
“you said you wanted to spend time with me outside of parties! but you just had sex with me and ghosted! you’re the disgusting one!” she shouts in his face, tears already breaking, waking the house. gojo steps in from the front door followed by geto. the two coming back from the gym, immediately overhearing the shouting at the top of the stairs.
“you hit on me!” he shouts, his eyes are blown blood red, his fist tightens around his jersey instead of her arm, squeezing the material as he crowds her space. “fucking does qualify for anything else. you sucked me off and I fucked you as a drunk courtesy,” anger seeps from his pores, getting angrier the more he speaks, his blood pumping viciously as she scoffs loud.
“doesn’t qualify for anything else — so what’s all the shit in your room. you keep your sluts panties and shirts as trophies like some sick pervert?”
“at least I can stand her outside of sex,” he snaps, unaware of how quick he defended his sex buddy. quickly imagining you this morning sucking his cock, stroking his hair, kissing his neck. “and when she fucking talks I don’t feel like stabbing my ears.”
“she she she—“ yorozu cracks, eyes wide and psychotic. “it’s that bitch from the party? utahime iori’s friend right? you know how much I hate her and you’re sleeping with her friend now—“
“you’re not listening to me!” sukuna losses it. his eyes are manic. as if the the universe is cursing him, yorozu throws her arms around his shoulder, getting closer to him. “what the fuck—“
“she’s not your girlfriend right? the guys were telling me she wasn’t—“ her face draws closer. obvious she’s attempting to seduce him.
sukuna tsks, loud and sharp. aggressively shoving her off him as he steps back, “fucking obsessed,” he spits with contempt. but her face contorts manically. desperate. it was easy reading as psycho, especially one as fake as an influencer like her:
“I’m going to spain too!” she interrupts, clawing at anything. however, his blood spikes, eyes flashing as an unknown expression crosses his face. if he wasn’t intimidating before, now he looked like he would snap her neck if she utters one more word, and that isn’t an exaggeration.
however, yorozu’s highly problematic obsession with the infamous short-tempered soccer captain is what makes her dangerous. her obsession started their second year when he was named captain of the division one team and easily ranked in the top ten then top six players in the nation. his reputation growing every season, as did her following and advertisements. it only made sense that they should be a couple.
but her courting was another level.
one that involved rumors. threats. any possible road that would lead to interacting with the fratboy. however, even after two full years, the man could not stand her. he couldn’t fall for her charms, her reputation, or her body—
“why can’t you give me a chance?! I’m the one stooping down to your level. some frat guy that fucks anything that walks— you let women and men fuck themselves on your disgusting cock — what haven’t you had sex with? you’re the pig here! you’re lucky I even talk to you!” her chest is heaving, eyes manic as her face scrunches glancing over his clothes. “and you smell like another fucking whore too.”
sukuna’s breathing is slow and heavy, shoulders tense as he rolls his neck back. he turns away, heading back to his room.
another vein snaps in yorozu’s neck.
“what the fuck?! I’m talki—“
her breath hitched. heart dropping to her ass. sukuna’s gaze snaps over his shoulder. muscles taunt under his shirt, fists clenching as his jaw locks.
the hallway warped around him.
yorozu has crossed the line before, but she’d never admit to be absolutely terrified of the man. but in this moment, she felt like a single misstep would end her life. literally.
she swallows a thick lump. cautious. unaware of the way her hands are trembling and goosebumps break out across her body, hairs standing up in the back of her neck.
then his voice cuts through. low, cold, violent.
“know your place before you speak about mine.”
her face pales, tears cascading in a mixture of fear and frustration.
“say one word about that envelope and I bury you with it. and take my fucking jersey off before I rip it off you. you look stupid pretending you belong in it,” sukuna spits.
yorozu’s face is red with humiliation. shivering as she fidgets with the hem of the oversized jersey. sukuna disappears into his room, returning with her dress and purse in hand, tossing them at her feet. yorozu blinks up at him as she watches him cross his arms over his broad chest, jaw locked as he leans against his doorframe with disinterest.
he doesn’t need to repeat himself.
yorozu can feel gojo and geto’s eyes on her back, standing at the top of the stairs, watching.
“can i change in the bathro—“
“strip.”
her heart skips a beat, face and neck red, hesitating for a second before she grabs the hem of the jersey and lifts it over her head. her bare breasts touch the warm air, nipples pink and perky. her cheeks flush, is he looking at me? he wanted to see my tits.
the jersey drops to the floor as she picks up her dress, making subtle show of bouncing her bare breasts…i got the surgery over winter break for him. it’s subtle and definitely healed by now, he notices how much bigger they are—
her heart drops.
red humiliation breaks across her body. glancing up through her lashes, she notices sukuna scrolling on his phone. not a sliver of his attention directed at her. a level of disinterest and inconvenience encompasses his entire body language. he doesn’t care for her.
her lips purse, anger and humiliation bubbling up as she quickly pulls her dress on, snatching her purse up as she whips around.
the athlete finally glances up. his eyes flick to the two men pressing their backs against the wall of the stairs allowing the sorority president to storm towards them and down the stairs.
“enjoy the show?” she snaps, anger out in the open.
gojo and geto shrug, “not much to see, sweetheart,” gojo shrugs.
she scoffs loudly, storming down the stairs, angry tears bubbling out. the front door slams behind her.
gojo and geto shift their attention. sukuna types on his phone, still leaning against the doorframe, unbothered. he briefly glances up, dead eyes flicking at the two before going back to his phone. “what?”
gojo pushes off the wall, headphones around his neck, as glances at his friend. “you left pretty angry last night.”
“and you let this psycho fuck some pledge in my room,” sukuna snaps, glaring up at the blue eyed man.
“i dunno how she got in man, we barely let any of the pearl girls in so how was i supposed to know she went to your room?” gojo defends. “and we don’t have any pledges, they’re members now.”
“not him,” sukuna cuts flatly, “revoke his membership.”
“that’s kinda fucked up, man. they went through hell this semester—“
sukuna shrugs, disinterested, “don’t care.”
geto’s eyes narrow, gaze flicking over him. “so you guys made up?”
sukuna’s gaze snaps up, alarmed, “fuck no. fucking psychotic bitch is what she is—“
“no not yorozu,” geto shakes his head, then utters your name. the two notice how the tatted man suddenly goes quiet. his gaze falling to his phone as he gives a casual shrug and nod. “so what now?”
sukuna’s brows furrow, glancing up at the raven haired man. “what d’you mean what?”
gojo’s now furrowing his brow as geto gives him a incredulous look which he reciprocates. geto bites the bullet, “well are you dating now?”
sukuna’s eyes blow wide. real shock written all over his face. then he scoffs, loud and untamed. “what?” he laughs, “we fuck. we made up so the deal’s still on.”
“what?!” gojo and geto shout in union.
sukuna’s brow lifts higher looking between the two. “you guys fucked in the head? I’m not saying this shit for the hundredth time. we’re not fucking dating—“
“you always sleep over there and she sleeps here?” gojo snaps, trying to find the missing piece here.
sukuna gives them a very derogatory so what? face. “we’ve all let girls sleep over—“
“not you,” geto jabs, irking the man as he glares at his friend. “plus that fight you guys had…”
“and we made up. she’s the one that wants the deal to keep going. and her libido is insane—“
“so you do wanna date her!” gojo jams a finger in his direction, laughing loudly. “oh shit! she reject you or something?—“
sukuna’s eyes roll to the back of his skull, “I didn’t say that, dipshit,” he snaps, “we agreed together. it’s fucking equal ass partnership. she’s just sensitive to drama, which whatever, it’s that psychos fault anyways,” sukuna quietly gets riled up at the memories of your argument. yorozu seeming to be the core of it all…albeit, you weren’t in a good mood when you came to the party either.…should he have asked about your meeting last week? his jaw clenches in thought.
“whatever, man,” geto shakes his head, walking towards his room as he peels his sweaty shirt off. “call coach, he’s been tryna get ya all morning.”
gojo waits for a moment, studying his friend before tipping his head to the side, “so are you not gonna tell us what you decided about the invitation?”
sukuna scowls, jaw tense.
“geto is still waiting, but I’m planning on taking him with me in a couple weeks to see the grounds there,” gojo isn’t really an idiot. he’s more calculating than people like to give him credit for, or it could be they don’t see it because of how charismatic he comes off as. that can’t be said for his two closest friends though. sukuna can see right through his bullshit, the man just wanted to pry more information out of him.
“stay out of my business, satoru,” sukuna spits coldly.
gojo scoffs, “you get so fucking defensive. is it so hard to think that your friends are happy for you. we all know how much you’ve been wanting this invitation after….” gojo realizes immediately that he shouldn’t have resurfaced that.
he lit the match on a open wound.
“you don’t know single fucking thing, so fuck off!”the slam echoes down the hallway like a gunshot, the frame shuddering under the force of it. a second later something else crashes inside —wood against wall, maybe his desk chair— hard enough that the vibration travels through the floorboards.
On the other side of the door, sukuna doesn’t move at first. his chest is heaving too fast, air cutting in sharp through his nose, like he just came off a sprint. his fingers flex once, twice, tendons standing out, like he’s deciding whether to break something else. the word after is still ringing in his skull. it’s not what came after, but what came before. the crash….the spiral… all of it chained together whether he likes it or not.
he drags both hands down his face slow and hard, like he can physically wipe the past. his blood pumps loudly, he hates how fast it got to him.
outside, gojo doesn’t knock again. he doesn’t joke or push it.
inside, sukuna stands in the wrecked silence of his own room. his is jaw locked, eyes burning. he’s not furious at gojo, not even at the words. but he’s bubbling with anger at the fact that one unfinished sentence still has the power to drag him straight back to his seventeen year old self.
…….
sukuna’s muscles are pulled tight. his high school soccer teammates laughed loudly around him. his best friend, kashimo, had his arm thrown over the seventeen year old, cackling loudly.
“man! if sukuna got that red card we all would’ve been so fucked!” kashimo barks, the entire team laughing as they sit outside the town’s hot spot, the corner-side diner and shops. other kids that watched the game were all packed around eating ice cream and fries, as the mood lit up the night sky.
sukuna and his team sat around the outdoor table chomping down burgers.
“what’s up with you? you’re so quiet after barking like a dog on the pitch,” one teammates points at sukuna. the rest glancing at the salmon haired kid. his face has been in prominent scowl since they left the game. his eyes are sharp, glaring at the idiot that looked at them. his teammates nervously laughs, as another pitches in.
“did you see that kid on the other team! that gojo was insane. no wonder they were hyping him up all fucking season, that match would not have been good if it wasn’t for him. he’s a fucking genius,” one kid gushes.
sukuna scoffs, rolling his eyes, “he lost. why’re you hyping him up?”
the team’s laughter dulls, glancing at kashimo, who seemed to be the only one that’s gotten close to the toxic player.
kashimo throws his arm over sukuna, head thrown back, “he’s right! he was talking all the way leading up to our match and losses in the end!”
sukuna’s deathly quiet. the table quickly gets louder as the team jokes and talks about their plans. they have another a few weeks until graduation, but a majority of the team is heading going to college, except for two…
“wait so when are you guys moving? I can’t believe two people from our team got into the under twenty club team— you have to get us vip tickets when you get to the World Cup!” a teammate shouts, as kashimo smiled widely.
“it’s a trail contract for now, but we’re definitely getting into the team—“
sukuna suddenly stands up. the team look at him with confused faces as he walks off.
kashimo is quick to brush off the team as he sprints after his friend, alone.
“woah,” he laughs, halting in a steady walk when he reaches the boy. “not even gonna call me?”sukuna gives his friend one glance. while the two disappear in a direction familiar to them, the team is left at the table watching and frowning.
“we’ve played with him for four fucking years and he’s still gonna treat us like his servants,” one scoffs, flipping a french fry to the ground. “he wouldn’t have gotten that invitation if we didn’t pass him the ball—“
“he’s a dick.” and the team just piles on all the horrible things sukuna has done and put them through. “he’s got suspended and put on probation a million times. how the fuck did that not deter any recruiters?”
“he’s a good player, that’s all that matters,” one tsks, rolling his eyes as he remembers sukuna being allowed to participate in a game during nationals even though he was suspended. the coach went behind the schools back to do it and was willing to take the heat for it after, all because whenever his star athletes, sukuna and kashimo, were on the field, then his name was always in people’s mouths too.
“I’m surprised he’s such a psycho when his dad is a fucking psychiatrist,” one adds, the others hum. “the call’s coming from inside the house.”
another senior scoffs again, “good things happen to bad people. this is just another example.” this line sours the mood as the entire team grows envious of the biggest and most important opportunity of a young player’s career, and it falling right in sukuna’s lap. how can someone be so lucky.
“isn’t his mom’s psycho too though?”
the team shrugs, murmurs spreading around. “dunno, he never talks about her, and I’ve only ever seen her a few times, and today was one of them.”
“yeah, he doesn’t even look like her, but damn,” one laughs, “my mom was telling me how she’d seen his mom in a few commercials a couple years ago. pretty sure she used to be an actress or something.”
“yeah, I’ve heard that before. but she looked drunk at the game today. I never noticed her, but she was acting like a crazy lady in the stands during halftime then stormed off,” one recalls, as others chime in about the rumors that surround sukuna’s home life. specifically his mom.
“my younger sister is in his brothers class in elementary school, so my mom’s seen his mom a few times. she just tells my sister to stay away from him and says his grandfather is more normal than the mom,” another adds.
it didn’t matter how long sukuna spent somewhere. he knew the rumors people would whisper behind his back. all of it made it easier for him to be an asshole (as if that was his excuse). at the end of the day, he’ll come out on top. he’s better than his step-mom, his school, his town— all of it is beneath him. including his shit dad—
sukuna laughs loudly, the alcohol burning a line down his throat as he exhales through his nose. the night is thick with heat, the kind that sticks to the skin. crickets grind in the grass beyond the field fence, and the stadium lights behind them have finally gone dark, leaving only the parking lot glow and the distant hum of traffic.
sukuna and kashimo had made their way back to the empty pitch after grabbing a four pack. sukuna’s sweater is half zipped, hood on while his jersey is damp with dried sweat underneath. his hair still messy from the match, from the argument he walked away from without looking back.
kashimo sits on the curb beside him, long legs stretched out, can dangling loose between his fingers. “you realize,” he says, smirking sideways, “half the grade is suddenly into soccer now that we got scouted. they all showed up tonight.”
“they’re into attention,” sukuna mutters. “they don’t even know the rules.”
kashimo snorts. “didn’t stop them from screaming your name.” he recalls, “there was one on the left. the girl that never talks in calc? she looked like she was gonna faint.”
sukuna scoffs, rolling his neck. “they jus’ like guys that win games. that’s it.” he takes another sip, already feeling tipsy from one can. “same ones wouldn’t look twice last year.”
“please,” kashimo says. “you fucking mess with them on purpose.”
sukuna doesn’t deny it, he just smirks into the can.
they drift into lazy, mean humor. ranking couples they know won’t last, poking fun at classmates who suddenly started dressing different to get asked to the prom, like that’ll grab the jocks attention. joking about how their history teacher definitely favors the guys that flirt with her more. it’s crude, unserious.
a warm breeze cuts through, carrying the smell lf distant fryer oil from the late-night diner and shops down the road. sukuna leans back on his hands, staring at the empty sky above the field lights, pulse still half in the game, half in the future everyone keeps talking about like it’s already decided. and it drags him right back to halftime.
his blood had still been roaring with adrenaline then. sweat dripping off his jaw, chest heaving, fingers curled tight around the water bottle as he chugged half of it in one go. the locker room door had been propped open to the tunnel for air, the roar of the crowd still rolling like thunder overhead. coach was barking adjustments. someone was laughing too loud. tape was being rewrapped around his ankle.
and once they came onto the pitch, again. warming up. the shouting cut through it. not cheering, not chanting—screaming. it was sharp, unhinged, and it sliced clean through the stadium noise.
his eyes snapped up instinctively, predator-fast, scanning toward the stands. players around him started turning toward the same disturbance. you could feel the ripple of everyone’s attention bending in one direction.
then there it was, three sections up, kaori was on her feet, face twisted, arm jabbing downward toward where his father sat beside her.
“you think this fixes anything?!” she screamed. her voice carried, horribly, and impressively across the crowd noise. “you fucking parading him around like some golden child won’t erase what he is! how many times do I have to tell you! are that incapable for caring for me of giving me your attention!!”
people around her recoiled. a couple stepped away.
his father looked mortified, reaching for her wrist, trying to lower her arm, trying to sit her down. calm voice. always calm.
“not here,” his dad said, sukuna could read it off his lips even from the pitch. “please.”
but she yanked free and got louder, eyes wild,
“begging me for what? to care about his game now? you’re pathetic. both of you are pathetic!”
a wave of murmurs spread through the rows. phones started lifting. teammates beside sukuna went quiet. one of them muttered, “yo… is that—”
sukuna’s stomach turned. it wasn’t embarrassment. no, it was something colder and sour. disgust curling up his throat.
his father didn’t fight back. didn’t snap. didn’t walk away. he just kept trying to soothe her. his hands open, posture small, like she was the one wronged, like she was the one owed any patience. that was the part sukuna couldn’t stand.
fuck the screaming and fuck the spectacle. he’s thrown a million fights publicly, he could careless about the optics. but what he couldn’t stomach was witnessing the submission. the way his dad absorbed the humiliation like it was his fucking job.
the whistle blew to call players back and the noise swelled again. the moment dissolved into the games chaos. but the image stayed burned behind sukuna’s eyes. her mouth twisted, his father apologizing for something he didn’t do and that rage followed him straight back onto the field, and after.
it was his day. his last game. his fucking win.
and still he brought her. still he told him he had to go find her after she vanished mid-match, like managing her public breakdown mattered more than watching his eldest son finish what could’ve been the best game of his life. he’d looked sukuna dead in the eye and picked the woman who humiliated him in public without hesitation, or shame.
“women are fucking psychos,” sukuna mutters, voice flat and bitter.
kashimo glances over, brow lifting as he watches sukuna crush the can in one hand, metal folding with a sharp crack before it hits the pavement. “isn’t that what makes them hot?” he smirks.
sukuna scoffs. there’s nothing hot about being degraded by a lunatic. his jaw tightens. or having two kids with her.
they start down the main street with loose steps and warm faces, alcohol humming low in their veins. the night air sticks to their skin, neon signs flickering across the storefront glass. a few people pass by them going the opposite direction, shouting congratulations when they notice their jerseys.
then the crowd appears. too dense and still. people are packed along the sidewalk ahead, phones raised, voices talking over each other. something is very wrong. red and blue lights wash out the buildings.
the alcohol fog clears in a snap.
a car is violently rammed into the side of truck at the intersection. the car’s front end crushed like paper, hood peeled back, windshield spiderwebbed and caved. one door is sheared half off. glass litters the street. the engine block is exposed and torn.
kashimo keeps talking for another half-second, then stops at the sight of the accident. his breath catches, mind toggling for a moment before, “yo…” he says, quieter now, trying to place what he’s seeing. “…isn’t that your dad’s car?”
he glances at his friend standing beside him—
sukuna is ghost-white. completely still. eyes wide, unblinking, like the world has dropped out from under him. his fingers hang slack at his sides, knuckles scraped, lips parted with no sound coming out.
he knew the second he saw the color. the dent in the side panel. the stupid dealership sticker still clinging to the bumper. he knew before the question was asked.
a/n: guys like don’t get mad at me ab the spelling/grammar, ik it’s ass so forgive me. I really did my best to post this chapter before ramadan, and I didn’t want to make it a waste so I really focused on plot. sorry you guys waited longer for this one tho, I’ve just been crazy swamped with work, I haven’t even seen the new episode of jjk or knight of the seven kingdoms 💔💔 anyways i really hope u guys liked the chapter <3
also this chapter was supposed to be titled summer break, but it changed since i cut my plans for the chp short bc i ran out of time. so now chapter 7 is now titled summer break — dividers: @/lariesographic
ever wondered what valentines day dates the jjk men/women would take shy!reader on? then look no further! below is a collection of beautifully curated work by a plethora of talented authors. || mdni
in which, they see you sitting in class and decide to finally ask you out.
chemistry class with FRATBOY!SUKUNA. he's had his eye on you ever since taking chemistry as a subject. he finally plucks up the courage to ask you out on a star gazing date for valentines, and you accept! (fluff ) ! by: @sixxels
film class with FRATBOY!TOJI. toji's been crushing on you for a while, you had such a deep appreciation for film and he really admired your outlook on things. he approaches you in class and asks if you'd be down to go watch one of his favourite movies together! (fluff, smut) by: @strawb3rryhachi
biology class with BESTFRIEND!GETO. he woo's you in bio with his effortless charm, asking if you'll humor him with a date on valentines day. you, of course, say yes, and the two of you have a sweet dorm room dinner together. (fluff, smut) 18+ ! by: @fricks
psychology class with NERD!CHOSO. choso, the hot nerd in your class, awkwardly asks his project partner if you'll accompany him on a date on valentines day. you accept, and he takes you out to a bookstore to get a better understanding of what makes you tick! (fluff) by: @cassideezlife
accounting class with NERD!NANAMI. nanami can't resist the cute nerdy girl in his finance class, and with valentines day coming up soon? now is a better time than ever to ask you out on a date. he takes you to the aquarium where he tells you about all the fish and you slowly come out of your little shell. (fluff) by: @whispers-of-aurora
philosophy class with MENTOR!HIGURUMA. he's around your age, and totally into you. he'd always been attracted to the shyer girls, and your intellect mixed with your self preservation intrigued him to no end. with valentines day around the corner, he asks you out and takes you to a bistro! (fluff) by: @stellarixe
art class with SKATERBOY!INO. ino's a little bit on an outsider on campus. so, he's a little nervous to ask such a sweet girl out in fear of seeming too forward or weird. but, valentines day is a good a time as any to try your luck, so the boy asks you out to the skate park. you agree, and it turns out the both of you had been secretly crushing on each other for ages! (fluff) by: @kixxtie
literature class with POPULAR!SHOKO. shoko had a thing for sweet things like you, so she suggests you come with her to a party that's happening on valentines to get to know you better. at said party, she finds you passed out on the balcony sofa and decides to cuddle up with you! (fluff) by: @snorlexi
music class with FRATBOY!GOJO. he'd been your childhood friend years ago. after growing distant and falling into the fratty lifestyle, gojo decides to bite the bullet and rekindle the flame that had been there all along, taking you on a date to your childhood treehouse on valentine's day. (angst to fluff) by: @rainlina
biology class with FRIENDSTOLOVERS!MEGUMI. there was always an unspoken kind of love between you and megumi, one he'd decided needed adressing with valentines day approaching. after all, he couldn't let you get snatched up by anyone else. he takes you out on a nice date and makes you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. (fluff) by: @kaekuna
history class with NERD!GOJO. you and him are one in the same, so it's safe to say you were both tremendously nervous when gojo decides to finally ask you out on valentines day. the awkward boy suggests you come over to his place to watch a movie and eat some pizza, you happily agree. (fluff, smut) 18+ ! by: @dollhousesinner
all works to be posted on the 13th of february AEST, right in time for valentine's day!
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students, with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ Fratboy!Sukuna FWB Series ]
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. angst. friends with benefits. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. SLOW BURN. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. violence. depression/anxiety. anger issues. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. happy ending. tags will be updated as series continues.
✮ ch 1 || how it all started ✮ ch 2 || miss me already?
✮ ch 3 || call me ✮ ch 4 || two worlds
✮ ch 5 || conditions ✮ ch 6 || tbd
✮ ch 7 || tbd ✮ ch 8 || tbd
✮ ch 9 || tbd ✮ ch 10 || tbd
✮ ch 11 || tbd ✮ ch 12 || tbd
✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line
✮ pt 2 — you’re desperate to prove this is just sex
✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time
✮ pt 4 — sukuna’s brothers visit unexpectedly
✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna
✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you
✮ pt 7 — halloween special: scare actor!sukuna
✮ pt 8 — sukuna’s noticeable bulge at the gym
✮ pt 9 — high stakes no nut november edition
✮ pt 10 — holiday special: grinch!kuna naughty or nice
✮ pt 11 — sukuna leaves his door open when you’re over
✮ pt 12 — tbd
✮ visuals ✮ bts lore ✮ playlist ♪ ✮ tiktok tag ✮
✮ pinterest board ✮ ask tag ✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮
[INFO] : the chapters are the actual series. it begins mid-spring semester JUNIOR year. the parts exist in the same story, but as stand alone oneshots and will not be mentioned in the chapters. they take place between sept-nov fall semester of their SENIOR year. [parts and chps can be read separately]
there is NO SERIES TAGLIST ✮ age should be visible on your blog — (art by @/to00fu, dividers by @/lariesographic )
kaledo-art
snowghoul
gummygunk
dededos
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
