Wormy

✧‎‧ ₊ ˚24˚₊ ‧✧ slow, inconsistent updates [i'm sorry]

[w0rm3y]

✧ ‎ ‧ ₊ ˚ ✧ [ kate | | 24 | | she/her ] ✧ ˚ ₊ ‧ ✧‎ ˚ ₊ ‧ ✧ jjk writer ‧ ₊ ‧ +18 blog ✧ ˚ ₊ MDNI ˚ ✧ ₊ ‧

✧ Sukuna is my favorite, so he gets a special list ✧ ‧ ‧ ˚ ₊ ‧ ₊ ˚ ✧ Sukuna Master List ✧ ˚ ‧ ˚ ₊ ‧ ₊

|| Misc. Drabbles || Temper- Multi-Character Dance Dads- Multi-Character Overboard- K. Nanami Bare Minimum- K. Nanami

[ AO3 || spotify || ko-fi || header art ] ©2025 all works made by wormy, please don't reproduce or use for AI stuff, that's super rude and really weird

[w0rm3y]

Shadow Puppets [ T. Zenin ]

── .✦ pairing || Best Friend! Toji x F! Reader

── .✦ summary || Before we had Toji 'I love my wife' Fushiguro, there was Toji 'I love my girlfriend' Zenin...

── .✦ overall content & warnings || MDNI. wc. 16k. a bit of angst-- Toji and Reader's childhood. mentions of child abuse. friends to lovers. roomates. Toji is sweet and awkward the whole time. so much fluff. first kiss. first love. sexual tension. Reader and Toji are inexperienced. sexual content. making out. dryhumping. vaginal fingering. period cramp relief (he's a good friend like that). handjob. mutual masturbation.

── .✦ author's note || omg, I've been sitting on this one for a while, debating if I should post or not. There was supposed to be a part two (it's called Shadow Puppets for a reason, i swear), but I haven't even started on it. Anyway, if sweet, awkward, inexperienced Toji isn't your thing, this one prob isn't for you. But if that's up your alley, I hope you enjoy <3

The Zenin Clan’s property sat on a large plot of land, spanning miles upon miles of rich farmland, with the closest city being an hour's commute to Kyoto– and that’s only if you were lucky enough to have a car to use. Public transportation never reached this area, and your family lacked the funds to own a car, which meant you were stuck in place, like the stagnant air you breathed in your tiny home, all while knowing how well the Zenin Clan prospered.

To say you were bitter was an understatement, but you knew better than to think that they had a life you truly wanted.

When you were younger, you would sneak away from your home, travel through a strip of trees and a thin creek to observe them in the back gardens of their estate. You always wondered why the women were forced to walk a few paces behind the men, and why everyone moved around with perfectly straight posture like they had a stick lodged up their asses. Your mother told you it’s how proper folk held themselves, but if being proper meant carrying around a holier-than-thou mentality, you weren’t interested. 

Aside from being unfamiliar with their status, you really had no reason to dislike them. They’d never done anything to you. In fact, you were sure they didn’t even know you were there, always perched on the wooden fence, watching them from between the cedar trees. The branches always kept you hidden, so as long as no one ventured this far away from the gardens, you knew you’d be safe.

And you got away with it for a while– for years, to be exact. It became your secret hobby, observing the notorious Zenins like they were animals in a zoo. And in some cases, they acted as such. Aggressive, possessive, always fighting for dominance with each other while forcing the women to maintain the home and watch after the kids. They bred like rabbits, you noticed. You thought that maybe they needed a new hobby of their own.

Your parents told you to keep your distance from them, though they had no idea that you liked to sneak off and get as close to the family as you could. If they had, you’d no doubt be punished for your idiocy. Even as a child, you knew your parents had a good reason for ordering you to stay away from the Zenins, but it wasn’t until you saw the true extent of how cruel they could be that you finally understood it for yourself.

Aggressiveness, fighting for dominance– those weren’t things the adult men reserved for use against each other. No, they involved the children, too, not only forcing them to fight for their entertainment, but retaliating against them as well. 

But why? What was the purpose? As an eight-year-old little girl, you couldn’t figure it out; it confused you. Your parents were strict at times, doling out punishments as they saw fit, but… never to this extent. 

The boy running through the garden looked terrified, glancing over his shoulder as the other chased him down. The one in front tried his best not to trample the flowers, yet the one behind him didn’t seem to give it another thought as he ruined them. Both of their yukatas were smudged with dirt, even ripped in a few places, too. It was evident by just their appearance alone that they had been doing this for a while, only now deciding to bring it outside.

While trying to mitigate flower damage, the boy ended up tripping, and just as quickly, he turned over to defend himself from the other, muttering, “Jinichi, I never-” A harsh kick to his ribs had the boy groaning and curling in on himself. “Whatever Ogi said isn’t true-”

“No?” Jinichi questioned in monotone and laid another kick to his ribs. “Hear that, Uncle? Toji says you’re a liar.”

A man who you hadn’t noticed stepped into view, spectating the debacle with a critical glance. The boy– Toji, as you learned– shook his head, raising his eyes to meet Ogi’s. “I didn’t say you’re a liar, but whoever told you that I-”

Before you could blink, the man moved so quickly, pressing to Toji’s mouth the end of a long cane he was toting around. The boy fell silent, eyeing the wooden stick with a bit of fear. 

“Are you calling my attendants liars, then?” Ogi never gave Toji the chance to answer before he handed off the cane to the other boy and said, “You may continue as we’ve practiced. I trust that you won’t kill him, but don’t be gentle either. The conniving runt isn’t worthy of your mercy after what he’s done to you.”

As the man stalked off in the opposite direction, heading back toward the house, you watched Jinichi reaffirm his grip on the cane with a determined look on his face. Toji used his arms to pull himself backward, but not far enough that the tip of the wooden rod couldn’t ram right into his face when Jinichi finally swung for him.

You gasped a quiet sound, heart thumping faster and faster in your chest when you heard his pained groan. He angled his face toward the other, scared but not backing down. Blood dripped from his temple, down his reddened, battered cheek to fall off his jaw– the sight of it made you feel sick. To the other side of Toji’s face, Jinichi gave him a matching wound, then stood back to assess his work.

He twirled the cane with a precise, practiced move, gruffly offering, “I’ll make it quick if you just confess.”

With the back of his hand, Toji wiped away the blood that had dripped into his eye, smearing it down his face. “We’ve been brothers for ten years now. How long do you think that lie is going to work on me?” 

His brother didn’t respond and instead swung the cane for his side, hitting his target with a loud cracking sound. The noise that left Toji was painful, calling to you like a cry for help, yet you were frozen. Never in your life had you witnessed such violence. You gripped the fence just a bit tighter, noticing then how shaky your hands were.

Toji rolled onto his stomach, curling into himself to protect his injury, but in doing so, he was risking his back to an attack. When Jinichi took the opportunity, whipping the cane across his spine, you had to bite your own tongue to stop from making a noise. The boy fell flat on his front with a cry of agony, sobbing, “I didn’t do it, Jinichi. I haven’t been in your room since the last time you caught me, I swear.”

“I don’t believe you,” his brother insisted, taking the cane to his back again, and then once more. A redness began seeping into the white yukata Toji wore. “Uncle Ogi wouldn’t lie-”

“Uncle Ogi,” Toji began, voice lifting a few decibels, “does whatever the hell he wants to keep himself entertained, and if you think for one second that doesn’t apply to you, then you’re an idiot.”

Even you knew that for a boy in Toji’s position, saying something like that wasn’t the right move. Unsurprisingly, it earned him three more lashes before his brother managed to snap the cane in half. While the boy writhed on the ground, Jinichi inspected the jagged end of the broken wood, contemplating something before tossing it away, only to bend down and grab Toji by the back of his yukata.

The boy groaned in pain, pleading for him to stop, and fighting against Jinichi with what strength he had left, which wasn’t much. He dragged him across the yard, ripping up what flowers hadn’t been destroyed during their chase, and dropped him on the edge of the koi pond. 

If you felt sick before just to see them fighting, it was nothing compared to the churning in your stomach to see his brother step over Toji’s body and stand above him. All too quickly, Jinichi guided Toji’s head to the water and held him under. He fought against his brother, digging his nails into his ankles to draw blood, yet Jinichi never stopped. 

If he kept going, Toji would surely die.

Somehow, some way, you defied your own fear in that moment, and in the next, your hands were pushing at Jinichi’s back with such a force that he toppled forward, into the pond. How you managed to cross the field so quickly, you weren’t sure– running was never your strong suit, but then again, you’d never tried while hopped up on so much adrenaline.

You lowered yourself beside Toji, careful not to touch his back or move him in a way that might cause him pain. Though, really, it wouldn’t have mattered after the beating he had taken. Deeming his shoulders safe, you grabbed him there, helping to bring him off the ground until he could balance himself on shaky arms.

Jinichi broke the surface of the pond while Toji worked on catching his breath, keeping his head cast down as the water droplets fell from soaked tufts of his black hair. The clear water took on a reddish hue as it rinsed the blood from his face. He spat out what collected in his mouth, heaving in deep breaths. 

“Didn’t go in your room,” he muttered, spitting out more bloody water. You assumed he thought you to be his brother, hence his rambling, but Jinichi was actually standing on the other side of the pond, staring at you with a bewildered expression. “Ogi is a liar. Not me.”

You reached down, placing your hand over the back of his own. “I believe you.” 

The heavy breathing stalled instantly, Toji going stalk still when he heard your voice– one that doesn’t sound like his brother’s at all. Clearly, you had startled him, but that was something you could apologize for later, after you dealt with the Zenin across the pond, who had yet to move. 

“You could have killed him, you know? What is the matter with you?” you snapped with enough bite that Jinichi flinched and took a step back. Then another, and another, until he fully turned around to run into the house. You watched him go with a disapproving shake of your head before giving your attention to the one who needed it the most. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond to you, but he did move, shakily pulling his hand out from beneath yours. When he pressed it into the dirt, he tried to push himself to stand. He stumbled around a bit, but managed it eventually. There were a few seconds when you both were unmoving, still reeling and trying to adjust to what just happened.

Then, Toji spoke. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You stood, too, taking a moment to dust off your yukata and smooth it out straight. “I know, but he was hurting you.”

He never once spared you a glance, keeping his eyes cast away as he moved on the same path as his brother. The most you received from the interaction was a few words that sounded a lot like a threat.

“You should leave before they hurt you, too.”

You took a few hurried steps toward him, latching onto his wrist to make him stop. “But what about you. Your back is-”

“I know you like to watch us,” he interjected, shaking off your touch. “You sit on the fence. You think no one can see you through the branches, but I can. So I know that you know what happens to girls here.”

Only then did you start to feel scared. After all, you had just been caught. If your parents found out, they’d be pissed, but worse was whatever the notorious Zenins might do to you for such an offense.

With nothing else to say, nothing for you to deny, you apologized. 

“I’m sorry.” It came out as a whisper, barely loud enough for you to even hear it. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

Sensing your fear, Toji turned around. He didn’t smile, his face seemingly stuck in a flat expression, but the look in his eyes changed. It was a subtle difference, but one that you noticed. Toji blinked a few times before saying, “I don’t mind. You’re not hurting anything. Besides, I know what it’s like to be somewhere you’re not supposed to be. I go into my brother’s room all the time.”

A quiet gasp passed your lips, causing a smile to form on Toji’s mouth. You could tell that with the amount of pain he was in, it was forced, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“As long as you don’t tell on me, I won’t tell on you. Okay?”

You swallowed thickly, giving a firm, singular nod. “Okay.”

Slowly, his smile fell. “You should go now.”

“But what about your back? It’s bad– you’re bleeding-”

“I’ll be fine. They’re nothing but a few scratches.”

But they weren’t just a few scratches; they were deep, seeping wounds that Toji felt throb in time with his heartbeat while he watched you walk away, making sure you made it back between the cedar trees before letting go of the pained whimpers he had been holding back. The boy stumbled into the home before being swept up by one of the attendants to have his injuries assessed. Just as the woman finished cleaning the wound, the shoji door slammed open to allow Ogi to enter.

He didn’t speak– neither of them did. It wasn’t needed, for they both knew what was in store for Toji. He wasn’t only in trouble for his fight with his brother, but also for letting you walk away. While he had talked with you, he felt their eyes stabbing into his back, waiting for Toji to make the right move, yet he didn’t. 

And for that, he would be punished along with you, though you weren’t aware of that yet.

“What did you do?” your mother hissed quietly, dragging you out of your room and into the living area, which you noticed was taken up by a few familiar faces– Zenins, to be exact. 

Jinichi sat between two men, stoic, just as you remembered him to be. The one on his left, Ogi, and the one on his right was someone you’d never seen before. Though with a mustache like that, you doubted that you’d ever be able to forget him. Naobito was his name, as you had soon learned just after your mother forced you into a deep, respectful bow.

The conversation didn’t come as a surprise to you; you had screwed up, got caught by this powerful family, and were now about to reap the consequences of your actions. However, the action they were accusing you of wasn’t trespassing, as you had assumed it to be. Instead, it was something they must’ve manifested in their minds. In other words, it was a lie.

“It seems there was an altercation a few days ago. Your child stepped onto our property and tried to drown our Jinichi,” Ogi spat, earning the room two horrified gasps from your parents.

Unable to help yourself, you were quick to argue, “I never did that!”

“You didn’t push him into the koi pond?” A tense silence fell over the room as you slumped back down, trying to come up with something to defend yourself, yet you had nothing. You had, in fact, pushed the boy into the pond, though you weren’t trying to drown him. 

You brokenly sputtered, “H-He was the one trying to drown someone. He held Toji’s head under the water-”

“Why would he do that to his own brother, hm? Jinichi, you love Toji-kun, don’t you?”

“Very much,” Jinichi replied, meeting your stare unyieldingly. “I would never try to hurt my own flesh and blood.”

“Then why did you whip his back with that cane? You made him bleed.”

It didn’t matter what you said; no one believed you, not even your parents. They brushed it off on you, spending too much time in the sun that day, confusing brotherly roughhousing for an attack, but you knew better.

Your parents promised them that a proper punishment would be doled out, and the Zenins warned them against letting you wander too far again, for they wouldn’t be so lenient next time. You were spanked for your crimes that night, sent to bed with a sore behind and an empty stomach, with a long list of chores for you to complete the next day.

You gave it a few months before curiosity got the better of you and led you back up the hill toward the gardens of the Zenin property, only this time, there was a tall privacy fence in place. You paced the perimeter of it, running your fingers along the sturdy, wooden grooves until boredom struck, and you retreated back to your own home.

Months continued, turning into years. 

Sometimes you’d venture up the hill just to have a walk through the woods when you needed to clear your mind. And sometimes you found yourself lingering a little too long near the fence, just listening to what went on on the other side. Maybe that was creepy, but as always, you were just curious. You lived so close to the Zenins– everyone in the area knew them, everyone talked about them, and you were lucky enough to be within walking distance of their home.

Besides, what else was there to do? Your little farmhouse could only keep you entertained for so long, and it had since run out of inspiration– about ten years ago, actually. Life in your childhood home was boring, stale, so… dull. So, yes, you indulged your curiosities every once in a while, prying into the lavish life of the Zenins, even if it would end up getting you in trouble.

Autumn had struck, the leaves were dying, but the sun reflecting off of them cast an orange hue in the air. All life had been stunted, it seemed, save for the green moss growing on the wooden fence. You ran your finger over it, picking off some sprigs and letting them sprinkle to the ground. The wind carried a chill, rustling the dead leaves, but the scent it brought was a nice one. You wondered if the city smelled just like this, and you found yourself hoping it did, for it would be the only thing you’d miss about your home if you ever moved away.

You ventured further away that day, straying too far from the normal path, which you would need to take to get home. The distance made you feel a little giddy, and the uncharted territory felt fun. You wondered why you hadn’t done it sooner, until you were reminded of why– staying on the normal path ensured a quick escape back to your home, should you ever get caught stalking the Zenin’s property again.

And, unfortunately, you had just been caught. You were sure of it the second you locked stares with familiar green eyes that were perched at the very top of the fence. While yours widened in shock, his remained the same– dull, almost lifeless, yet you knew he was seeing you because they followed your movements, unblinkingly.

You weren’t sure what to say as you looked up at him, wondering how he took on such a relaxed, nonchalant position while balancing on top of a tall privacy fence. It scaled taller than your own house and would definitely ensure a few broken bones if you were to fall, though he seemed to be at ease.

“You usually don’t come down this far,” he said, breaking the silence with a voice that was far deeper than you remembered. Granted, it’s been years, so you suppose it checks out.

“You were watching me?”

“Only sometimes,” he offered with a shrug, standing to his feet on top of the fence.

“Hey,” you gasped, “be careful!” 

But he was already moving, jumping from the top of the fence and catching himself on a thick branch of a tree. He let himself dangle there for a moment before dropping to his feet, landing with grace right in front of you. And as he stood to his full height, you were made aware that his voice was not the only thing that changed about him, but his body, too; most notably, a wicked scar on his upper lip. Part of you wanted to ask about its origins, but another part of you knew better than to pry for that information– it seemed personal.

“That’s really dangerous! A fall from that height could have broken a bone!”

“But I caught myself on the tree,” he argued playfully.

“And if you hadn’t?”

He glanced up at the fence, gauging its height before shrugging. “I’d reckon I’d still be fine. I’ve fallen from higher places.”

You held a chastising finger at him, muttering, “That’s bad. Very bad.”

“M’not a dog, so don’t scold me like one.” He rolled his eyes, though he didn’t sound too irritated. “Anyway, what are you still doing coming up here? Ain’t you tired of looking at the same old fence yet?”

“No. The area is nice and peaceful.”

“And it isn’t nice and peaceful on your own property?”

With a tilt of your head, you asked, “Why does it feel like you’re trying to make me go home?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you being this close to my home. If you were smart, you wouldn’t like being this close either. Especially, after what happened last time.”

“You still remember that?”

“‘Course, I do. And probably just as vividly as you do, too,” he scoffed. “You shouldn’t come this close anymore. You’re just gonna get in trouble again if you get caught.”

You placed a hand on your hip, entirely unthreatened. “Are you going to snitch on me?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh. “No. So long as you stay on your side of the creek from now on, I’ll have no reason to.”

“Hmm…” You dropped your hand from your hip to cross your arms. “Well, I’m not going unless you come with me. I’ll need an escort back.”

“An escort?”

“Yes,” you stated firmly. “As you know, I’ve never been this far from my usual path. Who knows if I’ll be able to find my way back, rather than wandering further onto your property?”

He chuckled, bewildered by your suggestion. “Need me to hold your hand, too?”

“Yes, actually.” You held it out for him to take, making him lose his grin. He eyed your extended palm, watching as you flexed it, wordlessly prompting him to grab it, yet he didn’t. “Come on. We don’t have all day, do we?”

His eyes slid up to meet yours. “But I was only kidding-”

“I wasn’t.”

Toji’s lips parted to spew some kind of excuse, but nothing came out, and his mouth closed, opening once more to bite out, “Fine.” 

Hesitantly, he grabbed your hand, taking it in a tight fist. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it did startle you a little, especially when he tugged you to follow him. With a huff, you wrangled him back and forced him to take your hand properly. 

“Never held someone’s hand before or something?” you asked, interlocking your fingers. You let your connected hands fall between you. “There we go. That’s how you do it.” 

When you looked back up, he was glaring down at your hands, confused more than angry. And when he started pulling you away again, you didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears were starting to turn red.

“You want to be friends?” Toji questioned you one night, brows furrowing deeply as he pointed to himself. “With me?”

You frowned, thinking back on the week you both had, where you’d meet every evening at the creek to hang out, wondering if you’d read the situation incorrectly– weren’t you two getting along? Or was he really just coming here out of some obligation? 

“Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you? You’re cool.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course, I do.”

His confusion was palpable as he questioned again, “Really?”

You scoffed and reached over to flick his cheek. He reeled away with a surprised hiss, rubbing the growing red mark. “You’re cool, Toji. How many times do I have to say it?”

His hand went still on his face as he stared at you, probably trying to figure out if you were being genuine or not. Finally, he dropped his hand. “Okay. Yeah, sure. We can be friends. If you want.”

When silence ensued, inching toward something awkward, you reached forward and poked his cheek. “Hey. Don’t be all weird now. That’s not cool at all.”

With a smushed cheek, he mumbled, “I’m not being weird.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.”

“Good.” You dropped your hand with a satisfied smile and relaxed back on the ground, closing your eyes and paying no mind to the crunch of the leaves below your head. “Lay down, too.”

You didn’t see him move, but you heard the leaves crunch as he relaxed beside you, just close enough to barely brush your shoulders together.

After a few minutes of quiet autumn breezes, he asked, “You really think I’m cool?”

“Toji, the fact that you keep asking is making it weird.”

In only a few months, the two of you had grown close. No longer were you two just friends; you were best friends. 

Even as the season chilled into winter, you two would still frequently meet at the creek, though when the snow started falling, your hangouts were often cut short due to the cold, and sometimes, you didn’t meet at all. 

But that was fine; you missed him, of course, but you knew that he didn’t want you trekking through the snow, just like you didn’t want him to do that either.

Toward the end of that year, a winter storm blew in. He told you the week before it happened that you shouldn’t meet at the creek. And you agreed with him, with the exception being the evening of his birthday, of course. He implored that it was fine, that you didn’t need to risk your health and safety for such a stupid reason, but you insisted, and finally, he relented. Toji promised to meet you out there on his birthday.

Yet, as you stood at the creek on the 31st of December, bundled up and shivering, you realized Toji might’ve forgotten– which was fine. It was his 16th birthday, after all, and he was probably busy with family obligations. 

Okay, it hurt a little bit that he forgot, but you tried your best not to let it get to you. You only wanted to give him the gift you made for him– granted, it was a silly gift, but you thought he’d appreciate it.

But it was fine. You could always give it to him another time.

You retreated back to your house, stopping just inside the door to peel your many layers off. You snuck past the living room, where your parents were bringing in the new year with their friends, playing card games, drinking, eating, laughing. You crossed your fingers, hoping they didn’t stop to ask why you were back so soon. As far as they were concerned, you were going out with a friend– a friend who was a girl you met at school, and not an infamous Zenin boy, who you were forbidden from talking to.

Once you made it to your room undetected, you changed into your pajamas, turned on quiet music, and started working on the project you left behind a few hours ago: a half-knitted sweater. Well, half was an overstatement; you’d barely finished one of the sleeves. Knitting wasn’t your strong suit, and it wasn’t all that fun, but it kept your hands busy.

Entirely immersed in your work, you were almost dead to the world, which is why when your bedroom window was abruptly pushed open, you screamed– 

Until you realized it was only Toji, with a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. Quickly, you slapped your hand over your mouth, and your other over your racing heart. You both stayed silent, listening for your parents' concerned questions, but the loud chatter of them with their friends let you know they hadn’t heard a thing. 

Only then did you speak, and it was to harshly whisper, “Jesus! You scared me!”

“I was throwing pebbles at your window for five minutes. Should’ve known you were… knitting?” He waved a confused hand at the mess of tan yarn in your lap. “Since when have you known how to do that?”

“Since two weeks ago, but that’s not important. What are you doing here?”

He drew his eyes away from your lap. “You didn’t wait for me at the creek.”

“I did. For two hours. Figured you were busy with your party or something, but it’s no big deal. You didn’t have to come all the way down here on your birthday. I could’ve given you your gift later.” You placed your yarn and knitting needles aside to slide off your bed and retrieve his present. 

When you stood in front of him, holding a small box behind your back, he eyed you suspiciously. “You got me a gift?”

“Of course, I got you a gift. It’s your birthday. Now, close your eyes.” He cocked a brow, hesitating until you snapped, “Close them. Now.”

And he did.

Once you placed the gift box in his hand, you added, “It’s nothing crazy. You might even think it’s stupid-”

“What? No, I– shut up, you didn’t-” Your brows furrowed, and he instantly backpedaled. “Sorry. Don’t shut up. That’s not– I just-”

“Open the damn box, Toji.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the lid away, placing it on your nightstand before reaching in to grab the gift. Between his two fingers, he held up the woven tendril of green strands, inspecting it with a frown. “A bracelet?”

You nodded and held up your own wrist, displaying the one you made for yourself. “A friendship bracelet.”

“Oh,” he murmured, still looking it over with curiosity. 

Your stomach started to churn with nerves, which led to you blurting out, “I told you it wasn’t anything crazy, I said it was stupid-” His eyes flicked to yours, widening just enough as you continued, “You’re probably used to the fancy stuff– gold and silver and diamonds, which is fine. I mean, your family is loaded, so that’s to be expected. Just give that back, I’m sorry-”

When you went to grab it, he jerked it out of your reach. “No way. It’s mine.”

“It’s stupid, Toji.”

“It’s not stupid at all. It’s cool.” You slowly dropped your hands. “I’ve never had a friendship bracelet before; no one has ever… you really made this for me?”

“Well, yeah. And for me, too.” His eyes slid to your wrist, and he took your hand, bringing you closer so he could look at yours, too. The contact brought warmth to your face. “You like them?”

“Mhm, I do. You did a good job on them.”

“Thank you.” The warmth on your face only got hotter, but the praise was nice. “Do you want me to help you put yours on? They can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

He lowered your hand back to your side and handed his bracelet to you, offering you his wrist next. After securing it, you glanced at his face, taking note of the small smile that was on his mouth as he ran his finger over the woven pattern.

“Thank you. For the gift.”

The slight nervousness in your chest faded, and you smiled, too. “You’re welcome! I was really hoping you’d like it! I wasn’t sure what else to get you. I know you probably have everything you could ever want already.”

“...almost everything.”

“Hm?” 

You tilted your head in question, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he glanced at the clock on your nightstand, then looked back at you. 

“My family is doing fireworks for the New Year.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement. “I love fireworks!”

“Wanna go watch them?” he asked. “The roof would be the perfect spot.”

“The roof? Like, the roof of my house?” When he nodded, you asked, “How are we supposed to get up there?” 

He slipped out of his coat, handing it to you, then moved toward the open window. As you slid your arms into the warmth, sufficiently wrapping yourself up in it, he inched outside, far enough that it worried you. 

“Hey, Toji, that’s not safe. You could fall-”

But your warning was too late. He somehow managed to pull himself off the windowsill using the gutter of your house, and then proceeded to defy gravity by vaulting onto the roof. Naturally, you were concerned and rushed over to the window, only when you peered up at the roof, he leaned over the edge and offered you his hand.

“You’re insane if you think I’m doing that.”

“Come on,” he tutted teasingly. “Don’t be a chicken.”

“You could drop me.”

“I swear, I won’t. And if I do, I’d be down there to catch you before you hit the ground.”

Your eyes widened, head shaking in disbelief. “What? You think you’re a superhero, or something?”

He snorted. “Definitely not, but I trust myself enough not to let you fall.”

“You can trust yourself all you want, but I’m the one who needs to trust you right now. And I definitely do not.”

He clicked his tongue. “You should.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you mean a lot to me, and I’d never suggest anything that would get you hurt.” You stared at his hand again, watching him flex it open. “Come on. You made me a friendship bracelet and everything. You have to trust me at least a little bit, right?”

“Toji-”

“And it’s my birthday, so you kinda have to do everything I say.”

Your lips pressed into a flat line as you eyed the distance from your window to the ground.

“Damn you.” 

With a groan, you grabbed his hand, squeezed your eyes shut, and braced for the ground, but the fall didn’t come; Toji lifted you onto the roof as if you weighed nothing, letting you stumble right onto his lap. You gripped the fabric on his shoulders, peering behind you and over the edge of the roof– such a long way down. 

“You’re very bold, you know that?”

He chuckled and pulled you off his lap, placing you beside him. “One day, you’ll finally trust me.”

“Maybe so, but that day is not today. You’ll have to prove yourself a few more times.” You moved closer to his side, noticing his thin, long-sleeved shirt. “Hey, aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine, really-” You slid back onto his lap, sitting back toward his knees so it wasn’t entirely inappropriate. “Really, I’m not-”

“Do you want to catch a cold? No, you don’t. So put your arms in here.” You opened the jacket, shivering as the cold air chilled you through your pajamas. “Hurry before all the warm air gets out.”

Sounding flustered, he muttered, “Where am I supposed to-” You grabbed his arms, led them inside the jacket, and wrapped them around your waist. “Oh.”

“Isn’t that better?”

You heard him swallow before humming, “Mhm.” 

He relaxed into your touch after a few moments and even pulled you forward to get closer. Despite your initial thoughts, straddling his lap this closely didn’t feel inappropriate at all. It felt comforting and safe, like you wouldn’t mind staying there for the rest of your life.

The fireworks started a little while later, lighting up the sky with bright flashes of vibrant colors. Both of you watched them in contented silence– it was nice. Really nice, even.

“You know, these are really good fireworks, but have you seen the ones they do in Osaka. For the summer festival?”

“No. Have you?”

You giggled, “No, but I saw them on TV last year. They’re super cool. We should go sometime.”

Through the sound of the distant explosions, you heard your parents and their friends count down from ten, and when the clock hit midnight, you didn’t hesitate to press your lips to Toji’s cheek. It wasn’t much, a gentle peck at most, but it was something that meant so much to both of you. 

Though at the time, neither of you was truly aware of the significance.

“Happy New Year,” you whispered when you pulled back to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

You weren’t sure if he said it back. 

If he did, you definitely couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing through your head.

Toji moved off the Zenin property a few months after he turned 18. He came to see you when he could, but after being cut off from his family’s funds, he was stuck working a few part-time jobs, barely giving him any time off. You pretended it didn’t bother you too badly, but the reality of it was that without Toji there to keep you company, the place felt small and lonely. You were going stir-crazy, and the subtle comments from your parents, suggesting that you look for a place, were grating on your nerves. 

Which is why when Toji came to pick you up the night of your 18th birthday, you slumped down in his car with a box of items. He eyed them suspiciously, gaze flicking to you and your pleading look. Hesitantly, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Mind if I stay with you for a few days?”

He blinked a few times, inhaling deeply to ask, “Um, like… starting tonight?” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth when you nodded. “I’ve only got one bedroom. And it’s not on the nice side of town either.”

“Toji, if you don’t want me to stay, just say so-”

“No! That’s not it,” he rushed to say, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s just that… it’s kind of a shitty place, and I’m messy, and you’re not gonna like it.”

Catching sight of his reddening cheeks, you offered a soft smile. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It can’t be that bad. Besides, it’s just for a few days. I trust you to take care of me for a few days. And since it’s a one-bedroom, I can take the couch.”

“Well, I don’t have a couch. When I left the estate, I only brought a few changes of clothes, and the new place didn’t come furnished.”

“So, where do you sleep?”

The answer to that question: the fucking floor.

“Toji,” you sighed, taking a look around the bare space that was somehow messy, despite being almost empty. “You couldn’t have grabbed a futon before you left the estate?”

“Was kinda in a rush,” he sheepishly said. “Figured I’d get whatever I needed when I had time, but… sort of short on that, too. Plus, s’not like anyone else lives with me anyway, so it doesn’t bother me.” When you cast him a cool look, he winced. “Well, it bothers me now that you’re here.”

You let your eyes slip around the room. A dirty old rug, a basket of unfolded clothes, a foldable, metal chair, a scratched-up side table he probably picked up for free on the side of the road, and a gun– wait- 

“What is that for?!” You pointed at the weapon, and Toji followed your direction until he, too, spotted it. Quickly, he grabbed the gun and slipped it behind him, tucking it into his waistband as if that would magically erase the last two seconds from your mind. “Toji.”

“What? It’s a bad part of town, I told you already.”

“So, you have a gun, to do what with? Shoot people?”

He blinked a few times, lips parting in surprise before he forced them closed, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “No. I would never.” He eyed your unimpressed glare, offering up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I swear.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, frown deepening before you dismissed it, muttering, “You better not. It would piss me off.” 

Toji let out a sigh of relief and moved aside, letting you venture deeper into the apartment. He let you explore, not that there was much of that to be done anyway. You found the bathroom– small and dingy– the kitchen was just the same. And when you were finished, you stood in front of him again, hand on your hip. 

“You were right. This place is shitty.” You gave the room another glance. “I’m not leaving until it’s at least somewhat suitable.”

“What?”

“What?” you countered, directing your stare at him. “You can’t live like this.”

“Yes, I can. I’ve been doing it for months now.”

“Well, I can’t live like this,” you argued, catching the way confusion flickered in his eyes. 

“You?”

“Me.” With a lazy wave of your hand, you explained, “My parents not-so-subtly suggested that I move out.”

Toji’s face slackened. “They kicked you out.”

“No, they suggested it was time for me to get my own place since I’m an adult now, so I thought I’d stay with you until I find an apartment. Just a few days.”

Toji cocked a brow. “You think you’re going to find a nice apartment to move into in just a few days?” When you nodded, he asked, “With what money?” With pursed lips, you shrugged, bringing him to sigh, “You’re not going to find a place in just a few days with no money.”

“Why not? You did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t? We’re in your apartment right now-” It clicked for you then. “This isn’t your apartment, is it?”

“It is.” He swallowed. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

He chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, not officially.”

“You’re squatting here,” you surmised, making him wince again.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but you couldn’t be mad at Toji for it. It wasn’t like he expected you to throw yourself and all of your problems into his lap. However, that didn’t mean you could continue letting him live this way, squatting or not.

You let out a huff and rubbed at your eyes, feeling tired already. “Okay. It’s fine. We can just… figure it out tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You need a place to live– a real place that is your own– and so do I, so we can start looking tomorrow. Or better yet, I can start looking tomorrow, since you’re keen on living in squalor. But once I find a place, you’re moving in with me. No more of… this.” You motioned to the space around you. “Now, is there anything else you wanna tell me? You’re technically homeless, are you jobless, too?”

“No. I… work.”

His tone was hesitant– less than trustworthy now that you’ve seen all of this.

“Is it ethical?” He didn’t answer, but he did look guilty, and you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay,” you sighed again. “Last question, do you have enough money to buy dinner? I’m broke.”

You moved into a new apartment only a few weeks after leaving your house. It wasn’t much better than the previous place, but at least it was in a better part of town.

You quickly found out that living with Toji wasn’t bad at all. You both respected each other’s privacy and kept communication open to voice concerns about your living arrangement. When you had friends over, you made sure to keep out of Toji’s way, and he kept out of yours. However, he never brought people over– you suspected he didn’t have any friends other than you, but there were a few times you overheard him talking on the phone to someone named Shiu.

The bills were split equally, with you handing over your share to Toji, so he could pay them off with the landlord. At first, your friend insisted that he could cover the expenses, but you wouldn’t let that slide– you couldn’t just live with him and not contribute; this was a shared space.

You each had your own bedroom, which was sort of a moot point, as Toji so rarely slept in his room, often opting to crash on the couch when he’d come back from work instead. He usually stayed out all night and slept all day, and while that concerned you, you didn’t bring up what his job consisted of again– ignorance is bliss, and all that.

Well, as it turns out, ignorance is bliss until you’re forced to see first-hand the very thing you’d been turning a blind eye to.

You had left work early that day, not feeling the greatest after having just gotten over a cold. You attempted to tough it out since your job wasn’t really grueling at all– the little antique shop didn’t get that much business, which left you sitting at the counter, bored out of your mind as you worked through your puzzle book. But after listening to you sniffle and groan one too many times, your boss sent you home with strict orders to rest up.

With a headache pounding behind your eyes and a grumbling stomach that was practically begging for something warm, you relented. Miso soup, a bit of knitting, and a nap sounded heavenly. But when you stepped into your apartment, you quickly realized that a relaxing afternoon was not in store for you. 

The first clue was the trail of red droplets staining your rug, leading you toward the kitchen. The next clue was the bloodied wrap and towels lying on the floor, and next, pieces from the first aid kit strewn across the counter, as if someone had messily searched for what they needed and left the mess behind.

You weren’t dumb. You knew what all of this was, what it meant, and who had caused it. And all of that was proved correct when you found him in the bathroom, standing and leaning back against the sink, shirt pulled up his torso and held secure in his mouth, as he sewed up the large, seeping gash in his abdomen. 

Time froze for a moment.

You stared at him; he stared back. Both of you were equally as shocked as the other.

And then he opened his mouth, his shirt falling to cover the wound as he broke the silence to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“I– um…” You continued to stare at his torso, even if you couldn’t see the marred skin anymore. “Came home early. Wasn’t feeling well.” You raised a shaky hand, pointing at his abdomen. “What happened?”

“Just had a little accident. Nothing to worry about.”

Your bottom lip quivered from the stress. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Not lying, it’s really nothing.” The guilt on his face only worsened. “Please, don’t cry. I’m fine-”

“You’re bleeding.” 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I swear-”

Neither of you had realized you crossed the bathroom until you stood right in front of him, holding a tight hand over his mouth to make him shut up. His eyes widened, but he didn’t try to push you away. With your other hand, you pulled his shirt back up to inspect the wound.

“Wh-Who did that to you?” You removed your hand so he could answer, yet the most you got was a choked-back groan. “Answer me-”

“I don’t know. You think he gave me his name before he shoved a knife in my side?”

You felt tears roll down your cheeks when you blinked, which Toji wiped away with his knuckle, muttering, “It’s okay. Really.”

“It’s not-”

“It is,” he insisted, pulling his shirt out of your hand to cover the wound again. “Trust me. Please.”

Doing so was a mistake– you knew that. 

But you couldn’t help it. You did trust him.

So, when he asked you to forget about it, when he told you that it wouldn’t happen again, you believed him.

You trusted his promise to you, knowing that it was empty.

You knew that it would happen again, but you also knew that when the next time came around, you wouldn’t be there to see it. 

Toji would make sure of it.

“How’d you get that scar on your lip?” you asked him one evening after years of wanting to know its backstory. Originally, you thought it might be too personal, but with a few drinks in your system, the question came out easily. 

Thankfully, Toji didn’t seem to mind it either. He nursed his nth beer bottle in one hand, the other resting behind you on the back of the couch as you both watched some stupid TV show you’d heard about from your friends. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he answered, “I tripped and fell. Smacked my face off the wall.”

“Mm. Seems pretty tame compared to the other scars on your body. I thought that one would be more… significant, you know?”

“Significant…” he mused, leaning forward to set his bottle on the coffee table, dragging back with him a new one. “I think you mean dramatic.”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

As he twisted off the bottle cap, he chuckled. “Okay. What if I said that my family threw me into this special room? And that this room was filled with things that want to hurt you, but they’re invisible.”

“Like ghosts?”

“Mhm, like ghosts. And what if I said that these ghosts are how I got this scar? Would that be significant and dramatic enough for you?”

Your nose crinkled. “That would be too much, actually. Ghosts aren’t real. And your family sucks, but… they’re not that cruel, are they?”

He snorted. “You tell me. You stalked our backyard for years.”

“Yeah, but I never saw anyone get dragged into any haunted dungeon.”

“Right,” he mused, bringing the bottle to his lips. “A haunted dungeon isn’t very realistic. The walking into a wall thing makes way more sense.”

You squinted at him as if that would help decipher what he was trying to say. “You’re being weird tonight.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You leaned into his side, soaking up the warmth. 

Minutes later, his arm inched off the back of the couch to rest over your shoulders. When his arm dipped lower behind you, his hand splayed against your waist, you tried to pretend like it didn’t bother you much.

But the reality of it left you with heated cheeks and a heartbeat that was too fast to be normal.

It was only in this moment that you realized the feelings you harbored for your friend strayed far past platonic.

The revelation of your new feelings was nearly debilitating. No longer could you talk to Toji for longer than five minutes without stuttering over your words or blushing like an idiot. If he noticed, he never pointed it out– thankfully, and in turn, you never pointed out when he was flustered either, which happened more often than you’d think. It used to be over the little things, like a simple hug, an accidental touch of hands, or when he’d let you borrow his jacket because you were too stubborn to grab your own, even after he told you it was cold outside. 

But things escalated, much like they always do.

You were running late that morning. All you needed was your work outfit, which you’d forgotten to grab from the dryer before taking your shower because again, you were running late, leaving you in a frazzled state. You did remember your underwear, though– lucky you.

Your washer and dryer unit occupied a small alcove in the hallway beside the bathroom. Depending on where you stood in the kitchen, you would be able to see down the same hallway. 

With this knowledge in mind, you made sure to call Toji’s name before you stepped out of the bathroom, just to make sure he had enough time to cover his eyes. 

When you received no response from him, you hurriedly rushed to the dryer, holding an arm to your bare chest for coverage. Bent at the waist, you filtered through the mess of dried clothes to find your outfit, freezing in place when you heard his sharp intake of air. You stood straight just in time to see him pulling his earbuds from his ears and turning around. 

“Jesus,” Toji breathed, “Warn a guy next time.”

“I called your name.”

“Apparently not fucking loud enough since I just had to see your tits.”

“Oh, like that’s such a bother,” you scoffed, bending over to look for your clothes again.

“It is a bother. It’s going to bother me for the rest of the day now. Maybe even the rest of the week.”

“I had them covered with my hand!”

“Barely!”

You snorted, mumbling, “God, you act as if you’ve never seen boobs before.”

“I haven’t. Not in person anyway, and definitely not yours-”

“Wait.”

“What?”

You slammed the dryer door shut, clothing in your arms, and stood straight to face him, though he couldn’t see you with his back turned to you. “You’ve never seen boobs?”

“Not in person,” he reiterated tersely. “I mean, I used to have this magazine-”

“Stop. I don’t need to know that.”

“Okay, so…”

“Are you a virgin then?”

Redness crept up the back of his neck as he defensively said, “So are you.”

“How do you know?”

“Maybe because we’re from the middle of bumfuck nowhere, so unless you managed to screw one of my cousins without me knowing about it, you’re still a virgin, too.”

“I could’ve brought someone over here, you know? It’s not like you’re here during the night that much anyway. How would you have known?”

Toji’s shoulders tensed.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like arguing anymore. It was stupid to begin with. Now, you were just poking the bear and wasting time when you’re already late for work.

Lowly, he asked, “Have you had someone over?”

“No. Not for that.”

“Good. Don’t. Ever.”

Your frowned. “Why not?”

“Because this is our apartment, meaning it’s my place just as much as it’s yours. How would you like it if I brought over a woman you didn’t know, and I didn’t run it past you first?”

“I don’t know.” 

You hated the idea, actually. Loathed it, even.

“Okay, well, I do know that if I catch some man in here, it’s going to piss me off. So, just… just tell me, or something. I’ll make sure I’m not here, and you can let me know when he’s gone.”

“Or we could just-” 

You cut yourself off before that word vomit could spew from your mouth. But the beginning part was already out there. Toji heard you.

“We could just, what?”

Fuck. We could just fuck. Each other. Together.

But you were smart enough to know why saying that would be idiotic.

“Nothing! I didn’t mean to say that! And I’m late for work! So, I have to finish getting ready!”

You trapped yourself in the bathroom after that, making sure that you heard Toji’s bedroom door shut before even thinking of leaving for work for the day. You had wasted an extra half hour in the bathroom, so by the time you made it to work, almost an hour late, to say your boss was less than enthused would be an understatement.

The realization of your crush on Toji, paired with the acknowledgement of just how attractive this man was, was a lethal combination for your sanity. You tried your best not to let it bother you, and for the most part, you had succeeded. But there were moments where you couldn’t help it– you would end up flustered beyond the normal amount, and having him watch you stutter your way through some half-assed explanation as to why you were suddenly going shy on him only made it worse. 

Thankfully, he never picked on you for it– not excessively, at least. Most of the time, it was a subtle acknowledgement that he noticed you acting timid, and then he’d allow you to escape from the situation with the small bits of your dignity that you had left– a simple kindness, really. It was the least he could do, or so you thought. 

However, there were times when your friend wasn’t feeling very merciful at all.

You had been sitting on the couch, knitting away with a blank mind, when you heard him call out your name from the hallway.

“Yeah?” you responded, not even looking up from your knitting needles.

“Remember that shirt I let you borrow last week?”

 One of his work shirts that you had taken to sleep in that night. You were feeling bloated, and your tight pajamas weren’t the least bit comfortable.

“Uh huh.”

“And do you remember when I said not to dry it?”

Your hands went still as you thought back on the interaction you’d had with him a few days ago– did he tell you not to dry the shirt?

“Uhh-” You looked up when a shadow fell over you, wide eyes settling on Toji’s exposed abdomen, which the shirt– the very tight, very small shirt– didn’t cover. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he retorted. “You ruined it.”

“Ruined? I wouldn’t say that.” When you finally managed to drag your eyes up to his face, you were met with an amused look. It was only then that you realized your mistake– openly checking out your best friend. It brought a scorching heat to your face. “That’s not– I didn’t– what I meant– I just-”

No mercy wasn’t granted then. 

Toji let you stutter it out, watching you nearly combust in front of him with a grin on his face.

You just barely managed to collect yourself enough to choke out, “It doesn’t look bad. Really. It’s… fine.”

“Just fine?” he pried for more, knowing you were too embarrassed to realize it for yourself. 

“It’s good. Really good. Great, even.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Yeah.” You swallowed thickly and forced your shaky hands to start knitting again. 

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe I should just wear it to work then. Since it’s not as bad as I think it is.”

“Oh, you should. You definitely should.”

You pretended you didn’t hear his quiet laughter as he grabbed his zip-up hoodie from the front door. He slid on his shoes and grabbed his keys.

“I’ll be back later than usual. Probably after midnight.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

“You know who to call if you need me, right?”

“For sure.” 

You heard his laughter one last time before he stepped out the door, closing it behind him. Once you were alone, you dropped your knitting needles and covered your face, letting the mortification creep in while muttering, “Oh, my god,” into your palms.

You weren’t the only one getting flustered in that apartment. Toji had his fair share of moments, too, and you ate each one up like it was candy. 

Like the time you were cutting his hair and flashed your chest on accident.

Or the time when you were bent over in the kitchen, cleaning out one of the lower cabinets, and he happened to walk in behind you.

Or when the electricity in your apartment had cut out during winter, and you asked for cuddles to keep yourself warm.

All of these moments were innocent– mostly innocent, at least.

The only time it wasn’t completely innocent was the day you asked to kiss him.

It was out of the blue, a spur-of-the-moment type of deal– you were feeling impulsive and curious, and Toji was just there, oblivious to the thoughts going through your head as you approached him in the kitchen. 

With a light tap on his shoulder, he briefly glanced back at you and smiled before returning to the task of restocking the first-aid kit– something that happened quite frequently. 

“Need something?”

“Possibly.”

He hummed, “Well, if it’s a plain, boring bandage you’re looking for, I hate to disappoint.” He reached into the drug-store bag on the counter, pulling out a box of themed bandages. “They only had pink princess ones, so-”

“I don’t need a bandage.”

“Something from the cabinet then? Just gimme a second, and I’ll move out of your way-”

“Toji.”

Hearing your tone, he paused and then set down the first-aid items to turn and face you. When you stayed quiet, his brows raised in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing’s wrong. Not yet, anyway. I suppose it depends on how you take this.” Your short explanation seemed to only concern him more. “I just… well, I wanted to talk to you about something. And if you’re not okay with it, that’s completely fine. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, or upset, or– or… ruin our friendship– I don’t want you to hate me, or think I’m weird, or crazy-”

“Did you do something bad?” he interjected, placing a hand on your shoulder. “If you did, it’s okay. Just tell me what happened, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Huh?”

“You look guilty. If you killed someone, just let me know where the body is, and I-”

“Toji, I– no! That’s not-!”

“Then you need someone taken care of? All I need to know is what they look like-”

“No! No one is dead, no one is dying!”

He raised his voice just a little to ask, “Then why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?!”

“Like you need me to do something for you. Whatever it is, I can get it done. You don’t have to be afraid to ask. I won’t be mad at you-”

“A kiss! I was going to ask for a kiss!”

There. It was out in the open for the universe to mock you for. 

You wanted to kiss Toji. 

And now he knew that you wanted to kiss him, too.

The silence that ensued was terrifying.

The bewildered eye contact might’ve been worse.

“I– um…” He laughed nervously. “What?”

You took it back. The silence and eye contact were the least of your worries.

“A kiss, Toji. You kiss me.” You pointed between yourself and him. “Unless you don’t want to-”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say much of anything, actually.” While you stood there, watching such a redness bloom over his cheeks, you sighed, “I’m only curious. I’m twenty and have no idea what it’s like.” 

“And you think I do?”

“I– no? I guess not. Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything. If you’re saving it for someone else, that’s fine. Just say so. Or if you don’t want to do that with me, I understand. I just thought that since we’re friends, it would be easier to do it together. More comfortable and stuff.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “No, that uh– that makes sense. We should… do that.”

You smiled, trying your best to be as comforting as possible, but really, you were freaking out on the inside. You’re sure Toji was feeling the same, though he was less subtle about it than you were. 

“Okay. Go on,” you prompted.

“Go on and do what?”

Your face slackened. “Kiss me, stupid.”

“S-Sure.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you heard him stutter– if he’s ever even done it before. You also pretended not to notice him not-so-subtly wipe his palms off on his pants. 

To help, you took the initiative of wrapping your arms around his neck to reel him in closer, letting him almost stumble into you and place his hands on your waist to steady himself. You felt the tips of his fingers sink into your skin, and you swore you could see his heartbeat in his chest.

“You seem nervous,” you lilted, hoping to lighten the mood, but it didn’t. Not for Toji, anyway; he was still just staring at your mouth.

And then, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You snorted, “Really? I didn’t know.”

His green eyes flicked to yours. “It’s gonna be bad.”

You shrugged. “Probably, but I’m not expecting fireworks or anything, okay? If it’s the worst thing ever, then who cares? It’s not like there’s anyone here besides us, and I’m not going to judge you for a bad kiss. But if it’ll make you feel better, I can close my eyes.”

He nodded, entirely serious. “Okay. Do that.”

“I was joking, Toji.”

“I wasn’t.”

You giggled, “Fine. I’ll close them.”

You felt him lean in closer. You felt the lightest bit of breath brush over your face. You felt his hands tighten on your waist. 

You felt his lips against your cheek.

With a small grin, unable to help yourself, you mumbled, “You needed me to close my eyes for that?”

And then you felt his lips press against your own.

It took you a moment to realize it for yourself, to process that this was it, you were kissing him. And once you came to terms with it, you kissed him back. Soft and slow, timid almost, like you were both too shy to push for something more. 

But that was okay; this pace was perfect. As a matter of fact, the whole thing was perfect.

When you parted from one another, you forced your eyes to open and were lucky enough to witness the deepest blush known to man covering Toji’s face. 

“Oh.” You stifled your laugh behind your hand. “Your cheeks are so red.”

“Shut up,” he groaned, tugging you forward with the hands on your hips, only to press his face into your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you cooed condescendingly. “No need to be embarrassed.”

“You’re the worst.”

You sighed in content, leaning into him for a sloppy sort of hug. “It was a good kiss, though.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “I liked it a lot.”

“Me, too,” he said quietly, voice muffled in your shoulder. Just barely, he leaned back to ask, “Can I– can we, um… do it again?”

You wrote it off as practice; it’s what kept your friendship intact, to make sure that the kisses, while intimate, would never damage what you already had together. And after a few months, you were certain your plan was flawless. A few pecks here and there– in the morning, before bed, random ones throughout the day if you were feeling confident enough; it was nothing crazy, but it was nice.

The kisses also seemed to be a gateway to be more… touchy-feely. Of course, the touches weren’t inappropriate in the slightest. Cuddling on the couch, leaning into his side in the checkout line at the supermarket, holding his hand as you walked around the block, it was all so innocent. 

The kisses couldn’t change the fact that he was still your best friend.

They could, however, make you question why you two were still only friends after everything you’ve done together, but you didn’t like to think about that part very often. 

You were sprawled out on the couch, legs resting over his thighs as you flipped through the channels. You’d been at it for ten minutes, and you’re sure Toji was getting tired of your indecisiveness. If you were being honest, so were you. With a sigh, you swung your legs off his lap and tossed the remote down beside him. 

“You pick something while I’m gone.”

He clicked his tongue and grabbed your arms as you passed him. “Where are you going?”

“I gotta pee. Let go.”

And he did let go.

Right after tugging you back down onto the couch just to be annoying.

“Ass,” you cursed without any real heat, getting up once more and only making it as far as you did last time before he pulled you back again. This time, he brought you down for a kiss, a quick one.

“I can pick whatever I want?” he asked so nicely, sliding his grip on your arm down to your hand. 

It caught you off guard– the sweetness of it.

“Huh?”

“On TV,” he amended, moving your hand, pressing the tips of his fingers to yours. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.”

“Really?”

He traced the tip of his finger up the inside of your wrist while waiting for your answer. 

“Really.”

The look in his eyes when you said that turned into something smug, knocking you out of your stupor.

You realized your mistake then.

“Wait, no. It’s Saturday.”

“It is Saturday.” Toji grinned and let go of you completely to grab the remote. “Which means the horse races are on all day-”

“No!” you protested, launching over him to grab the remote, forgetting entirely about your full bladder. “Horse racing is sooo boring!”

“Come on now, it’s so cool.”

You writhed in his lap, fighting for the remote that was always just out of reach. “You don’t even bet on them! What’s the point?!”

“I bet on them. Mentally.”

“Oh, my god, you’re twenty-one. Stop acting like such an old man-” 

His movements were always too fast for you. There was no way for you to get the remote out of his hands unless you caught him off guard, which you had learned wasn’t that difficult.

With a hand on his jaw, you angled his face enough to lean forward and kiss him. You didn’t wait to slip your tongue into his mouth the first chance you had, knowing that would only throw him off even more. And your plan worked well. 

Seconds after you kissed him, he was kissing you back, pulling on your waist to situate you over his lap. You let him think you had no other intentions with the kiss, allowing him to slide his hand to your hip and squeeze just enough to feel it. Though he still held onto that remote with his other hand. 

Feeling a bit daring, and maybe curious, too, you rolled your hips forward against his slowly. His mouth went just the slightest bit slack on yours, and he groaned when you moved against him again.

From beside you, you heard the remote hit the couch cushion, followed by his hand settling on your hip, sliding down to guide you to move again. You felt him getting hard between your legs– this was nothing new for you. There were many times when you were simply kissing that you accidentally brushed against it.

This, however, was intentional.

You let him do it again and again until you were sure he was so caught up in you that he forgot about the horse races completely. Once you were certain he was distracted, you pulled back, grabbed the remote, and slid off his lap to stand in front of him.

“No,” he whined, leaning his head back and covering his face with both hands. “That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair. Especially when your best friend was going to subject you to horse racing torture.”

“It’s interesting! And you promised!”

You clicked your tongue and tossed the remote into his lap. “Fine. But my favorite show comes on at two, and we’re watching it. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. 

You gave the top of his head a few pats.

“Good boy.”

As you made your way to the bathroom, you didn’t notice the way his face warmed at those two words.

The kissing was good. It was great, even.

But it wasn’t satiating that urge, which left you outrageously horny.

It usually wasn’t an issue. Toji wasn’t there most nights, so you were free to do whatever you needed to without the fear of being overheard.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Toji’s job– whatever that was– didn’t require him at the moment, which meant he'd been there for three days and three nights, giving you no time at all to get the job done yourself. And to top it off, PMS was kicking your ass with the cramps, so there were no orgasms to help with that, nor did you have your heating pad because it finally kicked the bucket.

“I can go get you more pain relievers. It wouldn’t take that long,” Toji offered from the threshold of your room. He had come to check on you after you disappeared just before dinner, finding you on your bed, curled up on your side to hold your stomach.

“It’s fine. They aren’t the worst. They’re just making me tired and nauseous.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Mm, you can lie down with me. We can take a nap.”

He exhaled a laugh. “Alright.”

Cuddling on the couch wasn’t a new concept. Lying down in a bed together definitely was.

He didn’t even get underneath the blanket, and made sure he kept a couple of inches of distance between you to maintain some friendly boundary. But boundaries be damned– consensually, of course.

“You can come closer if you want to,” you said, looking back at him to see that he was staring at the ceiling, his hands folded on his stomach. “You know I don’t bite.”

“Just… trying to be respectful,” he defended lightly, moving closer until his shoulder brushed your back.

“I appreciate that, but come closer. Like how we do it on the couch.” It took a moment, but you finally felt the bed shift behind you, and then his hand was sliding over your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You let out a sigh, wriggling back to get even closer. “This is nice.”

“Mm, it is.” 

His thumb stroked your waist, right at the bottom hem of your shirt. The sound of his breathing was light, comforting in a way. Had your guts not been trying to rip your insides apart with cramps, you almost could have enjoyed the moment.

When you sucked in a breath on a particularly sharp cramp, the tips of his fingers dug just a bit deeper into your side, a show of his concern. 

It was cute. You appreciated it.

But you wanted more.

Taking his hand, you guided it to your lower abdomen, letting it slip under your shirt to settle on your skin.

“Can you hold me right there? Is that okay?”

His face leaned into your shoulder, warm cheek pressed to your neck. “If it helps you, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.”

Rather than replying verbally, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

And that contact was great.

For all of five minutes before your hips twitched, arousal was building between your legs, and all from a simple, innocent touch. 

You squeezed your thighs together, squirming a bit in search of friction. If only you could slip your hand between your legs to grind against your fist, you’d be fine. 

But Toji would definitely notice that.

You tried to keep the squirming to a minimum; you didn’t want him to take his hand away. 

“I know you don’t mean it,” Toji finally choked out, trailing off as your writhing slackened. “You’re moving around...”

“S-Sorry, it’s just…” With no excuse, you added, “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled, probably growing tired in the warm, dim room, just like you were. “It’s just frustrating for me, too.”

“Sorry,” you said again, and stopped moving.

That is, until another cramp had you tensing up, and that hand on your lower stomach smoothed over your skin, just barely dipping into the waistband on your shorts before settling in the right spot again. You couldn’t help it; your thighs squeezed, and you squirmed.

“Baby-”

“I-” You swallowed down the whine building in the back of your throat before reaching back for his cock. He jerked at the feeling, thrusting toward you with a choked groan. Slowly, you tilted your hips back, pressing against him before cautiously asking, “Can we? Just this once?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it had to be beet red. But teasing him about his inexperience wasn’t what you wanted to do at that moment. What you wanted was to get off, to stop the cramps for at least a little while, and to sleep.

A tired, nervous chuckle vibrated against your shoulder blade as he pulled his hand away, tilting his hips away from you. “Um, I don’t know how to do… that-”

You drew back, the sting of rejection prickling all over. “Sorry. You’re right, that’s a lot-” 

“Don’t be sorry. I want to help, but I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t… want to screw it up.” 

“O-Okay.”

Awkward silence gathered quickly in the room.

“Can we try something else?” he asked quietly, reaching out for you again.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His hand trailed out from behind your legs, moving to your hip to give it a gentle nudge– not to push you away, just to tilt them in a way that he had more access to your ass. He grabbed the waistband of your shorts, stopping to ask, “Can I take these off?”

You swallowed thickly, still feeling confused, but you nodded anyway. Toji helped you out of them, tossing the pair aside and situating you again. You were nearly lying on your stomach, but with your hips still propped on your side. You grabbed your pillow, pressing your face into it to hide your embarrassment– you’d never been this bare in front of anyone, let alone Toji.

And he was still right behind you, holding himself up on his side while running his other hand up and down your bare thigh. His touch disappeared for a moment before coming back with two wet fingers swiping up and down your slit. You tensed, gasping quietly as he leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, groaning under his breath, “fuck me.”

“T-Toji.”

“Can I?” He traced his fingers over your entrance. “Right here?”

“Please,” you begged, “please, please, please-” He started with one, pressing inside before drawing back out to add the second, reaching so much deeper than your fingers ever would. With a whine, you brought one of your hands between your legs to play with your clit, circling it slowly to match the pace of his fingers. “Yes, fuck…” 

You felt his heavy breaths against your shoulder; he was getting himself worked up, too, despite receiving not a single touch in return. He wasn’t even grinding against you, but just the sounds he was making clued you in that he was feeling good, too. 

It was cute how easily you affected him, but this didn’t occur to you in the moment.

You arched your back just enough to prop your ass up more, taking his fingers in an angle that was just a bit deeper. The movement must’ve flared a little insecurity in him because he stopped to ask, “Is this okay?” 

You barely managed a nod and slurred into the pillow, “M-Mhm. S’good, Toji.”

He hummed, pleased with your response, and lowered his face to your neck again.

After so long in your position, your hand began to cramp, but with you being so desperate for an orgasm, you needed something more.

“Can you talk to me?”

“Um, about what?”

“I-I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, suddenly very self-aware of your predicament and really nervous about it. “Anything. Your voice. It sounds nice.”

You heard him groan behind you, felt his exhale brush over your shoulder, creating goosebumps in its path. And then, against your skin, he mumbled something that you couldn’t hear. 

“What?” Your fingers on your clit slowed.

He anxiously laughed, and then a little louder, repeated, “Can’t talk– I mean, I shouldn’t…”

Your brows furrowed, confusion sinking in. “What do you-”

“I just… I don’t know what I would say– sorry-”

You smiled into the pillow. “It’s okay. Can you kiss me instead?” And then to specify, “My neck. It’s sensitive. Feels nice.”

Toji followed through with your request, pressing his lips to the side of your throat, gently sucking and nipping his way to just below your ear. Your limbs softened, insides going gooey.

The second you really started sinking into the moment, your pussy tightening around his fingers, pressing your ass back into his hand for more, you felt his shuddering breath on your neck and then his teeth sinking in just a bit deeper than before. You tensed, whimpering out a soft sound, clenching your thighs together when it stirred up butterflies. 

Having obviously felt it, Toji snickered quietly and jokingly muttered over the bite, “Freak.” 

You couldn’t help it– his voice, his breath hitting the wet indents his teeth left behind– you moaned, clenching around his fingers once again. As if realizing just the effect his voice had on you, the playfulness in him receded with a whispering, “Oh.”

“Oh?” you shakily questioned.

“You just…” He pulled his fingers out just enough to thrust them back in, which was a different feeling entirely than the gentle internal petting he had been doing. 

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, taking it between your teeth when he did it again, and then again. The sound of your arousal wasn’t very subtle– Toji practically stopped breathing when he pressed them inside again, listening to the slick noise. 

He groaned and moved his hand quicker, just to hear how wet you were. 

You weren’t sure if he knew what he was doing, other than mapping you out and learning from the moment, but his innocent exploration of your body was getting you off. 

Quickly. Very quickly.

You arched into it, pressing your ass up to take his fingers, while you angled your face into the pillow. Maybe it was to hide or to stifle any sounds that would knock him out of the moment. 

Or maybe it was to save yourself from spontaneously combusting– because, holy shit, your best friend was fingering the fuck out of you and it felt otherworldly, but also, holy shit, this was Toji, your best friend.

“So fucking wet,” he breathed, “Feels so good, baby. You feel amazing.”

Your eyes widened, and you froze, because, again, this was your best friend. Your best friend, who now knows what your wet pussy feels like. Your best friend who thinks you feel amazing inside.

“T-Toji,” you stammered, using both hands to grab at the bedding.

He seemed to realize the situation for himself, too, and immediately pulled his hand away from you, apologies instantly falling from his lips. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t-” During his rambling, you flipped onto your back to face him. The abrupt movement and close, face-to-face proximity had him reeling back, but before he got too far, you fisted the front of his shirt to drag him back. He winced away from you, as if you might hit him. “That was too far, I know-”

“Toji-”

“M’sorry. I won’t say those things again-”

To make him shut up, you kissed him. Hard. 

He gasped and hesitantly kissed you back for all of two seconds before you pulled away just enough to speak. Your tongue traced over your bottom lip, swiping up your combined saliva. He followed the action with his eyes, nearly panting.

“You didn’t have to stop.”

His lips parted to take in a breath, his brows furrowed in confusion, and he looked at you as though you were speaking a different language. “What?”

Rather than saying anything else, you gently guided his hand back down between your legs. You even pressed his two middle fingers to your entrance, just barely pushing the tips of them inside. Still, he didn’t move– even if your gesture was an obvious invitation.

“Toji,” you began, bucking up into his hand. “I want you to keep going.”

You couldn’t blame him for his hesitation– he was just as new at this as you were; he was just as scared to fuck up, too. But in this moment, the only thing that could ruin anything was if he pulled away and didn’t finish what he started. 

You leaned in, tracing your lips over his own, hoping he’d just kiss you. 

“Please, Toji.” 

The redness on his cheeks flared, but rather than succumbing to his nervousness, he endured it. Without the kiss, he pressed his fingers inside, watching your face with widened pupils as if searching for anything that would tell him to stop. But he could search for as long as he wanted; he’d never find anything on your face that said you didn’t want this.

“Yes,” you cooed, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Just like before– it was good. You were doing so well.”

It took only a few pumps of his fingers inside of you before the heat of the moment caught back up to both of you. With you practically panting against his mouth, he groaned and finally– finally– kissed you again. 

The angle of his fingers, with you now on your back, was so much better than before; the curl of them now inching so close to something new, something you’d never felt on yourself. And all it took was you spreading your legs just a bit more for him to find it.

All at once, you tensed up, gripping his hair tighter, moaning loudly into his mouth. 

“Again,” you keened, “do that again.”

He listened without hesitation, pressing right into that spot– pressing right into it every single time. 

You broke away from his mouth with a sharp gasp and propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his hand between your legs. The way his forearm flexed, the way his palm was glistening with your arousal, the way he was watching it happen with you– 

“Fuck, Toji. T-That feels so f-fucking good.”

“Does it, baby?”

And the way he said that– it wasn’t insecure, it wasn’t hesitant or apprehensive. It was sarcastic, borderline condescending, but in the best way possible. It was confident, smug, like he knew he was making you feel good, and fuck, he really was.

You dragged your hand down between your legs, rubbing your fingers over your clit, and that combination was so mind-numbingly good. 

The realization that you were going to come– that Toji was about to make you come on his fingers– was jarring, but at the same time, it’s like this was what you had been waiting for for so long.

“So tight,” he murmured, more so to himself than you, but you heard it. And then he asked, “Are you close?”

“M-Mhm. Please, please-”

“Please?” You felt his grin against your neck. “I should be saying that to you; show me, please.”

You were practically writhing, right there at the edge, and despite that, you brokenly giggled, “You wanna see me come?”

“God, yes.” You felt his hips shift toward you, wishing desperately to grind against your thigh, but unable to reach you. “Fuck, please show me. Please.”

Your head tilted back lazily, letting you take in more air for those gasps and cries and whines that you couldn’t help. 

When your breathing turned into short, quick pants, and your thighs started to twitch, hips bucking for more, eyes daring to roll back in your skull, finally, your orgasm washed over you, brutally good and unrelenting. You clamped down around his fingers, thighs closing shut on his hand and your own as you rode out the blissful feeling.

Somewhere in that moment, you pulled Toji in, eagerly slotting your mouth right over his, and he responded just the same, kissing you hard until the orgasm faded, leaving behind only the residual beads of dopamine and oxytocin that flooded your brain. Your legs parted, and you drew your hand back, using it to hold onto his shoulders to keep him anchored at your side. 

His lips slowed, but the heat never wavered; the tension was still there. When you broke for air, he moved the tentative kisses down your jaw to your neck, gently fingering you in slow strokes to coax you back down from the high.

You panted, squinting and blinking in the dim room, thinking nothing but holy shit, you just did that. And then you felt his hips shift beside you, a subtle and probably subconscious grind of his cock against the inside of his pants to ease the tightness. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, all while staring at the bulge in his pants.

“Mm,” he hummed over your pulse, soaking up his own dose of endorphins– the oxytocin he was definitely drowning in from just being this close to you. You wondered if he somehow felt high just like you, even without the orgasm. 

And speaking of his lack of orgasm.

You pulled him over you, which was surprisingly easy given how pliant he was. Thankfully, his bones were entirely made of jelly, so he still kept himself from crushing you. He pulled his fingers from between your legs, pressing that hand into the bed to hold himself up. While guiding his mouth back to your own, you trailed a hand down his torso to tug at his waistband.

Instantly, he tensed and grabbed your wrist, pulling it away. He parted from your lips to ask, “What are you doing?”

“You’re hard.”

You weren’t sure if he assumed you just hadn’t noticed, like he hadn’t been rutting it against you the whole time, but he flushed at your words. 

“Sorry.”

You grinned. “Don’t be sorry. Just… can I return the favor?”

His eyes widened. “Oh. You don’t have to-”

“Toji,” you huffed, a borderline scold, “I want to. If you’ll let me.”

After everything that just transpired, he still hesitated in his answer. “Okay. Yeah. If you want, just…”

While waiting for him to finish, you brought your hand back down to his waistband, but before slipping inside, you prompted, “Just, what?”

“Uh… just don’t expect me to last that long.” You held a straight face for as long as you could before you broke out into a series of giggles, earning his groan. “It’s not funny.”

“Hm.” You kissed him once, leaning back just enough to mumble, “It’s a little funny,” before kissing him again. 

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his pants, slowly pushing them down, along with his boxers, until his cock sprang free. It dipped low with its weight, tapping your stomach. You pulled back from his mouth to look between your bodies at him, which he let you do for all of five seconds before he pressed you down, blocking your view of his cock.

“Don’t stare.”

“I just wanted to see really quickly.” Your lips twisted, holding back a grin. You reached down to wrap your hand around him. “You’re pretty big.”

His pupils dilated more as he sputtered for a response to that, but you didn’t give him the chance to form words before you stroked the entire length of him. And when he finally found something to say, it was a groaning, “God– yes,” as he leaned his face into the crook of your neck.

You bit back a smile. “Is this good?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good enough to make you come?”

He chuckled, then rasped, “Fuck, you could probably make me come by just breathing on it.”

You snorted. “That easy, huh?”

“You have no idea, baby.”

You knew you had to be doing something right because the precum dripping from his tip coated your hand; it was plenty to keep the friction to a minimum. 

He pressed a hand to your waist, just to slide over your skin, squeezing at the soft curve of your hip. It slipped underneath your shirt, trailing up the side of your ribs, stopping right at the swell of your breast before retreating. You only let him do it once more before slowing your hand on his cock and asking, “Do you want to see them?” 

“Hm?” He raised up from your neck. You pulled your shirt up to your chin, letting him get a look at your bare chest. “O-Oh.” His cock twitched in your hand, so you started stroking him again, just to hear another, softer, “o-oh…”

It was cute.

“You can–uh… touch them. If you want. Just be easy; they’re sore. You know, ‘cause of PMS and stuff–” The man gave you no time to process it; quicker than you could fathom a human being ever moving, he had moved down your body and taken one of your nipples into his mouth, making you gasp out in surprise. “O-Okay, yeah. That’s… good.”

You couldn’t reach his cock anymore, but apparently, you didn’t need to. With one hand between his own legs, he started jerking himself off while mouthing at your tits. 

Unsure of what to do with your hands, you propped yourself up on one elbow and carded your fingers through his hair, gently pulling on the strands to bring him closer. His eyes closed, and he exhaled a shaky moan, clearly getting off on the hair-playing. “Fuck,” he cursed when he pulled back, only to switch to the other. 

When he accidentally sucked just a bit too hard, you jerked beneath him, giving his hair a harsh pull, and scolding, “Easy.”

And Toji faltered, looking up at you, eyes laden with so much lust. He listened, slackening his tongue to soft, wet caresses, but still watching your face to make sure what he was doing was okay. 

To spare him the worry, you smiled, nodding and brushing your fingers through the hair that hung over his forehead. “Good, Toji. Much better.”

His eyes widened just a bit, cheeks flushing red, his movements slowing for only a moment before he abruptly pulled back. He looked down at himself, stroking his cock faster, breathing harder. The hand he was holding himself up with fisted the bedding so hard, you almost wondered if he could rip it that way. 

And then you felt it, hot ropes of cum hitting your bare stomach, pooling over your abdomen. He groaned, a guttural sound, something so sexy and primal that it had arousal flaring between your legs again. As his hand started to stop, you noticed the tension in his shoulders, which were barely moving as he breathed.

Before he could start to overthink– because you knew that was bound to happen with him– you placed both your hands on the sides of his face and forced him to look at you. 

There was the usual flush to his cheeks, and his eyes were still blown wide, but there was a new lax look to his features that you really liked. You thumbed at his swollen lip, feeling yourself smile as you asked, “You okay?”

His breathing stopped when his eyes flicked to your mouth. And then, he snapped out of it, clearing his throat. “Yeah. M’good.”

“You sure?”

He nodded and pressed forward, claiming your mouth once more. During the series of kisses, when both of you were still coming down, trying to get comfortable, you felt his hand slide through the cooling cum on your stomach, making him reel back.

“Shit. Sorry.” He was already pulling himself off the bed, tugging up his pants. “I’ll go get something-”

“Don’t bother,” you quipped, pulling your shirt off over your head. You messily wiped off your stomach before tossing it away. “Now, get back here. We’re supposed to be napping.”

He gaped at you, mouth wide open. Toji was quick to point out the obvious. “You’re naked.”

“Yes. But is it anything you haven’t already seen and/or jizzed on? No. So, get into bed.”

His nose crinkled. “Don’t say jizz.”

“Toji.”

He relented then. “Fine.”

author's note: First, I want to thank everyone who sent me messages and asks during my break-- you all are so sweet. There were quite a few, so I won't respond to each one, but just know I truly appreciated them <3!

Second, there was supposed to be a part two to this, but I don't know that I'll get around to writing it, nor do I think that anyone would want to read it anyway. It's canon compliant, so... we know how that ends. But if I cut it off right here, no one has to be sad, and it's a happy ending :)

And third, updating of any kind will be kinda slow for me right now as I work on other projects, so I really appreciate your patience. It means the world to me <3!! If you're interested in the other things I'm working on, they're on my ao3-- they are not x reader fics, but they are JJK, so please keep that in mind :)

Okay, thank you for reading!! <3!!

[w0rm3y]

Swallow | R. Sukuna | To Your Savior Complex

── .✦ pairing || felon!sukuna x teacher!reader

── .✦ summary || In the midst of grieving your late husband, you're looking to take on any distraction you can get. And lucky for you, your findings led you right to Sukuna, who was searching for the very same thing...

“Go on,” he urged you, giving your cheek a few pats before dropping his hand. “Swallow.” …and you did. 

── .✦ overall content & warnings || MDNI, heavy angst, grief & mourning (Reader is a widow), explicit sexual content, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, bad communication, terminal illness & death (not Reader or Sukuna), mentions of ED, mentions of infertility, relapse, alcoholism, addiction, depression, flashbacks, therapy, lots of drama, lil age gap (Sukuna is 26, Reader is 30), custody issues, Yuji and Sukuna are brothers, Yuji and Megumi call Reader sensei, Sukuna is on probation, and he's kind of an asshole, but they get through it together. happy ending, I promise :)

── .✦ this chapter || wc. 6.5k. here's part two of the previous chapter! it is loosely edited, so plz forgive any typos. it picks up right where we left off in the last. i'm gonna be honest, there isn't a whole lot going on in this one, but it is important. Sukuna meets with his PO. Reader tries to figure out what to do about her apartment. it's more fluffy than it is angsty imo, so i hope that makes up for the cliffhanger from the last chapter :)

master list || last chapter || next chapter

Sukuna blinked slowly, taking in the sight with a weird feeling pinching in his stomach and chest at the same time. He hated to make the connection, but there was something about the flashing red lights that lit up the night, the trampled mounds of snow, and the scent of smoke that was too familiar. It was hard not to remember the tragedy from all those years ago when faced with a scene that was nearly identical.

Weightlessly, he moved forward again, closing in on the mess. The flames had been put out, but your apartment was destroyed. All that remained were smoldering pieces of charred wood.

Across the parking lot, he noticed a few EMTs loading someone on a gurney into the back of an ambulance. The doors slammed shut, and the vehicle took off, leaving behind the wandering firefighters and stray people who came to watch the scene unfold. Mindless chatter could be heard, though it was quiet, save for one voice in particular.

Among those people emerged a white-haired man, phone pressed to his ear as he rambled off to someone, “... not that bad. Promise.” He came to a stop, listened for a moment before casting a glance over his shoulder to the burned building. “Uh, I doubt that, but look on the bright side-” Even from across the parking lot, Sukuna could hear that person over the phone giving the man hell for even suggesting that there was a bright side in this situation. The scolding made the man grin. “You get to stay with me for a while. It’ll be like a slumber party.”

He continued walking away from the building, passing by Sukuna without even looking at him, only to stand in front of a cowering older couple. The color drained from their faces when he raised his hand, silently telling them to wait while he finished up his conversation on the phone.

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’ll be fun. We can start looking for a new place for you tonight, and if you’re lucky, you’ll only be stuck with me for a few weeks-”

“Weeks?!” Sukuna heard the other person shout; it was loud enough that even the man pulled his cell phone away from his ear to save his hearing.

“Look, I know the Gojo name has a lot of leeway, but there’s only so much I can do. Getting you a nice place will take time, sweets. Just let me take care of everything. Don’t you trust me?” He paused, waiting for a response, and when that didn’t come, he scoffed, “I’m going to take your silence as a yes. Text me what you want for dinner, and I’ll bring it home.”

He ended the call quickly and pocketed his phone before giving his attention to the couple. 

Sukuna knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He was always a sucker for confrontation– watching it or participating in it, and focusing on this might be better than watching the firefighters rummage around in the rubble of your apartment.

“You’re the owners, right?” He motioned between them, not even giving them the chance to respond before he continued, “I’m the one who called your office multiple times, telling you over and over to fix the damn electrical issue before something happened. And now look, something, in fact, happened.”

“We can’t assume that it was the socket that caused this. For all we know, the fire started because someone forgot to turn off their stove,” argued the husband.

“Mm, that could be true. I suppose the only way to know for sure is to check the incident report.” From his jacket pocket, the man pulled out a piece of hard candy and began to unwrap it while purring, “Cross your fingers that you’re right, otherwise you two will be spending all of your insurance money to hire a nice lawyer.” He popped the candy in his mouth as he turned to leave, finally catching Sukuna’s stare before his eyes narrowed slightly. The man stopped in his tracks, raking his sight over Sukuna’s body before settling on his face to ask, “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

Sukuna allowed his eyes to do the same, taking in the expensive formal clothing and polished shoes that he couldn’t even begin to guess the price of. He shook his head, chuckling, “Definitely not.” While the white-haired man pursed his lips, not entirely convinced, Sukuna changed the subject. “It was definitely the electrical socket, by the way. Saw it sparking a couple of weeks ago, and with how dusty that place is...”

“Oh, I’m aware. They kept saying they had a maintenance guy look into it, but I know that old cheapskate did it himself to save a few bucks. And I know they’ve been reusing their filters in the ventilation system, so it’s really surprising that it didn’t happen sooner.” As the man spoke, he stepped closer to Sukuna, eating up the space between them until he was too close for comfort. His bright blue eyes were sharp, critical in a way, but not judgmental. “I think your tattoos are throwing me off, but I know I’ve seen you somewhere-”

“Seriously, I have no idea who you are. So, maybe back off,” he suggested, giving the man a light shove. He backed up from Sukuna, raising his hands in mock surrender. Before the man could offer up anything as a rebuttal, Sukuna turned on his heel and quickly retreated back toward his own place with his thoughts in complete disarray.

Should he tell your mother?

How long did he have before the Fushiguro kid relayed the information to Yuji that you may or may not be dead?

Wait. What if Fushiguro was in the fire, too, and was also dead?

Fuck. What if the place burned down the last time he took Yuji there-

Contemplating the what-ifs was pointless. Sukuna knew that better than most. Yet, he really couldn’t fucking help himself. 

By the time he made it back to his apartment, he managed to conjure up a mental image of all the terrible things that could have happened today, and it left him shaky-handed and feeling sick.

It was a normal human reaction when someone close to you died. But you weren’t close with Sukuna; he didn’t even like you. He’d definitely go as far as to say he hates you even more now, for making him feel guilty that you may or may not have died. It’s not his fault the place caught on fire.

But what if he could have tried to fix the electrical socket himself?

He slammed the door shut to his apartment, scoffing under his breath– Sukuna didn’t know the first thing about electrical work.

“Sukuna,” Yuji greeted him from the couch. He raised the remote and paused the movie that was playing on the TV. “You were gone for a while.”

“Yeah, well, I got sidetracked. And there’s lots of snow to walk through.”

“You could’ve taken your truck instead of walking…” the teen slyly replied, trailing off.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched. “And your ass could’ve just stayed in your room instead of bothering me.”

“Always so mean, ‘Kuna,” the teen tutted. “Anyway, watch this movie with me. It’s new.”

He looked at the screen and sighed, “It looks fucking stupid.” Still, he shed his coat and boots and sat down on the couch next to his brother. He side-eyed him a few times, gauging his mood, deciding that Yuji didn’t know about the fire yet. 

Should he tell him?

Or pretend that he doesn’t know-

“Oh, I forgot!” Yuji paused the movie again. “Fushiguro called. He said sensei’s apartment caught on fire.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. I bet it was that socket. Anyway, she’s living in his dad’s house until he can get her a new place. His dad is super rich, apparently. He even got a new house for him and Tsumiki, too.”

“Who’s Tsumiki?”

Yuji rolled his eyes. “Fushiguro’s sister. The girl he lives with. You’ve talked to her before.”

“I have?” Vaguely, Sukuna remembers something like that happening a few times, when he’d drop Yuji off at Megumi’s place. “Right, all is well then. Your teacher isn’t dead, and neither is your friend.” Sukuna can scratch both of those off his list of things to worry about.

“You’ll need to take me over there tomorrow morning.”

“What for?”

“Tutoring. I thought about it, and I think I should go. And you said it was a good idea, too, remember?”

Oh, he remembers. And he regrets it. 

Especially when Yuji sent him the address for this new place the next morning, and he saw how far away it was. 

“Yuji, it’s twenty minutes out of the city,” Sukuna scoffed, tossing his phone down on the counter to resume making his coffee.

“So?”

“So, we can’t walk there. And there’s no public transport that goes out that far.” None that Sukuna can afford, anyway.

“Then we take your truck-”

“The truck doesn’t run, dumbass. I’ve already told you that.” He let out a tired sigh, finding that it was way too early to be dealing with this, not when the stress of it brought a certain craving to burn in the back of his throat. Sukuna dragged his hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes before grabbing his phone quickly. “Just… give me a minute. I’ll see if someone can come pick us up.”

“Us?”

“Yes. Us,” he replied as he pulled up his own sponsor’s contact. When it began calling, he pressed it to his ear. “You didn’t think I’d just let you go into a stranger’s house without seeing myself around the place first, did you?”

“But sensei is there.”

An unwelcome, yet familiar warmth spread up his neck. “And what about it, brat? Do you want to go or not?”

“I do. I just think it’s stupid for you to get all protective when you know Sensei wouldn’t let me get hurt. But you do you, I guess. Just seems a little… weird that you wanna be involved now.”

A silence fell between them, broken up only by the buzz of Sukuna’s outgoing call. The brothers stared at one another, waiting for the other to crack first. After a few more beats, it was Sukuna who broke out of the staring competition, turning away to mutter, “Go get dressed before I change my mind.”

Yuji exhaled a laugh, but didn’t push his brother’s buttons further, instead hurrying down the hallway to his bedroom. As soon as the door shut, the line finally connected, after what felt like forever. Before they could even greet him, Sukuna started in with a playful reprimand.

“Took you long enough. What if I had been considering a drink?”

Uraume let out a tired groan. “I was sleeping. Forgive me for being human.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, not letting his guilt for interrupting their sleep get the better of him. It’s not like he did it very often anyway, and he really needed to call in a favor this time.

“Can you drive Yuji and me to his tutoring session? I would take the bus, but it’s out of the city.”

“Mm, no. But don’t mind taking Yuji to his tutoring session. You, sir, have to meet with Ms. Tsukumo this morning. In an hour, actually.”

A furrow formed between his brows as he pulled his phone away from his ear to check the date. Sure enough, it wasn’t Wednesday. “Why would I meet with Yuki? It’s Saturday.”

“Yes, and she’s on vacation next week for the holiday and can’t meet next Wednesday, so she rescheduled it for today. Which has been planned for many months, and you even told me to put it in my calendar so I could remind you about it because you knew that you would forget.”

“... well, at least I know myself,” he sighed, tugging at his hair. “Alright. You can drop him off, but can you make sure the place is okay? Check for flickering electrical sockets, extra dust bunnies, exposed wires, things like that.”

Uraume was quiet for a moment as they processed Sukuna’s request. He heard them briefly inhale before asking, “You didn’t like… actually drink, did you-?”

“No, I just– can you please do as I asked? I’ll explain later.”

“Okay, but maybe you should bring this up to Tsukumo. If you’re feeling paranoid again-”

“It’s not paranoia-”

“Sounds like paranoia to me, if you’re worrying about dust bunnies.”

Sukuna closed his eyes, heaving in a calming breath. “I know what you’re doing, and I really don’t have time for it now.” He downed half of his coffee in two gulps. “I’ll probably be in the shower when you get here, so text Yuji. He’ll be waiting.”

“If you want, I can drop you off at the diner, too-”

“No, thanks. I’d rather walk.” He finished off the rest of his drink before rinsing out the mug and turning it upside down to dry. “I have to go. Drive safe.”

“Will do.”

 The call promptly dropped, and Sukuna tossed his phone onto the counter. His hands moved toward the pack of cigarettes that he always kept nearby before he pulled his hand away, deciding that he didn’t have enough time for that, and would indulge on his walk to the diner. Yuki would complain about the smell, but she’d get over it.

He knocked on his brother’s door and waited for the teen to grant him entry before pushing it open. Inside, Yuji was multitasking, pulling on a wrinkled shirt while collecting things to shove into his backpack. Sukuna crinkled his nose at the sight before him.

“That shirt is dirty. And wrinkled.”

Yuji paused, looking down at himself. He pulled a bit of the fabric to his nose, giving it a sniff, and shrugged. “Smells okay.”

“No. Take it off. Give it to me.” He held his hand out, waiting for it, but only Yuji didn’t budge. “I’ll do laundry tonight, so find something else-”

“I don’t have anything else. The rest are too dirty, or they’re too small.”

It was then that Sukuna forgot his promise to his brother from a few weeks ago about letting the teen pick out some of his old clothes until Sukuna had enough money to get him something else.

“Go find something from my closet then.”

Yuji’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Not sure why you look so excited, but yes. We don’t have time to wash your clothes now.” He flexed his outstretched hand, prompting his brother to quickly remove his shirt before rushing into Sukuna’s room to search through his closet. Sukuna tossed the dirty shirt into the hamper before venturing to his own room, rolling his eyes at the way Yuji was ripping through his closet. “Uraume is going to take you to tutoring today. Be good for them. And your teacher, too.”

“I’m always good.”

Sukuna highly doubts that. 

“Mhm, right. Keep your phone on in case I need to call you. Uraume is going to text you when they get here, so be ready. They’re doing us a favor today, so be sure to thank them, too.”

“Okay. Can I wear this one?” 

Yuji held up a shirt to his body, glancing down at it to read the band’s name scrawled across the chest. Sukuna was familiar with the shirt and the image that was printed on the back, too. He’s sure that if you saw the pornographic decal on the back of one of your students, you would surely get upset about it, so Sukuna shook his head. 

“No. Find something else.”

Yuji frowned. “Why not–oh.” He disregarded his own question and quickly hung it back up when he caught sight of the image for himself. “Why do you even have that?”

Sukuna didn’t bother answering and instead continued, “Brush your hair before you leave, too. It’s a mess. And take your coat. I don’t care if you’re only outside long enough to get into Uraume’s car, I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Oh, my god,” Yuji groaned at his brother’s nagging. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Make sure to gather up your dirty clothes and put them in the hamper before you go. If I have to search your room for them when I get back from work tonight, I’ll be pissed-”

“I got it, okay?” The corners of Sukuna’s mouth just barely ticked up into a grin. He stepped back, about to walk to the bathroom, when his brother stopped him again with a new shirt held to his body. “What about this one?”

He gave it a quick once-over before turning on his heel to leave. “Looks good to me, Yu.”

* * * 

“Good morning, Sukuna!” the overly eager barista greeted him the second he walked through the door of the cafe. “Weird seeing you here on a Saturday.”

“Mhm.” The girl was already working on getting him a black coffee when he stepped up to the counter, pulling out his wallet to pay for the order, and placing it down in front of the cash register.

“Are you meeting with Ms. Yuki today?”

“S’that any of your business?” 

Never put off by his cold disposition, she only giggled, working on snapping the coffee lid onto the cup. “I suppose it isn’t, but I’ve never seen you come in with anyone else. Oh, is this a special day? Are you here for a date-?”

“No,” he replied flatly, shoving his wallet back into his pants. Like before, the girl only found him amusing, giggling as she collected the money from the counter. Sukuna, desperate to escape the conversation, took the cup and began retreating toward his usual table, only for the girl to stop him. 

“Sukuna, I’m so sorry, but you’re a few bucks short.”

“What do you mean? I always pay that much.”

She blushed, nodding sheepishly. “Coffee is only half-priced on Wednesdays.”

“Oh.” Now he was the one to feel a bit sheepish. He put the cup down on the counter, pulling out his wallet to find some more money, only there wasn’t any. “Um– fuck…”

“That’s okay!” she said cheerfully. “I can cover it-”

“No. I… hang on.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, searching for a stray couple of bucks, but finding nothing.

When he dug around in his other pocket, she spoke up again. “Seriously, I’ve got it-”

“Just… give me a fuckin’ second.” Besides some dryer lint and a crumpled up recent, Sukuna found nothing. Slowly, he dragged his eyes back to the barista, who smiled at him, too sympathetic for his liking. “Can I start a tab?”

“Huh?” She frowned. “Um… you mean like they do at bars?”

However, before he could answer her, a lanky body shouldered him out of the way, squeezing in between him and the counter. 

“Starting a tab so early in the morning? I don’t think the shops start selling alcohol until eleven on Saturdays.” Yuki tutted at him, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and nearly smacking him in the face with it.

He rolled his eyes at her little taunt. “It’s ten, actually. And that’s only on Sundays.” Sukuna began retreating toward their usual table, then, allowing Yuki to pay for their order. When she approached, handing off his drink to him, sliding into the other side of the booth, he promised, “I’ll pay you back next time.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Oh, but Sukuna would worry about it, and Yuki definitely knew that. But rather than assuring him that it was fine, she pulled out her notebook and pen, clicking the end of it. “Ready to get started?”

“I suppose,” he grumbled into his coffee.

“Great. Because Uraume called me on my way here.” Of course, they did. “And now I’m curious to know what you did to worry them. They’re like… the most stoic person I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t care what they told you; I’m not paranoid.” And the look on Yuki’s face told Sukuna that she didn’t believe him for even one second. “I’m not. Really.”

“So, why might they think that?” When Sukuna didn’t offer up any kind of answer that was more than just tapping his pointer finger on the table, she sighed, “I’m not trying to play therapist with you-”

“Are you sure?”

She kept speaking over him, “But I know this time of year is difficult, and there are a lot of little reminders all over the place. Kind of hard not to be when this place hasn’t changed at all, and it’s even more difficult when you haven’t changed much either. You’ve made progress, sure, but… you’ve sort of plateaued, if you get what I’m saying. But I’ve known you long enough to notice when you’re slipping.”

Sukuna scoffed, “I’m still sober. What more do you want from me?”

He already knew what her answer was. And she knew that he knew what her answer was, too, because this wasn’t the first time they had held a similar conversation. And really, she wasn’t trying to be his therapist, not even his PO in this moment, but his friend instead. 

He could appreciate that on some level, just not while he was so aware of how quickly his mood had been plummeting lately. If there was one thing he hated more than being told what to do, it was having to listen to someone say all the things he already knew to be true. His progress had plateaued, though he still had his head above the surface, barely treading water, but he was still breathing. 

He just wasn’t happy while doing it. And he wouldn’t be, not until the snow melted, but even then, warmer weather never guaranteed his good mood.

“I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want for yourself, but it’s not like I can pull it out of you either, so it’s really just up to you. Now, philosophical bullshit aside, what has your panties in a twist?”

The shortest, easiest answer to that question: you.

But Sukuna is sure Yuki won’t be satisfied with so little detail, so with that in mind, he sighed, “I started sponsoring someone-”

Yuki choked on her drink, spilling a bit of the black coffee down the sides of the cup as she coughed. Sukuna wasn’t really surprised with her reaction, though he was a little disappointed, which he made apparent as he handed her a few napkins to clean up her mess.

“You shouldn’t be sponsoring anyone,” she sputtered.

“Well, I am, but it’s not what you think. They aren’t even in the AA program. They’re in EDA-”

“And what do you know about eating disorders?”

“Next to nothing, but like I said, it’s not what you think.”

She leaned forward, eyes widened with probably the most emotion Sukuna has ever seen from the woman. “Really? Because what I think is that you’re taking on responsibilities that you don’t have the capacity to handle.”

“I can handle it. It’s not that much work. I’m not even really sponsoring her, it’s just for show.”

Hearing his answer, she leaned back, blinking slowly. “Explain.”

“Her mother is overbearing and is forcing a sponsor on her, but it’s obvious she just wants someone there to babysit her daughter. To keep tabs on her and shit. The woman doesn’t even need to be in the EDA program to begin with, but her mother had to have manipulated some judge to make it court-mandated.”

“Sukuna, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“I’m aware, but it’s true. It really is court-mandated EDA. The mother even told me.”

“And you just believe her? What if they’re both lying to you-”

“Trust me, they’re not. The woman would not be going to the damned meetings unless she was forced to. As I said, she doesn’t need to be there.”

“How do you know that? I think it’s pretty impossible to manipulate a judge.”

Sukuna gave it some thought– how does he really know that you don’t need to be there? Truthfully, he didn’t know for sure. It’s not like someone who needed EDA walked around with a flashing neon sign over their head that stated as much. But there was something about you that he found familiar, in the same sense that he felt it with himself.

“What she needs is to grieve, and it’s obvious her mother isn’t giving her the chance to do that.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer my question-”

“Then I don’t know,” he interjected sharply. “Maybe she does need to be there, maybe she doesn’t. Either way, it doesn’t change anything; I’m still her fake sponsor, and at the end of the day, I’m not taking on more than I can chew, so you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?”

Yuki exhaled a humorless laugh, “Not okay, actually. Just because you’re not really her sponsor doesn’t mean it’s not too much for you. Either you get yourself caught up in this family drama bullshit, or you’re forced to take responsibility for someone who really needs help, and if they fail, how do you think that’s going to make you feel?”

He shrugged, slumping back in the booth. “I won’t care. I’m not involved-”

“Yeah, right. Tell that to your weirdly selective savior complex.”

Sukuna brushed her off with a lazy wave of his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm.” Yuki eyed him for a moment, and he could feel how critical her stare was; it burned. But what hurt worse came only moments later, when she clicked her tongue, leaning forward to say, “Three years, Sukuna. Don’t throw all that away for someone you can’t even admit to caring about.”

* * * * * 

“And when plants soak up sunlight to convert that into energy, we call that…” you tearfully prompted the two boys for an answer, but rather than giving it, they only stared at you with way too much concern. You swallowed down the bile rising in the back of your throat and forced yourself to say, “Photosynthesis. Make sure to write that down.”

You could understand their looks; you were worrying them with your tears and poorly suppressed cries. But you were trying your best to keep your mind off the very recent events, and your students weren’t helping with that by staring at you like that. 

With a sniffle, you wiped your eyes with your soggy tissue and forced a laugh. “If you boys just keep looking at me like that, we’re never going to get through this study guide, and then you’ll fail the quiz.”

“Sensei,” Yuji began warily, “Megumi and I can study on our own, if you want to take a break.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but-”

“But you keep crying, and that’s weird.” From his left, Megumi rammed his elbow into Yuji’s side, making the boy draw back with a hiss. While it seemed painful, it must’ve knocked some sense into him because he quickly blurted out, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way-”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.” You cleared your throat and slid your chair back from the elaborate dining table. “Maybe I’ll just take a quick break. You two keep studying.”

As you stepped out of the dining room, you ventured toward the kitchen, which, thankfully, wasn’t that far away. You had already gotten lost in Gojo’s house once since you arrived yesterday, and you didn’t want that to happen again. There was seriously no sense in a single man having such a lavish home, especially when he so rarely stayed in it– or, well, you suppose it will be getting more use since he moved back.

While Gojo was too overbearing for most, you had to admit that you were at least a little grateful for his company after what happened– that being the fire at your apartment. Of course, you had Shoko and Utahime, who had already offered to help, but you didn’t want to put that strain on them. Along with not wanting them to carry a burden of yours, they also just didn’t know you as well as Gojo did. He was your first best friend, with you not meeting Shoko or Utahime until college.

As you’ve mentioned, he is overbearing, but in a different sense than Shoko or Utahime would be. For example, he would give you space if you asked for it, but the space in question would be perfectly decorated and stocked with anything you could possibly need, no matter how many times you told him it was too much. No takesies backsies, as he would say– and he did say last night when he showed you to your new bedroom.

“Can’t you just put me in a motel room?” you had asked him last night, to which he replied with a disgusted scoff, “Fuck no.”

You were starting to think he just wanted to have a sugar baby– platonically, of course.

As you pushed open the door to the kitchen, the quiet conversation taking place inside went quiet. Your eyes flicked between the two individuals– Yuji’s escort and Gojo– with a bit of surprise. 

“Uraume. I didn’t think you were still here.” A warmth crawled up your neck as you quickly wiped at your eyes. “Um, is everything okay?”

Upon their arrival, they had insisted on a tour of the place, per Sukuna’s request, to make sure no fire code was being broken. While it was odd how in-depth they were being and how devoted to Sukuna they seemed, you appreciated the concern they clearly had for Yuji, if they were going through the trouble of checking the place over. It also proved that Sukuna knew about the fire, so you wouldn't have to explain it all to him, since you were actively trying to avoid him. Getting drunk in front of him had left you feeling mortified, and you weren't sure when you would be able to face him again without feeling sick. 

“Everything seems okay to me. I only asked to see the kitchen again before I left,” they answered, earning a satisfied grin from your friend.

“They’re impressed with the appliances,” he gloated quietly to you.

“Yes. This fridge…” they trailed off in wonder, running their fingers over the light blue stainless steel, “is quite amazing. So big…”

“Thanks. I had it custom-made.” He shot you another grin, clearly enjoying the praise, before slinking off beside Uraume to peer inside his own fridge with them. “I can get you the company’s number-”

“Oh, don’t bother. I could never afford something like this. Nor would I know what to do with all the space.” They closed the door, watching the retention pull them closed slowly, until it silently sealed shut. “Wow, so quiet.”

“Want me to show you the custom-made knife organization system?”

“Organization system?”

“Well, I guess it’s more like a display case, but the knives are pretty cool.”

They gave a firm nod, clearly biting back their own excitement. “Please, show me.”

And just like that, Gojo swept Uraume away to gush over his luxuries. Meanwhile, all you could do was roll your eyes– he had always been such a show off. Although you had to admit his fridge was pretty cool, and he was so kind as to stock it with all of your favorite drinks and snacks, which you eagerly helped yourself to.

The two weren’t gone very long, returning just as you finished your snack and started cleaning up your mess of crumbs. They were still talking quietly with each other, but you noticed Uraume had just a twinge of extra excitement than they had before. 

“You seriously don’t mind?” they asked, following beside Gojo as they made their way out of the kitchen.

“Not at all. The kitchen needs to be used by someone, otherwise it’s just a waste of money.” 

You snorted to yourself, finding it a bit funny that Satoru Gojo cared about wasting money on stupid things. He walked them out, returning a few moments later to hoist himself onto the counter beside you.

“What was that about?” 

“I told them they could use my kitchen to test their recipes, so long as they’re sweet and they let me try them, too.”

You raised a brow. “They can’t do that in their own kitchen?”

“Well, they said their apartment kitchen is too small, and the restaurant they work at doesn’t allow them to experiment, so I figured, why not? I get food, praise, and to help someone out. I win, no matter what.”

“Must be nice.” 

The words slipped out before you could help them. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind and instead gave the top of your head a gentle pat.

“I found a few other places I think you’d-”

You cut him off with a deep groan, letting your face slump against his shoulder. “Don’t want a new place.”

“Well, you can always stay here and let me take care of you.”

You shook your head. “Can’t let you do that either. That’s not fair.”

His hand came up to the back of your head, cradling it in a comforting sort of way. “It’s fair. Trust me. I want to do this for you.”

 “But why?”

Gojo chuckled, “Why do you think? You’re my friend.”

“Sure, but… don’t you think this is a bit excessive?”

“Not to me. Now, come on. Let’s go watch TV or something.”

You pulled back. “I can’t. I’m tutoring-”

“No, you were tutoring. Megumi took Yuji up to his room to hang out like fifteen minutes ago. Besides, you need a distraction that doesn’t involve anything biological. I’m thinking a movie– a comedy, or maybe a thriller. And maybe while I choose something, you can call your mother.” You groaned at his suggestion, immediately put off by everything just from the mere mention of that woman. “I know. I had the same reaction when she called me. I tried to explain what happened, but she didn’t want to hear it from anyone other than you. She’s a little pissed you haven’t been returning her calls.”

And just like that, the added stress of having to speak to your mother brought more tears to your eyes.

“Yeah, well, my phone kinda burned up in the fire. Along with everything else, so maybe she should cut me some slack.” 

“Oh, that reminds me. We should start looking into replacements. For example, getting you a new phone. And when you get your new place, furniture, appliances-”

“Didn’t you just say I could stay here for as long as I want? What’s the rush?”

Gojo gave you a certain knowing look. “The offer is most definitely there, sweets, but how long are you going to use it before you start going stir crazy in here? I’m betting on two weeks. Maybe three-” 

“Gojo-”

“Stay here forever, I don’t care. But I’m just being realistic– I know you. Let me plan ahead, okay?”

You dragged a tired hand down your face. “Fine, fine.”

“Good. Now, I was thinking we could start by going through your storage unit. You still have a lot of furniture in there that you’d probably rather use than get new stuff, right?”

You suppose that he had a point, but…

“Ken’s stuff is in there. I’m still not ready to… look through it yet.”

“Well, we don’t have to do it today or even tomorrow. You don’t even have to do it at all. It was just a suggestion.”

You nodded and relaxed into his side. “Maybe you could check it out without me. Pick out the furniture you think would look nice in a new apartment.”

“You trust me to decorate your new place?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You said it yourself: you know me, right?”

“I do.”

You sighed, “Then I trust you. But I don’t want to talk about a new apartment or furniture or any of that today. I’m tired.”

Thankfully, Gojo didn’t force you to call your mother that night, even after she blew his phone up trying to get in touch with you. He ordered dinner, let you rest, and didn’t bother you about apartments either. It was nice to be given the space to just… be upset. 

However, you should have known that his overbearing, over-caring tendencies wouldn’t lie dormant forever. 

The next morning, he gave you a new phone, along with all the cute accessories to go along with it. Just when you were about to decline the offer, like the adult-child he was, Gojo shoved back into your hands while saying, “no takesies backsies,” just as he had the day before. It was ridiculous– he was ridiculous, but you really just appreciated the kindness.

Luckily, you got to keep your previous number, and transferring all of your contacts was pretty easy. Now, with your new phone all set up, you stared at a blank message log with your sponsor, deciding whether or not you wanted to text him. 

You were still a bit embarrassed by how you acted the last time you’d seen him. Having Sukuna carry you back to your apartment was obviously never the goal of that outing. You probably left him feeling so uncomfortable, and that could be the reason he hasn’t tried to reach out to you, too. Or, on a more likely note, he just didn’t want to talk to you for his usual Sukuna reasons.

Either way, you owed him an apology for that day. And a thank you.

And when you sent him the message, you stared at the little bubble for a good five minutes before shutting off your phone and tossing it aside. 

You had better things to be doing than waiting for his response. Like taking advantage of Gojo’s washing machine and luxurious fabric softener. Or catching up on TV shows you had only binged halfway through. Or grading papers, because that task was never-ending. Or… literally anything other than waiting for him to respond-

Your phone lit up with a message just as you were about to abandon it on your nightstand.

Sukuna: You were a pain in the ass, but it’s whatever.

You scoffed, tapping your thumbs over the keyboard to type out a response, only he beat you to it.

Sukuna: Heard about your apartment. That sucks.

Was… was that a bit of care? Was Sukuna concerned?

You: Yeah. They think it was the electrical socket that caused it, so go on and say ‘I told you so’. I know you want to.

You waited. And waited. For longer than you should have waited for his response, but it didn’t come. He had left you on read.

And for some reason, that was more aggravating than having him gloat about being right.

master list || next chapter

author's note: I'm so sorry if that was super boring for you all. It's going to get better, I swear. This was supposed to be a part of the previous chapter, but it would've been too long. Also, sorry it's a bit late, too. I got sidetracked working on other things.

tag list is closed :)

@chloe022r @yarimarjane @rinofcike @sueboo503 @juiceboxluvr

@brazzigy @sakuracream @ane5e @niragiscumslut @cherry-peach-flavored

@crystalferret202 @marcelinebtw @sukubusss @sincerely-kaiii @kusluv

@s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e @goldiesoaked @seellove @sukusdoll @casssiesthings

@supersoftfox @lucy-lulu @bam-boozledx @murakamisblog @choerryp1e

@cherrycokeline @sayakosama @jkslvsnella @chiaramartyna @honeychained

@babucakes @sempiternalmyth @rxtrovillans @seraph1nxx @jlovesyuuji

@onlykuna @grignardsreagent @ayookeikooo @levisthirdleg @dolliedee3

@ilovemacandcheese @pillowprincess4him @littleanaangel @hannahzg8

perm tags: @man1cslut @shrewdreader

[5yzygy]

sum. instead of two dicks, sukuna has one dick and a… clit?

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ cw. true form sukuna, heian era au, genuinely idek what cw to put here. oral (m receiving) but it’s not standard male genitalia?, piv sex, pearl necklace + mild cum play

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ an. idk why but for some reason this feels like one of the most perverted things ive written

Contrary to popular belief, the King of Curses was not the sex fiend many thought him to be… for no other reason other than that he simply didn't seem to hold much interest for it.

Women were food, and food is for eating not fucking.

But there are benefits to having some kind of bond with Sukuna and amidst those benefits was that he didn’t see you as food for the most part — which meant sex was still on the table.

Despite that, it was still months since your relationship with Sukuna began to deepen when he started to show the first seeds of lust — and even then, all sexual encounters required only you to undress.

Finally came the night you'd both had a bit too much sake to drink and the frolicking went far enough.

In the glow of the oil lamp within his chambers he removed his hakama and you saw him nude for the very first time.

There was, of course, one huge cock dangling between his muscled thighs — so large it bowed downwards beneath its weight even though he was fully hard.

And above it was a small structure you couldn't quite place at first — a fleshy little bud protruding from the skin.

Frankly there wasn't much to think aside from genuine curiosity.

…Which of course wasn't appeased with how your face was smushed into the futon, ass forced up into a steep arch.

Soon enough, you picked up that whatever it was, wasn't something you could even think of bringing up unless you wanted your tongue sliced clean off — which you knew well enough that Sukuna would do.

Without the chance of dying and his ability to heal with a single touch, any of your non-essential body parts were at risk, in fact.

So for weeks you were left to wonder by yourself in the safety of your own mind.

Eventually he began allowing positions where you could actually manage to sneak a glance at it and you noticed that it would swell somewhat when he was aroused.

Whatever it was, it was functional — and eventually you came to the conclusion that it was a clit.

A bit on the larger side, but a clit all the same.

It took considerable time and patience before you even dared to act on your realization.

But one night while riding him you risked sliding a hand down to brush a finger against the small peak before he could notice.

Instantly a whole-buddy shudder ran through him, muscles momentarily tensing under you—

Before you were met with a venomous glare. "Do not fucking touch—"

He practically bit his tongue off in an attempt to stifle whatever noise was about to come out as you rubbed it again.

Taking advantage of this newfound vulnerability, you rubbed tight little circles on it, grinding your hips with increasing vigor, walls squeezing tight around his girth.

You've never seen Sukuna cum so fast.

The lower pair of hands digging nails into the flesh around your hips until it stung, all four eyes rolling back with a throaty groan as his cock shot its load inside you.

Sukuna normally came for about two or three seconds — but with you continuously stimulating his clit, he came for nearly six seconds.

Immobilized for six whole seconds as milky seed started spilling out of you, around his length and into the thatch of hair around the base.

But the instant his orgasm finished, before you could even consider enjoying a sliver of satisfaction, he was flinging you off like a rodent that had scampered up his hakama.

"Hey!" you complained, toppling over the side of the futon, halfway on the wooden floor, "I didn't finish yet."

"Finish? You should be grateful I'm not finishing your life right now," he growled, shoving you even further away from him when you tried to crawl back. "Stay back, wench."

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to make you feel good—"

"Don't bother with your pathetic excuses," he barked, "You're banned from sleeping in my bed tonight."

Your jaw dropped. "What?! All because I touched your clit?! I have one too and I let you touch it all the time."

"Call it that again and you'll be losing tongue privileges for the next week."

For the sake of your tongue, you shut your mouth.

Despite that incident, with enough patience over the next few weeks, little by little, he did grow more comfortable with you touching it—till finally you gained enough of his trust to be here:

Throat contracting around his cock, spit and precum dripping down your lips and chin, hair strands sticking to your temples, eyes watery and jaw tight with the flaring pain… and one hand above his dick, gently caressing the bud.

It's more sensitive than yours, you quickly learned — which perhaps explains his adverse reaction that first time.

Soon you're pulling off his cock, coughing slightly from the soreness left behind where his tip was repeatedly ramming into your pharynx.

Sukuna blinks. "Fuck are you doing?"

"I want to be," you hover your wet, swollen lips near his clit, "up here."

Your lashes flutter up, looking to him for permission as your hand continues to lazily stroke his cock.

His gaze bores back down for a long moment as though he's conflicted — and finally with a pained sigh, "…Fine."

It's almost ridiculous how gleeful you are at this opportunity.m, fingers tightening around his shaft.

In response his own grip tightens in your hair as well when you lean in, as if to be able to yank you off at any point if needed.

You stick out your tongue, using the tip to start off with a delicate swirl around the pearled clit. It stiffens further under the touch, a low exhale slowly leaving him.

Encouraged, you pump him faster and lick over the bud, sealing your mouth to try a soft suction.

There's a noise he lets out — like he's tried to bite in a moan and left it to die in his throat.

You hum, wiggling your tongue over it till his entire body tenses and you think you might actually feel his hips pull back ever so slightly.

Arousal begins clinging at your entrance from how oddly intimate it all feels; never have you seen Sukuna so vulnerable.

You flick your tongue over and back across the smooth bud, swollen but still soft. Precum sticks to the palm still continuously dragging up and down his shaft.

Daring to go even further, your other hand lifts to delicately feel around where your mouth is — and pull the hood back.

"Fuck—" he breathes as you lave it with saliva.

Then you come up with the brilliant idea to very carefully close your teeth around it — and bite. Just enough to apply pressure.

It's tender between your teeth, even when he hisses as it start to twitch violently.

And just like that he cums, hot semen splattering across your tits in rhythmic spurts.

You lap at him till completion, till he's roughly pushing you off the sensitive nub.

He catches his breath as you sit back on your haunches, grinning up at him as milky beads of cum roll down your skin.

"Don't give me that look," he mutters. "It's insufferable."

"I can't be happy that I made you feel good?"

"You're not happy, you're smug."

The maw opens to allow the large tattooed tongue inside slither out.

You don't flinch as it licks up the splattered cum on your chest in one smooth drag, the warm muscle gliding over your skin.

Then it extends towards you, runny semen mixed with saliva smeared at the tip.

Without hesitation, you lean in and open your own mouth to lick it clean.

For all his complaining, both of you know you'd go to shameless lengths to please him.

caption: sukuna when i lick his clit

(art cred: daiya._art on ig)

[w0rm3y]

Im a huge fan or how you write your mc’s, the girl scout reader one is so dear to me even though its a one shot i just enjoy how well they can put up with sukunas attitude and personality

Aw, thank you so much!! I think that was the first ever one shot I wrote for Sukuna's character. And I've always been a sucker for pairing him up with someone who can handle him. He deserves the stress always, but especially in that fic lol

[w0rm3y]

hey so Swallow is making me cry. the sweet sweet ANGST i love the way you write Sukuna here, and i love how vulnerable he is under that very very very prickly exterior….. he’s just trying to protect himself the only way he knows how ahhhhhzhsjjsjsjsjdidjejdiiiiisidkesbhshhxduusjsjsjsjjsjajuddidjdhebsjsjdn im crying againananxisijsjs

Honestly, I make myself cry when I write it. Like I kinda feel bad for what I'm putting him through. When I came up with the idea for this fic, I was really just wanting to make something that was so gut-wrenchingly sad, but I've since dialed it back lol. I'll save that level of angst for another fic. But I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!! Thank you for reading!! <33!!

[w0rm3y]

Your new fic is so good! Wow-weeeeeeeee. I love me some (sort of) soft Sukuna. You write him so well in your stories and I always fall for him. I can't stand his ass in the manga/anime though.😭

Glorious writing, sweet girl!

I can't wait to see how the story unfolds in "Swallow". So exciting!!!

Ahh! Thank you so much!! Sukuna being a lil softie is one of my favorite ways to write him, so I'm glad you're enjoying him, too! And I have quite a bit planned for Swallow that I'm super excited to get into! <3!

[w0rm3y]

hi wormy

do you plan on finishing malevolence in spring anytime soon. just wondering. because the last time you updated was in December, and it doesn't look like you'll continue it. but as I said, just wondering.

Hii! I do plan on finishing MIS, but I don't have an exact timeframe for when that will be. I'm just slow updating it right now while I work on other fics. I am really sorry for taking so long between updates, but I will finish it eventually! I promise! <33!

[w0rm3y]

Swallow | R. Sukuna | And You Left A Friction Burn

── .✦ pairing || felon!sukuna x teacher!reader

── .✦ summary || In the midst of grieving your late husband, you're looking to take on any distraction you can get. And lucky for you, your findings led you right to Sukuna, who was searching for the very same thing...

“Go on,” he urged you, giving your cheek a few pats before dropping his hand. “Swallow.” …and you did. 

── .✦ overall content & warnings || MDNI, heavy angst, grief & mourning (Reader is a widow), explicit sexual content, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, bad communication, terminal illness & death (not Reader or Sukuna), mentions of ED, mentions of infertility, relapse, alcoholism, addiction, depression, flashbacks, therapy, lots of drama, lil age gap (Sukuna is 26, Reader is 30), custody issues, Yuji and Sukuna are brothers, Yuji and Megumi call Reader sensei, Sukuna is on probation, and he's kind of an asshole, but they get through it together. happy ending, I promise :)

── .✦ this chapter || wc. 9k. Reader and Sukuna meet with Reader's mother to discuss the sponsorship. lots of mommy issues from both sides. neither of their mothers is the nicest. Reader gets drunk, and Sukuna carries her home. 2 flashbacks (any part where Nanami is alive is a flashback). there's quite a bit going on in this chapter, and there are a lot of little connections for you all to make, so I hope you enjoy :)

master list || last chapter || next chapter

Sukuna’s eyes honed in on the container of desserts his therapist had placed in front of him, frowning at the design of them. Whoever had made them put in a lot of time crafting the buns to look like little bunnies, making two little holes for the eyes, and extra sculpted pieces for the ears and little tail. They were stupid and definitely a waste of time to make, but they made Sukuna curious.

“What’s this for?” he questioned, glancing up at Nanami, who regarded him with a tight-lipped smile–a near wince, now that Sukuna was really thinking about it. 

“Uh, my wife made them. For you.”

The teen blinked, feeling a bit confused. “Why…?”

Nanami rubbed at his cheek, looking sheepish. “Over dinner last night, I accidentally let slip that it was your birthday today, and she insisted on making something for you. I told her not to bother, that you wouldn’t expect anything, but she’s a stubborn woman… If you don’t want them, feel free to take them home to your family.”

Sukuna bit at his inner cheek, a grimace forming on his face. Not one of disgust, just one of… bewilderment. It had been quite some time since someone had acknowledged his birthday with a treat like this. 

“I want them, I just… why are they bunnies?”

Nanami breathed out a laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

He hummed over it before accepting the gift. Free food was free food, something Sukuna was never one to turn down. “Um, tell her I said thanks. I guess.”

“I’ll pass it along.” 

Nanami took a seat in his usual chair across from his patient. He grabbed his notebook from the cushion and split it open, lips parting to begin the sessions, but before he could, Sukuna spoke first. “I didn’t know you were married. Didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

The therapist looked a bit surprised to have his patient questioning his personal life. “Oh. I apologize. I suppose I never mentioned her before.” He held up his left hand, proudly displaying the gold band around his ring finger. “We got married this past March. A small venue in Hokkaido. Then spent the weekend there for our honeymoon.”

Sukuna mulled over his answer. “A short honeymoon.”

Nanami nodded. “Well, we’re both a bit busy, so a short trip was all we could manage.” Another tight-lipped response. “Anyway-”

“What does she do?”

The man forced a smile, swallowing down the awkwardness that was accumulating. “She’s a student. Graduates this year-”

“You married a student?” Sukuna interrupted with an incredulous glower, bringing Nanami to let out a soft sigh.

“A college student, and yes-”

“Still. She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think? Aren’t you like… forty?”

Nanami breathed out an amused sound. “Not quite. Thirty-four, actually-”

“And, what? She’s mature for her age, or something?” The teen raised his brows in an accusatory way. “Why are you married to someone so-”

“Do you have an issue with age gap relationships, Sukuna? Or just with relationships in general?” With that prying question, Sukuna fell silent, leaving Nanami to continue with a huff. “Since you’re so interested, she’s twenty-three. She was eighteen when we met, and we started dating when she was nineteen. There was a project she was working on for her psychology class, and she sought out a proper reference for her paper. We kept in touch afterward, and here we are. Does that quell your curiosities? I’m happy to answer more-”

“That’s okay. I’m good,” Sukuna responded bitterly.

Nanami took in his patient’s body language and pursed his lips. He folded his notebook closed again, shoving it between the cushions as if to take on a more casual position. Sukuna knew he was in for invasive questions when Nanami did that, and it almost made him regret asking about you in the first place.

“You know, we never talk about your relationships-”

“Not really anything to talk about anyway. I’m single,” the teen bit out, feeling his face warm up, a twinge of uncomfortable embarrassment swirling in his gut.

Nanami, unaware of the distress he was causing Sukuna, continued, “You’re not interested in having a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Alright. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes it’s just not on the radar for some people. Sometimes they just need to find the right person, or not at all…” 

The way his comment trailed had Sukuna scoffing, “Sounds like you’re pussy-footing around a question.”

Nanami chuckled, “As I do most of the time with you, yes. Directly asking you personal questions has never fared well for me, but if you’re comfortable answering them today-”

“Christ, it’s not like I’m a little kid. You can ask what you want to know, and I’ll decide whether I want to answer them or not.” The therapist still looked amused, which irked Sukuna far more than it should have. “Just ask your stupid questions.”

“Okay. Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Nanami thought about his question for a moment before adding, “Or boyfriend-”

“I’m straight. And, no. No girlfriend,” Sukuna stated flatly. “Girls have tried, but I’m just… I don’t want one.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“Just don’t want one,” he reiterated tersely. “Too much work.”

“If you’ve never had a girlfriend, how do you know they’re too much work?”

Sukuna slumped down in his seat with a groan, leaning his head back as he debated whether or not he wanted to get into this with Nanami. Realistically, he could tell the man to fuck off, and he’d listen. But Sukuna had to admit that he was curious to know Nanami’s professional opinion on the matter.

“There was this girl a couple of years ago, Yorozu, who was always following me around, sticking her nose into my business, demanding my time. She asked me out a couple of times, but I always turned her down. It was annoying. I mean, she was pretty, but I never felt… compelled to date her. I don’t feel that way about anyone. And there was this other girl… Takako, I think. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend, she just wanted a–um… something else-”

“A friends with benefits relationship?” More heat bloomed over Sukuna’s face, which must’ve been apparent to Nanami, because he smiled reassuringly. “You’re almost an adult, Sukuna. You don’t have to be embarrassed to talk about sex. It’s not a crime, it’s natural-” And Sukuna felt like he was melting at that point, yet Nanami continued, “And this is a safe space. I would never tell anyone-”

“I’m not–that isn’t-” Sukuna cut himself off with a muffled groan. “M’not interested in that stuff either.”

“Oh?” For a moment, Nanami’s poker face slipped before he gathered himself again. “That’s okay. Not everyone is wired that way-”

“That’s not– I meant that– fuck, it works, okay?” At Sukuna’s raised voice, Nanami cocked a brow, and the teen sighed, “I already know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?”

Sukuna nodded. “You think that everything I went through made me asexual, o-or aromantic, and that’s not the case-”

“That’s not-”

He interrupted, unable to help the word vomit spew out, “Maybe I am aromantic. I just don’t feel the need to be in a committed relationship right now, but I feel sexual attraction. Girls are hot, I’m not fucking blind. It’s just that what Takako wanted isn’t what I wanted–and don’t ask what I wanted because I am not getting into that with you.”

As Sukuna ended his spiel, Nanami’s reassuring smile returned. “I wasn’t going to. None of this was really relevant to our session, Sukuna. I was just making conversation. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

For some reason, the teen felt a bit relieved to hear that. As the silence ticked on, Sukuna picked at the tread of his shoes before forcing himself to ask, “So, you don’t think that what happened to me is why I feel the way that I do?”

Nanami tilted his head slightly in contemplation. “It’s hard to say. Orientation– sexual or romantic– isn’t usually determined by a certain event. A lot of the time, that’s how people are born. And sometimes, feelings change without any rhyme or reason. It can be fluid. That’s not to say that your aversion to relationships wasn’t influenced by the events that happened. It’s likely that you feel withdrawn because of it, but in that case, it’s a symptom of something else. At the end of the day, it’s not a choice, so whether you’re aromantic or asexual, you shouldn’t feel bad-”

“I don’t. Just wanna make sure it’s not my past that’s making me feel shit.”

“Well, again, it’s hard to say. While it all seems to overlap, so to speak, we’re talking about two very different things. Withdrawing from people because you’re depressed isn’t aromanticism. But you can be aromantic and depressed at the same time. Just because you don’t feel a need for a relationship now doesn’t mean you’ll feel that way when you’re older, or maybe you’ll feel this way forever. It sounds like you haven’t figured it out for yourself yet, and that’s not something I can answer for you. But I can listen and give my input when needed.”

If Sukuna were being honest, he would have to admit that this was the most genuine conversation he’s ever had with his therapist. 

And it was this feeling that had him asking, “So, if I never end up wanting a romantic relationship ever, but a friend with benefits sort of deal instead, that doesn’t make me a… bad person?”

Nanami gave him a funny look, seemingly perplexed by the question. Truthfully, Sukuna was feeling the same way–why did he ask that? 

“Not in the slightest. So long as you’re both consenting adults, and you treat one another with respect, there’s nothing wrong with that at all. But, Sukuna, you’re smart enough to know that…” When Nanami made a grab for his notebook that was held between the cushions of his chair, Sukuna knew the session had really started, and probably with the topic Sukuna wanted to avoid the most. “Did someone make you feel bad about not wanting a romantic relationship?”

Yes. His mother. Sort of his father, too. And maybe his grandfather.

But the answer to that question had actually answered the question that started this conversation. 

He wasn’t aromantic, nor asexual.

He was just unwilling to accept another person so closely into his life, and risk losing them like he had the others. His past was making him withdraw from others. It was a mental game that he just figured out on his own. 

With the revelation in mind, he didn’t feel the need to answer Nanami’s question, and instead asked one of his own, one that signified that he was done talking about the topic, and that he had decided to shut down entirely.

“Can I have a piece of paper and a pencil? I feel like drawing.”

Nanami’s lips pressed flat, disappointment clear as day, but he stood to get the paper and pencil anyway, knowing there was nothing he could do to change Sukuna’s mind. The teen, now angled toward the window to look at the birds outside in the mulberry tree for reference, felt significantly better.

“What kind of music do you want to listen to today?” Nanami asked, stepping back toward his desk.

“Don’t care.”

“You can choose whatever you want. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Sukuna paused, thinking it over. Realistically, there was no way Nanami was going to play the heavy rock music Sukuna listened to, so rather than getting his hopes up, he shrugged.

“Just play that 80s bullshit you always listen to.”

From behind his desk, Nanami chuckled and worked on pulling up the music. “You know, I’m starting to think you like Phil Collins.”

Yeah, maybe Sukuna was.

* * * * *

8 Years Later

You sat outside the restaurant, anxiously tapping your foot while staring down at your message log with Sukuna. Through Megumi, you were able to snag Sukuna’s number after promising him a passing grade on his test if he didn’t snitch. Somehow, the boy convinced Yuji that he needed Sukuna’s number for a project that he couldn’t talk about yet, which seemed to be enough for Yuji not ask any further questions. 

So now, you waited for Sukuna to respond to your text, telling him the updated address for this meeting with your mother: a restaurant far fancier than you’re sure Sukuna was used to. It was very last-minute, so you were starting to get nervous and worry that Sukuna wouldn’t see the text-

“Could you have picked a more pretentious place?” a familiar voice questioned, telling you that, thankfully, luck seemed to be on your side. 

Well, sort of. 

Sukuna had arrived, but…

“What are you wearing?” you questioned, giving Sukuna’s tattered attire a critical once-over as he approached the entrance of the restaurant. He glanced down at himself before his eyes settled on you again, his irritation too obvious for your liking; hence the reason you snapped, “There are stains on your pants-”

He raised a hand to cut you off. “I just came from work. Spare me the bullshit, alright-”

“No, I won’t.” You didn’t mean to sound like a bitch, but you were slightly panicking. As if you weren’t nervous enough to begin with, and he decided to show up like this? Stained jeans, a tank top that was probably white years ago, weathered boots, and the same old duck canvas coat that now had a few stains from its brief time on the parking lot pavement just a few hours ago. “You knew our plans for today. Couldn’t you have at least tried a little bit? We’re at a fancy restaurant. You knew we were meeting with my mother-”

“Yes. Your mother. Not the Queen of England, so chill the fuck out.” He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, gesturing for you to enter first as he continued behind you, “I had to switch around my shifts at the dock and restaurant for this. You should be grateful I’m even doing this for you.”

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it as he followed you inside. “I don’t have to be grateful for anything half-assed-”

“I didn’t know you were going to switch up the restaurant. These clothes would have been fine for the other place. If I had known you were just going to bitch about it, I would’ve stayed at home-”

 “Actually, you couldn’t have. You got your payment already.”

“Mm, a dry handjob behind a dumpster.”

“Didn’t sound like you were complaining when you busted in my hand.”

You noticed a bit of redness creep up his neck as he snarled, “Fuck off. And you left a friction burn on my dick, by the way.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh, no. I hope your walk home with cummy boxers didn’t make that worse for you. Did you chafe?” Your wry, condescending tone had him scowling. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunted just in time for the hostess to ask their usual questions and lead you to a table in the back where your mother had booked the reservation. 

She hadn’t arrived yet–not shocking in the slightest–which meant you and Sukuna were faced with awkward silence. Though, for some reason, the awkwardness never seemed to eat away at him in the few times you two have interacted, unlike how it had you feeling as though you were drowning. 

Tense quietness ensued until you were nearly suffocating on it, all while Sukuna stared out the window with a bored expression. He wasn’t even contributing to the awkwardness; it was just you, which was all the more reason for you to take a little break, even if you had just gotten there. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Didn’t ask,” he shot back, not missing a beat.

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes and slid out of your chair. “When they come for drinks, order me a coffee.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

You swallowed down your irritated groan and made your way to the bathroom, making sure to take up as much time as possible to ensure being alone with Sukuna was at a minimum. 

While washing your hands, your eyes caught sight of yourself in the mirror, but more specifically, the tired, dull look in your eyes, and the frown that creased your mouth. If you didn’t stop scowling, you were going to get frown lines too early in life. But then again, smiling too much would have the same effect, wouldn’t it?

Maybe you needed a new skincare routine…

Or, maybe you shouldn’t worry about the small things. People age; it’s natural. Whether you slathered yourself in retinol every night or not wasn’t going to change the fact that one day, you’ll die-

You stopped that thought too quickly, snickering to yourself when you realized you’d rather stand in the bathroom, contemplating your own death, than sit in awkward silence with Sukuna– you really didn’t want to do it, deal with it, think about it. You wanted nothing more than to go home and just relax– after grading your papers, of course.

But first, you had to face Sukuna. And then you had to face your mother, which was worse.

You shut off the water and huffed, roughly grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser before drying off your hands and shoving open the bathroom door.

When you returned to the table, you were unpleasantly surprised to see your mother had finally arrived and was engaged with Sukuna in a heated conversation. Your stomach rolled at the sight, and the thought of just jumping ship to abandon this whole scheme seemed preferable. But, unfortunately, your mother caught your lingering gaze before you could make your hasty escape.

“This is who you hired to be your sponsor?” Your eyes widened at her tone–she was loud, though she wasn’t angry. Half the restaurant in your seating area turned to give you dirty looks. Before she could spout off more comments in her booming voice, you quickly rushed over. All too calmly, as if she were amused with your choice, she added, “He said he’s a convict.”

Your eyes, which were already wide open to begin with, widened even more, but this time in Sukuna’s direction. “Why would you tell her that?”

“She sat down and immediately started asking me about myself,” he stated, too nonchalant for your liking.

“And you start with that?”

“No. I started with where I work, and she asked about college. Told her I didn’t go-”

“And when I asked how he obtained these odd jobs, he said his probation officer secured them for him,” your mother finished, leaving you both to stare at the man in question, you glaring while your mother dryly smiled. 

“What? It was the truth.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling a breath before leveling with your mother. “Look, Sukuna is a great sponsor, felonies or not, alright? He knows the program like the back of his hand-”

“Are you sure?”

No, you weren’t, and her questioning you like that was making you feel diffident. But still, you lied, “Yes, I’m sure.”

She chuckled, “Pardon me, but I find it hard to believe that this man knows the EDA program-”

Just then, the waitress approached, greeting your mother as she set a mug of coffee in front of you, followed by a little plate with sugar cubes and a small pitcher of cream. 

And for Sukuna, a glass of water with a lemon wedge. He grimaced and plucked it out, discarding it on a napkin before daring to take a sip from the glass, and still, the little scowl remained– clearly, he did not like lemon water, which you thought was fitting for him. 

Beside you, he caught your stare, but only briefly before looking off again. 

While your mother ordered, you fixed up your coffee– six cubes of sugar and a dash of cream. You weren’t really paying attention, choosing instead to focus on the coffee since it could do no wrong in this situation. That is, until you heard your mother ask, “Do either of you have a preference?”

That question pulled both of you away from your drinks. 

“Preference for what?” you asked, eyeing the menu in her hands. The alcohol menu.

She motioned toward the booklet in front of her. “The wine, obviously. White or red-?”

“No, thanks, Mom,” you rushed out, feeling a warmth settle on the back of your neck. “It’s only noon. Do you really need to be drinking?”

She blinked at you, emotionless as always. “It’s just wine. And since when are you such a prude?” Scoffing, she turned to Sukuna. “What’s your preference then-”

“Mom,” you scolded, though it wasn’t heard.

“You want a convict’s opinion on which wine you should get?” Sukuna retorted with a chuckle. 

Your mother shrugged. “Everyone likes wine. Even convicts.”

“No doubt,” he mused under his breath.

“Doesn’t seem like they have pruno on here, though…” 

At that, whatever that meant, Sukuna laughed. It caught you off guard, making your breath hitch in your throat. You didn’t think the man was capable of such a genuine sound. And even your mother was snickering to herself at her own joke, which you definitely didn’t understand. 

She continued absent-mindedly, “Maybe a Moscato. Everyone likes that.”

“You should choose whatever you want,” Sukuna replied, “I don’t drink.”

“No?” Sukuna shook his head in response, which she hummed over, and ordered a glass of Moscato for herself. “Why not? You seem like the type to indulge.” 

“I used to. Just not anymore.”

Your mother mulled over his answer. “I see.” As if his words gave her some sort of insight into who he was, she dared to ask, “So, how long have you been sober?”

It was instinctive, really, the way you slammed your foot into her shin. She jolted forward, sending a glare your way. “You can’t just ask that. That’s rude-”

“Christ, I’m just making conversation. That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it-”

“And you can do that without prying into someone’s personal life-” 

During your bickering, Sukuna placed a silver coin on the table, ‘To Thine Own Self Be True, One Day At A Time’ engraved in the metal, and in the middle displayed the number of years–3, to be exact.

“Interesting.” Your mother picked it up, whistling lowly as if she were impressed. Honestly, you had never seen her react this way to anything before, so you were a bit confused. “I don’t know how you do it. Stop drinking, I mean. I know I couldn’t.”

“Not really a choice,” Sukuna muttered, accepting the chip back in his hand to pocket. “It’s this or prison.”

“Ah, but at least there’s pruno in prison.”

The corners of his mouth lifted up into a small grin. “I’m doubting you’ve ever tried prison wine. If you had, you’d know it’s not worth it.”

“Must not be a desperate drunk then, are you?”

Your eyes widened, and once again, you kicked her under the table. However, Sukuna didn’t seem too put off by her question. “Oh, my god. Can you act normal?” you hissed under your breath. “You’re being inappropriate. And invasive.”

“It’s not like I’m making him answer-”

“But he probably feels like he has to. You’re treating this like an interrogation.”

“Then the convict should feel right at home.”

Somehow, your eyes widened even more when those words passed her lips. You tensed up as Sukuna sucked in a surprised breath, him muttering, “Wow.” Rather than sounding pissed, he seemed amused once again– what the fuck was going on? “There’s no beating around the bush with you, is there?”

She grinned, a certain blush taking over her cheeks. “Not at all. I get right to it. Makes everyone feel like they need to walk on eggshells around me.”

Sukuna, much to your dismay, seemed to enjoy her answer and played into her antics with a coy, “And you like that, don’t you?”

“So much,” she purred in a tone that had your stomach churning with disgust. “I can tell you’re different, though. I’m not scaring you.”

“I’m not easily scared,” he simpered.

“Mm, I like that, too.”

Unable to stand it, you interjected, “Are you even sober right now?”

Her face flattened into a look of annoyance as she drew her eyes back to you and scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only noon.” She motioned toward the waiter, who appeared with her glass of Moscato and gently placed it down in front of her. “And this is my first sip of wine today.” 

“Then can you act couth?”

“I’m couth-”

“No. You look like you’re about to jump across the table and mount him.”

“And so what?” she retorted sharply, taking her glass of wine into her cold, thin fingers. “He’s young, but he’s legal, right?”

“Twenty-six,” Sukuna chimed in, watching the interaction with the utmost interest. “I’m definitely legal-”

“You’re not helping,” you snapped, turning back to your mother. “What happened to you being disgusted with his criminal record?”

“Who said I was disgusted?” She shrugged, sipping from the glass before continuing, “He’s attractive, so the record is something I can overlook. Besides, I could guess what he went away for-”

“No, no. We’re not going to do that. Contain yourself, okay? We’re here to talk about the sponsorship, so go on. I want to get this over with.” 

You reached across the table and grabbed the glass from her hands. She didn’t complain, only watched with a humored smirk as you chugged it down, desperately needing it if you intended on getting through the rest of the meal with your sanity. You set the empty glass back down, swallowing the last mouthful of alcohol before allowing the rest of the hellish interaction to commence.

The flirting didn’t stop, but worsened as your mother ordered a few more glasses of wine, passing some off to you, too. You knew better than to drink, especially with Sukuna sitting right next to you, but he didn’t even bat an eye at the amount of wine being shared between you and your mother. And really, you needed it. Your mother was insufferable as always, and having to stomach her while sober was always a feat.

They didn’t even talk about the sponsorship; instead, choosing to discuss various topics that always seemed to cater toward Sukuna’s life, with a few of your mother’s life stories scattered in between. You had been forgotten in the conversation, which wasn’t surprising in the slightest when it came to your mother. She only tolerated you when she had to, and for some reason, she felt it was necessary to attempt to tolerate you regarding your eating habits, of all things.

You knew she didn’t care about you; she only cared about herself. That much was evident as she continuously brushed you off to ask Sukuna question after question.

They ranged from meaningless questions like, “Have you ever been to Hokkaido? I went once. It was nice. I should take you next time…” to personal ones like, “Do you have a girlfriend..?” and even inappropriate ones like, “What’s your type..?” 

“Why do you even need to know that?” you interrupted upon hearing the last one.

“Curiosity.” When she spoke, she never took her eyes off the man beside you. 

And through it all, he never flinched, responding to all of them without hesitating.

“I don’t have a type.”

Your mother looked a bit disappointed to hear that. “Not even a specific age range you favor?”

You scoffed, “Seriously, what kind of-”

In true Sukuna fashion, he cut you off to snicker, “Do you want me to say I favor women your age?”

“Maybe, I do.” She hid her grin behind the wine glass. “So…?”

“So, you’re too persistent. And too tipsy, if you think I’m going to talk about that with you.”

“Is it the mixed company?” She gestured toward you.

Briefly, Sukuna caught your eyes before settling them back on your mother. Flatly, he answered, “Sure.”

You were buzzed halfway through the meal, and by the end, you were slurring your words– not that it really mattered; they weren’t giving you very many chances to talk.

And then, out of the blue, she flipped the script entirely, nearly knocking you back on your ass.

“Honestly, Sukuna, I’m surprised she even wanted you to be her sponsor. Ever since Kenny passed away-”

“Hey–woah,” you interrupted quickly, “Don’t call him that. He doesn’t like it.”

“You mean, he didn’t like it.”

You frowned– weren’t you saying the same thing? 

“Huh?”

“You said he doesn’t like it, meaning he’s still alive to give a shit.” Her emotionless tone just dug that knife– the one that was always looming right over your heart since your husband died– deeper into your chest. But what never failed to add salt to that wound was how careless she spoke about him. “He’s dead. He’s been dead. I can call him Kenny if I want, and no one can get upset about it.”

That constant sickness in your gut only worsened when the tears prickled the back of your eyes.

“Well, that’s not true,” you bit out, slightly choking on your rising emotions. “I can still get upset about it-”

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sukuna,” she began again, talking over you. “Ever since Kenny passed-”

“Mom, please-”

“She’s been distant from men. Well, except for Satoru, but he doesn’t really count. They’ve been friends since they were in diapers, so if they were going to get together in that way, it would have happened by now, you know? Not that I expect her to hook up with you– she has a type, just like I know you have. She likes them older, too. Kenny was-”

“God, can you stop-”

“Was an older gentleman. Died too soon. Pancreatic cancer–it was hereditary-” The most your drunk mind could do was let you sit there, mouth slightly parted in shock as the word vomit continued to spill past her lips. “It was slow. We all had to watch it happen. Kinda sad. And not to sound rude, but he made the holidays a bit depressing, so it was almost a relief when he finally passed. I know she feels the same-”

“I do not.” Finally, she shut her mouth, but only long enough to watch a singular tear slip down your cheek. “How could you say that?”

“Because it’s true. He was suffering, and you know it. It was exhausting for you to take care of him, and that’s why when he let go, you took it so hard. You finally had the chance to process it, and it happened so fast and all at once.” The way she was able to speak about it so nonchalantly was horrifying. As if to reason with you, she placed her hand over yours. “Look, I’m not doubting that you loved the man. It’s okay to say you were relieved-”

“I wasn’t relieved,” you hissed, yanking your hand away from her. “I was fucking devastated.”

She sighed and retracted her hand, too, bringing it to her plate to grab her fork again. “Well, two things can be true at the same time. That’s why you’re in therapy. The courts suggested it. Did you know that, Sukuna? She grieved so hard that a judge had to tell her to seek help– I suppose you know how that is, don’t you? Actually, I’m curious. What made you turn to drinking? And is that what landed you in jail? I bet it is.”

For the first time since she started ranting about your past, Sukuna spoke, quietly asking, “How in the hell is that any of your business?”

Your mother glanced up from her plate of food, taken aback by the question. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, aren’t we? I thought we were bonding over trauma. You two seem to have a lot of it.”

“You must’ve been mistaken. I’m not here to bond with you over anything, and I’m definitely not here to listen to you trauma-dump all of your shitty mothering on me either. Why I decided to drink is none of your fucking business, and if you’re so curious about my record, you can walk your happy ass down to the courthouse to check.”

“Alright. Good. You do have a backbone.” 

She nodded to herself, agreeing with some mental conversation, while shoving a forkful of food into her mouth. She placed the silverware down to rummage through her purse. Pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen a few times before turning the device around to shove it into Sukuna’s hands. You both glanced down at it, seeing she had pulled up a blank contact.

“What’s this for?” he questioned, growing irritated with her. 

“Put your contact information in there. If you’re going to be her sponsor, I’ll need to be able to reach you to discuss her progress-

Sukuna scoffed and slid her phone across the table to her. “Fuck that. I’m not her fucking babysitter. If you want to discuss her progress, ask her yourself. She’s an adult-”

“But she’s still my child, so if you’re going to be her sponsor, I’ll need to be able to contact you.” 

With a growing scowl, Sukuna begrudgingly took the phone back to type in his information. “Use it sparingly. I don’t get that many minutes a month,” he grumbled.

* * * 

“Your mother is a bitch.”

“Yep,” you sniffled, wiping at your face while accidentally stumbling into Sukuna’s side as he walked you out of the restaurant. When you raised your keys to unlock your car, Sukuna quickly grabbed them and shoved them into his own pocket. “Hey! What the hell?”

“Are you fucking dumb? You’re drunk.”

“I wasn’t going to drive, asshole. I was going to sit there to sober up.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Fine. Then you can drive me home.”

“And that’s not happening either. We are going to walk.”

You cocked a brow. “Oh, are we?”

“Yes, we are. You can’t even stand up straight, and you think I trust you to get home by yourself? You’d probably walk out in the middle of the street. Or fall and bust your head open. Or get kidnapped.” 

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the sidewalk. When he roughly manhandled you to take the side furthest from the road, you fought against him, tutting, “Didn’t take you for such a gentleman.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t take you for such a lush.”

“Wow! That’s fucking funny coming from you,” you gasped, shoving at him to create distance, only the shove knocked you off balance, and you fell backward. To save yourself a bruised tailbone, you latched onto the first thing you could, which just so happened to be his coat. You threw his balance with your grasp, but rather than letting you drag both of you to the ground, he managed to pivot the position, forcing you up against the brick wall instead. 

He watched the little puffs of your breath crystallize in the cold air, then at your lips when you spoke again. “You’re the drunk here, Sukuna. Not me.”

You hadn’t let go of his coat. In fact, you were dragging him closer, something you definitely hadn’t realized yet, but Sukuna had. 

He was so close to your mouth, where the scent of the wine still lingered– he was so sure your tongue still tasted like Moscato that he was seconds away from betting his AA chip on it. 

But the prize for winning the bet was the same as losing– he’d be relapsing. Maybe not literally, but he was certain it counted somewhere, and there is no way he was fucking relapsing in any sense of the word because of you. 

Through gritted teeth, he snapped, “Well, this drunk is sober right now, and you’re not. So, let me take you home before you get charged with public intoxication.”

“That sounds sexual.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing sexual about that charge.”

“Not that part, stupid. I meant taking me home.”

Sukuna went still, blinking down at you before grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away. Tiredly, he asked, “What the fuck are you even going on about? I’m taking you home to make sure you don’t die. That’s it. Now, let’s go.” He harshly pulled you off the wall and led you down the sidewalk, taking his place by the road just in case you decided to trip over your own feet, which ended up happening a few times, until Sukuna stopped you. “Are you seriously that out of it that you can’t walk straight?”

Your smile was sloppy as you slurred, “I’m a lightweight.”

“Yeah. I can fucking tell.” His eyes honed in on your lips, glazed over with something he wanted to taste so fucking badly. “Goddamn… idiot,” he cursed under his breath a few more times before turning around. “Get on my back.”

“Oh, wow,” you gasped, “My noble steed-”

“I’ll fucking kill you. Get on my back.”

You giggled but did as he ordered you to, pressing your thighs into his waist while wrapping your arms around his neck. You were useless after that, leaving him to do the rest while you rested your cheek against his shoulder.

“You know, you’re kinda nice-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m being serious,” you snickered. “You act like a total asshole sometimes, but then you carry me home when I’m too drunk to walk. And you hold doors open for me, and you don’t let me walk too close to the road. And you give me your coat to kneel on so I can suck your dick.” Lazily, you leaned your cheek into the crook of his neck to get closer. Unbeknownst to you, your lips were brushing right over Sukuna’s pulse, but Sukuna noticed; even biting back the hitch in his breath when you mumbled, “And you’re so nice that you agree to be my sponsor, even if we are strangers.”

He swallowed thickly and tried his best to lean away from your touch, which was difficult with you wrapped around him. “We’re not so much strangers anymore. Your mom kinda spilled your whole life story, remember?”

You snorted. “Yeah. She did. Such a bitch.”

“Mm,” he hummed in agreement. 

He didn’t like you, but having to watch your own mother drag you down like that, ignoring any sort of boundary you’d created, made even his skin crawl. No one deserved to be embarrassed like that.

“What about your mom?”

Sukuna worked hard to not draw attention to how that question had him faltering in place. “What about her?”

“Is she a bitch, too?”

“Why do you care?”

You groaned, “Come on. Tell me stories. Unless you have a dead spouse that we can bond over instead.”

“Fuck– what is it with you women wanting to bond with me? Maybe I’m not fucking interested.”

“Okay, but I’m super drunk. What are the chances I remember any of this stuff anyway?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Still doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”

“Oh, my god! Please! Please-!”

“Fuck, fine. Yes, my mother…” he relented, but only to get you to shut your mouth. You had no volume control when you were intoxicated, and your mouth was right by his ear–lips so close to grazing it, but… he shouldn’t think about that. Not when your legs were wrapped around his waist, ankles brushing his jeans with every few steps, and most importantly, not when he was talking about his dead mother. “She was– is a bitch, too. Sometimes.”

“Yeah? What’d she do?”

“None of your business-”

“Please! Please, please, please!” 

It was here that things got iffy with Sukuna’s integrity. He had become well accustomed to being nagged. Be it through his jobs or his little brother, Sukuna could deal with annoying little brats. Granted, he was never good at it, but he managed. 

However, the difference comes in when your ‘please, please, please’ started sounding a little too breathless and was brushing up the back of his neck, paired with the way you were slurring his name– he caved, because as it’s been mentioned before, having a boner while talking about his dead mother is something he would need to unpack in therapy, and unfortunately, his therapist has been ghosting him for a few years.

“Please, Kuna. Please-”

“Holy fuck, you’re annoying,” he exhaled a shaky breath, hoping to feign irritation. “She uh… she left me. When I was eleven.”

“Oh? Where’d she go?”

He scoffed, “Hell, probably.”

His dry, flat tone had you quietly giggling. “So, she left you, and now she’s off doing all the things she’s wanted to do, even though she could have taken you with her. Fucking sucks, huh? My dad did the same thing to me, only he left me with the actual spawn of satan.” You hummed out another laugh. “Sometimes I like to imagine what he does– like… realistically. It’s hard; there’s not much I remember about him because he left when I was so young. Usually, I just picture him having another family that he actually loves. Makes me bitter sometimes.”

“Yeah, I bet it does,” he tutted at you, bringing you to grin.

“Alright, so what do you think your mom is doing? Raising her second family?”

She’s definitely not raising a second family. Not when the first one took the will to live out of her completely. 

Unlike you, Sukuna knows exactly what his mother would be doing if she were alive, because it’s the same thing she always did. 

Day in, day out, week after week, month after month, year after year, until she finally broke.

* * * 

Twenty Years Ago

Sukuna’s eyes were scratchy. Irritated. Red and puffy. Wet, too. Filled with salty tears that slipped down his cheeks and soaked into the sleeve of his mother’s shoulder as she lulled the six-year-old boy to sleep in her rocking chair. 

It was working. His eyelids were growing heavier and heavier. And with no other noise interrupting him, save for the gentle afternoon breeze that lofted in from the open window, he was on the cusp of passing out. It wasn’t until he heard his mother’s voice that he pried his eyes open wide again.

“You know why you were spanked, don’t you?” Kaori quietly asked, nearly whispering while rubbing her hand up and down her son’s back in a delicate motion.

Equally as quiet, Sukuna replied, “Because I yelled at you. I said mean things.”

“And?”

Sukuna’s eyes flicked to the open window, seeing that the tree just outside wasn’t so empty anymore– the birds had returned. That sight in itself made him feel so relieved. “And because I scared away the birds.”

“That’s right. Mommy likes to watch them, so we have to be quiet here. We don’t want to startle them, do we?”

“No.” He watched the blue birds flit through the small branches, playing around with one another, before he sighed. Sukuna relaxed against his mother completely, and in the quietest whisper, he mumbled, “I like watching the birds, too.”

“That’s good to hear.” She dragged a hand through his pinkish hair, softly scratching at his scalp as the two of them watched the birds in the tree.

“They’re pretty.”

“They are,” she answered timidly, humming happily under her breath.

The moment continued on like that, luring the boy closer and closer to sleep. Just before it could overcome him, he whispered, “I love you.” 

The rocking chair stilled, his mother froze, and the air took on a colder feel. It startled the boy just enough that he flinched.

When the rub of her hands up and down his spine resumed, it was with a harder touch. He let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding when the rocking chair started moving again.

“And you love me as I love you?” he questioned, “Don’t you, Mom?”

A few seconds of silence ate up the room, replacing it with a tension that no six-year-old boy should know. Yet, he waited for it with an eagerness he shouldn’t feel.

“I love you, Sukuna,” she muttered, “but only sometimes.”

That almost felt like it was enough, and to Sukuna at that time, maybe it was.

“Is it one of those times right now?”

Kaori giggled quietly. “Of course, it is, silly. I let you inside my room, didn’t I?”

* * * 

His mother was sick. Sukuna knows that now.

But it never dulled the sting those memories left behind.

“Uh, hello? Are you gonna answer-”

He let out a huff and responded with, “Bird watching. She… liked– likes birds.”

“Mm, like Kento,” you mumbled, nestling into his neck. “Is she the one who taught you about birds?”

With his mind still reeling a bit, working overtime to suppress the ache in his chest, he didn’t process your question fast enough. “Huh?”

“Your mom. Did she teach you about birds? About bluebirds and birds that are blue, but aren’t bluebirds. Remember? We talked-”

“I remember,” he huffed, “And no, she didn’t. It was someone else.”

You murmured softly, “You know, I still don’t know what kind of bird is in that painting at my apartment.”

“Have you even looked into it? It’s a common one.”

“No. Wish you’d just tell me.”

“Where’s the challenge in that? Don’t you want to figure it out on your own?”

“Not really. Bird watching is boring.”

“You don’t even have to watch them,” he muttered, reaffirming his hold on your legs when you started to slip.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. You don’t have to watch them. Your husband was into the hobby, wasn’t he? Look through one of his books.”

“Mm, I could do that. If I cared enough.”

He exhaled, “Whatever,” and dropped the subject entirely. 

* * * 

A couple of weeks passed since that interaction, and Sukuna hadn’t heard from you again, nor had he seen you on Wednesday evenings when he’d show up to his meeting just a bit early. He also hadn’t heard about you from Yuji. 

And trust that he wasn’t concerned about that in the slightest. If anything, it was a nice break. Really, he wasn’t bothered whatsoever. Not even the tiniest bit curious to know what was eating up your time. He seriously didn’t even want to hear about you. Like at all-

“How’s your science class going?” Sukuna asked when he heard his brother’s feet start down the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder at him before returning his attention to the vegetables he was cutting up for dinner.

Yuji halted in the hallway upon his brother’s question. With a confused expression, the teen turned around to answer, “Uh, it’s fine?” His eyes trailed to the side as he pondered his thoughts. “Well, I did fail the last quiz, but Sensei is letting me retake it.”

“Mm,” Sukuna hummed, pretending to be more interested in the carrot he was dicing than he was in his own question, but he wasn’t sure if he was doing that to convince himself or Yuji. “What was the test over?”

Still perplexed, he cautiously said, “Cells.”

Sukuna snorted, “You failed a quiz about cells? The most basic biological concept-”

“Yeah, and what about it? It’s not like you know all about them anyway.”

He snickered, “I definitely know more than you.”

“You just think you’re so smart because you went to college, don’t you?”

With the reminder of that particular white lie he’d told his brother, Sukuna’s stomach twisted up. Sukuna didn’t go to college; he went to prison, but there was something about having to tell Yuji that the person he looked up to is actually a felon that Sukuna didn’t feel like doing. 

So, yes, Sukuna lied. And, no, he didn’t feel good about this one.

He internally shook off the guilt. “I was smart before I went to college, brat.”

“Well, Sensei says I’m really smart. One of the smartest in the class.”

“Yet you failed the quiz anyway.” Over his shoulder, his eyes flicked to his brother. “So, maybe your sensei is a liar. Or maybe she just didn’t want to hurt your feelings by calling you stupid.”

Yuji’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath, his face turning red with his rising anger. “Sensei is not a liar, and I’m not stupid. Screw you.”

It was easy to see that the teen’s temper was starting to get the better of him, and a meltdown was sure to ensue if Sukuna kept pestering him. So, rather than caving into the brotherly instincts that told him to instigate a fight, he leaned into his role as Yuji’s caretaker instead.

“You know I’m kidding. You’re not stupid, Yuji.” The redness in the teen’s face mellowed out. Sukuna returned to the task at hand before continuing, “But you do need to start paying attention in that class. If you fail science now, you’ll just have to make it up next year. The same goes for the rest of your classes, too.” 

He made sure to tack that last part on just so the teen wouldn’t suspect anything– though, he probably wouldn’t. Yuji had his head in the clouds most of the time, and Sukuna wasn’t going to do anything to change that. If Yuji were ignorant of the travesty that is their life, he wouldn’t have to contemplate why their parents are both dead, why their grandfather is dying, and why the only person in the world who can take care of him is Sukuna, which he will admit, he’s shit at. He’s hoping Yuji won’t notice any time soon.

“Yeah,” the teen began, “maybe I should start going to tutoring. It’s helping Fushiguro big time.”

Sukuna ignored the way his stomach twisted in anticipation of dropping Yuji off at your apartment again. “There’s an idea.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Sure.”

As Yuji retreated down the hallway, Sukuna’s phone buzzed in his pocket. With a huff, he pulled it out to scan through the notifications, finding the one at the top was from a number he hadn’t saved.

Unknown Number: Your sponsee isn’t answering my phone calls. 

Well, it didn’t take too long to figure out who it came from. He rolled his eyes, saving the number to his phone before responding. 

Sukuna: What do you want me to do about it?

Your mother’s reply was quick, ‘Figure out why she isn’t answering and have her call me ASAP’

Sukuna: I’m her sponsor, not her keeper. 

The final message was to the point, ‘Same thing. Do as I told you.’

And as much as Sukuna hated being told what to do, his growing interest in what you were up to was getting to him. But it’s not because he cares, okay? It’s… morbid curiosity. That’s all.

He didn’t grace your mother with a response and instead pocketed his phone. She was lucky Sukuna wasn’t busy tonight, since his shift at the dock was cancelled due to the snow. That meant he had the time to walk to your apartment and make sure you weren’t dead, but he’d only be doing so after he finished dinner for his brother.

He knew you were fine, probably just actively ignoring your mother and grading papers. There was even a chance you were marking Yuji’s failed quiz down at that very moment. 

So, he didn’t rush.

He took his time plating Yuji’s food nicely, calling him out of his room, giving him the excuse of needing to buy more cigarettes before he locked up and stepped outside. The walk to your apartment wasn’t that far, just a few blocks away. But a few blocks in the snow made time pass more slowly.

He kept his head down as he trekked forward, finding himself growing really irritated with you for ignoring your mother to the point she had to reach out to Sukuna– why couldn’t you just answer her? Now, you’ve made this his problem. Sure, he didn’t have to deal with it, but some innate part of him felt like it was his responsibility now. 

You two made a deal, after all.

Halfway to your apartment, he started regretting agreeing to help you. 

A dry handjob for this? Wet boots and wind-burnt skin– yeah, he should go back on his side of the deal. It wasn’t worth it.

He grumbled curses under his breath, growing angrier and angrier the closer he got. 

Fuck morbid curiosity, he didn’t even want to know you anymore. Never wanted to see you or hear from you again for making him do this shit.

And as he thought about all the ways his life would be better if you weren’t in it, there was a change of air quality that made him come to a halt.

The acrid scent of smoke tickled his nose, making him look up from his snow-covered boots and to the sky, where thick gray plumes were filling the air, the origin of them coming from your apartment. 

Well, what was left of it anyway.

master list || next chapter

author's note: sorry this took a little longer to come out! I got hit with my period and a cold at the same time, and to make matters worse, I also didn't have my ADHD medication, and my New Year's resolution was to stop smoking, so I've been dealing with that, too. I was literally nursing a headache for days and had no motivation to do anything other than read and sleep, but I'm better now! There's also a big winter storm coming in, so I'm gonna be tucked inside for days (hopefully). The next chapter shouldn't take too long for me to finish :) very sorry about the cliffhanger, btw! I didn't want to cut it off there, but the chapter would have been like super long if I hadn't. But I can promise that no one of importance is hurt!

tag list is closed :)

@chloe022r @yarimarjane @rinofcike @sueboo503 @juiceboxluvr

@brazzigy @sakuracream @ane5e @niragiscumslut @cherry-peach-flavored

@crystalferret202 @marcelinebtw @sukubusss @sincerely-kaiii @kusluv

@s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e @goldiesoaked @seellove @sukusdoll @casssiesthings

@supersoftfox @lucy-lulu @bam-boozledx @murakamisblog @choerryp1e

@cherrycokeline @sayakosama @jkslvsnella @chiaramartyna @honeychained

@babucakes @sempiternalmyth @rxtrovillans @seraph1nxx @jlovesyuuji

@onlykuna @grignardsreagent @ayookeikooo @levisthirdleg @dolliedee3

@ilovemacandcheese @pillowprincess4him @littleanaangel @hannahzg8

perm tags: @man1cslut @shrewdreader

[w0rm3y]

Hey wormy! I'm not trying to pressure you, but I'm just really curious when the next part of swallow is gonna come! Really missing it ahaha

Hii! I'm really sorry it's late! I kinda got hit with a lot of life stuff all at once, so sitting down to write has been a challenge. I have been slowly working on it, and so far, I have 4k words down. I'm going to try to get most of it finished today, so hopefully it will be ready by the end of this week :)

[starmapz]

what you know - ch24: gravity

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. self-loathing. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). medical content. minor descriptions of wounds. mentions of arachnids. withdrawal. pet names. oral (f! receiving). p in v. nipple play. fingering. neck kissing. marking. body worship. size difference. praise. aftercare.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6'11".

❦ words ; 29.1k.

❦ a/n ; was listening to free by mother mother while writing much of this, thought some of you may enjoy listening to it as well :)

main masterlist || series masterlist || ⏮ prev || next ⏭ - coming soon

The realization that withdrawal is a cruel beast would sneak up on Sukuna sooner than he could have hoped.

As the sun creeps over the horizon, slipping through the blinds and coloring the wall in golden stripes, the brute groans at the staunch ache in his head. His limbs are heavy, ridden with an itch that spreads across every inch of his skin. There’s really no better word to describe the feeling than simply uncomfortable.

He rolls back, dropping his arms down to the mattress when he’s surprised to find something preventing his arm from touching the mattress. Squinting harshly at the early sun invading his vision, he twists to find you still curled up beneath the covers, facing away from him.

For a moment, that’s all the world is. Your soft breaths, a glimpse at your bare skin as his shirt rides up over your waist, your hair mussed with sleep.

You look beautiful.

He blinks, grateful he didn’t awaken you in his restless state. He brushes his finger down your upper arm, sliding his hand down to your elbow as you temporarily relieve the crawling sensation under his skin, giving him something else to focus on. He savors it for as long as he can, his gaze dragging over your form with deliberate care.

He keeps himself within that bubble until it threatens to burst, giving his mind an out from the craving threatening to pull him back into its clutches. He yearns to wrap himself around you, shut his eyes and wait for his heart to sync with yours as the waking world lets him fall from its grasp; but the discomfort sitting on the backburner lurks at the corners of his mind, and he knows this moment can only last so long.

He knew it would come, Uraume had warned him what it would be like based on the few times they’d tried to quit. An itch you can’t scratch, the constant cravings, hunger, restlessness, irritability. They hadn’t warned him about the pounding behind his head, nor the anxiety. Though he supposes symptoms likely differ.

But fuck, he could do without those two.

As the bubble bursts and everything creeps over him like a shadow, he rolls to his side in hopes that the headache might lessen.

It’s all in vain. If anything, it’s worse on his side and he rolls onto his back again, taking a deep breath. He can physically feel the tremor now. Or maybe it’s the itch, but it crawls and scuttles up to his chest with that horrific sensation that he’s choking.

Fuck, maybe he should have waited to do this until he felt more prepared. Until he was more secure in his relationship with you, and maybe he could have taken some time off.

But he’d wrongly assumed he could handle this.

Throwing the covers off, he glances back once more at you before heading into the living space and shutting the door behind him. His gaze washes over the living room; scattered blankets piled on the couch and the pillow thrown to the floor, the table pulled out from the wall with the candle now dormant and flowers awaiting the warmth of the arriving sun.

Staring out onto the balcony sends a fresh chill over his skin that has him recoiling as he’s reminded of smoking. Balling his hands into fists, he heads for the Ibuprofen cabinet in an effort to cure at least the headache. Grabbing whatever drink hits his hand first, he downs the pill and drink, wrinkling his nose when he stares down at whatever he just swallowed.

Expired orange juice.

Great.

Dumping it down the drain, he haphazardly tosses the carton atop the counter and takes a seat at the table, harshly rubbing his forehead in an effort to stop the incessant pounding.

Even as it lessens slightly over drawn out minutes, the sensation never fully dulls. Worse still, it leaves behind a dizzying sensation that he thinks might be even worse.

His morning is a slog. Slow, scattered, and distant.

Texting Uraume to ask how they dealt with it.

Cleaning up a dish.

Sitting down.

Growing frustrated.

Staring out the window.

Remembering the half-finished smokes are in the garbage under the sink.

Playing what feels like a losing game against his brain.

Putting away a dish.

Damn near losing his patience over dropping a sponge.

Sitting.

Standing.

Dishes.

Being informed that the feeling should pass in a few days.

Such bullshit.

Sitting again.

Pacing.

Going outside.

Coming back inside.

“Kuna?”

Just as he steps through the threshold from the balcony, he finds you still wrapped in the comforter from atop his bed. Your hair is a mess, your makeup is smudged across your cheeks, and your eyes are barely open.

You look like everything he could ever want in life.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I heard the door and you weren’t in bed,” you murmur, yawning into the blanket you have cocooned around yourself.

He sighs, scratching the back of his neck, but that itch never quite leaves. “Go back to bed, princess. ‘M just cleaning up a bit.”

You peer past him at the kitchen, though you don’t see any disarray for him to clean. The living room is back in order with a blanket messily folded and set on the cushions, the table has been pushed back into place and the water for the flowers has been topped up.

He’s been up for longer than he’s letting on. You know he’s an early riser, but that’s always been courtesy of the kids, who are still sound asleep given that the sun is barely peeking over the horizon and it’s been doing that earlier these days.

“Come back with me?”

Your request is soft, warm, and inviting. Your voice is thick with sleep and Sukuna yearns for the reality that lets him slip back under the sheets with you, but he knows the incessant discomfort won’t allow him that serenity.

Caught within a multitude of frustrations, it pisses him off.

He presses a thumb to his temple, tight-lipped as he shakes his head. “Don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

Clutching the blanket tighter around yourself, you drag it across the floor until you’re standing right in front of him. If your narrowed eyes are anything to go off of, you’re ready to call his bluff. Slipping your hand out from between the blankets, he recognizes the pointed shove that you’re about to give him, as though he might fall over with a little encouragement.

He didn’t think he looked that tired.

He doesn’t feel that tired.

But truthfully he’s not really sure what exactly he’s feeling.

He just knows that the last thing he wants is for the string holding him together right now to be pulled any tighter.

Grabbing your wrist before you can make your point, he huffs out a long and heavy sigh. “Angel, I don’t think I have the patience for this right now and I don’t wanna snap.”

You blink up at him, but you don’t recoil or pull back. No, because this is improvement. This is communication. You can see now that this is the sharp side of him, the one that bristles under pressure and snarls when you poke it. You’re not sure what’s brought this out, but that’s okay, because growth doesn’t happen overnight.

So… “What’s wrong?”

He inhales, his grip on your arm shifting as the tension from his body releases. His hand slides up your arm, fingers curling around your elbow as he gently tugs you towards him. Your warmth seeps into him, his shirt still cool from the early morning air as the faint smell of the city clings to him.

The harsh smell of smoke that would usually trail after him has faded, though.

And you figure you might have your answer there.

He holds you tight to his chest, his muscles rippling with each breath as though he can’t let go of the tension within them. “It’s not your fault,” he starts reassuringly, “just can’t sit still,” he grumbles in harsh contrast to the gentle nature with which he rubs your back over the thick blankets. You can’t really feel it, but the sentiment is there. “Everything is getting to me. The cars, the birds, even the fuckin’ fridge is pissing me off,” he sighs.

“Is it the withdrawal?” You query.

“I hope so,” he jokes frailly.

“I remember Suguru avoided everyone for the first few days after he quit. He said something similar,” you offer.

He nods, lowering his head and burying it in your hair. He was joking last night about getting his fix, but truthfully this is the only moment since he first awoke where the static of the world seems to stop. Maybe you are his fix after all.

“I can manage a couple of days,” Sukuna begrudgingly mutters into your hair, shutting his eyes.

Your voice has a muffled quality as you speak against his chest. “What’s it like?”

He searches for words for a moment. “Just… shitty. A little itchy. Don’t wanna do anything but I can’t sit still.” Headache. Cravings. Hunger.

“Did you get any sleep after you woke up from the nightmare?” You yawn against his chest.

“A little. Having you there helped.”

Warmth floods your chest. You nuzzle your face against his chest, earning a satisfied hum from deep within. His chest vibrates against your cheek. “I’m glad,” you murmur softly. “None of us are going anywhere, you know.”

His chest rises and falls. As much as he fears snapping at you, your presence in his arms is the steadiest he’s felt since dawn broke. “I know. Just feels like if I blink, everything will slip away.”

You kiss his chest. It’s terribly sweet and melts away another ounce of his tension. “We’re not going anywhere. None of us,” you assure him, your tone heartening in spite of the adorably sleepy lilt it also shares. “And if anything happens, you’ve got me, Toji, Uraume, Satoru, and everyone else in your corner.”

The silence that follows is neither heavy nor light. Something in between, like a bird ready to take flight. Finally, he sighs. His hand resumes its movement up and down your back. You smile against his chest as he settles.

“I can’t convince you to come back to bed?”

“I don’t wanna keep you awake.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your weight slumping against him. “I don’t think you could,” you admit, another yawn warming his skin through the cotton of his shirt. It sends a chill up his spine.

He squeezes you tighter. Whether he’s trying to keep you warm or trying to steal your body heat for himself, he can’t be sure. What he does know is that you’ve given him something to focus on, something that isn’t the cravings, the discomfort, or the rattling. So with a soft “alright,” he gives in and tucks you into his side as he heads back with you to his bedroom.

Rather than spreading the blanket across the bed, you invite him into the cocoon of blankets you’ve procured. Limbs tangle together as warmth washes back over you.

He supposes you were right to assume that he couldn’t keep you up. You’re asleep before there’s even a sheep to be herded, let alone counted.

Curled around you once more, your words and actions stick with him. The fact that you didn’t pull away, you weren’t hurt when he dissuaded your teasing. He didn’t fuck things up for once. For all of his irritability, for all of the jitteriness slinking deep within his bones, he went about things the right way, and there’s relief to be found within that.

Like a mantra, he repeats the moment in his mind. Your gentle understanding, the warmth of your frame around his. The way your fingers clutch his shirt and he feels like he actually has something to give, whether it be warmth or comfort. There’s security within the fact that he doesn’t feel like he’s sucking the life from you any longer.

It isn’t all at once, but gradually the crawling dulls. The buzzing outside fades. The golden strips on the wall become a distant memory. And with each passing moment, the restless shuffling of Sukuna’s limbs settles until he finds peace again.

–

Every day that follows your date, Sukuna grows increasingly thankful that you convinced him to hop back in bed with you that morning.

By the third day of withdrawal, he’s running on fumes. Insomnia follows him like an old friend. A cold sweat clings to him, his skin slick with moisture that makes every movement feel sticky. His limbs are heavy and his mind is laden with a dense fog that only seems to heighten his frustrations.

The cravings are intense. It presents like a hunger that never dies as much as he eats, only to realize it’s all a trick of the mind. He’s dying for the subtle buzz nicotine provides and his body is begging him to rummage through the trash like some sort of animal in search of scraps.

He very seriously contemplates it at the dinner table one night.

The only thing keeping him in check is Uraume’s reassurance that once you’re past the first few days, it’s all a mental game and the physical rattling dulls. That, he can handle.

It’s the ache, the sweat, the itch. The exhaustion that doesn’t give way to sleep, making his limbs drag and leaving his mind on edge– that’s what he can’t take much more of.

It all comes to a head by the end of the third day when the kids’ door slams shut not once, but twice.

The first– Yuji. The second– Choso.

He stands in the kitchen, every little sound grating him down to his last nerve until there’s nothing left. Within the nothing– that’s when the guilt seeps in.

And he can’t tell if he hates the irritability and anger of his withdrawal or the guilt that bolts him to the ground like tar more. Really, what does it matter when they both lead to the same outcome?

The guilt is sobering, though. It pulls back the curtains on his symptoms just long enough for Sukuna to realize how much of an asshole he really is. It only makes it harder to keep holding out when one hit could bring him back to the median and keep him from pulling stupid shit like this.

Especially when just the other day he felt he’d been better. He supposes recovery and growth are never a linear path, but it still pisses him off.

His real saving grace though? You.

He pulls his phone out without thinking, scrolling to your messages. The past few days since you left his apartment the morning after your date have been spent texting non-stop. A constant back and forth of little moments in which you think about one another, discussions about the kids and plans for more dates. You passed your exams with flying colors– to no one’s surprise– and have been caught up in graduation preparations (well, preparations for Satoru’s final hurrah) and signing on full-time to the publishing house.

Life won’t slow down for either of you, but fuck he wishes it would. As he stares at your latest message, nothing more than an affirmation that you’re getting cozy in bed to read, he can only pray that you have a moment. His thumb doesn’t hesitate over the call button anymore.

You pick up on the second ring.

“Hey Kuna, how are you feeling?” Your voice is light, but edged with concern. He supposes he doesn’t call often.

Laying on his back in bed, his knee bouncing with anxiety, he lets out a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice. “Long day,” he admits. It’s roundabout, but it’s an admission in its own right.

Your shuffling on the other line might be the only static that doesn’t piss him off. Maybe he’s just that desperate to hear your voice. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yes. “No.” Not yet. “Tell me about work.”

He can’t see your eyes narrow at the strained quality his voice has, but you oblige nonetheless. “Okay, so I told Yuki this morning that I passed all of my exams, and she seemed super excited,” you begin enthusiastically. He can hear you adjust again, practically able to envision you sitting up to excitedly tell him about Maya pulling you into her office to offer you a full-time position now that you’re officially graduating.

His eyes shut, and for a moment he has something to focus on. Something grounding and real that helps him ignore the sweat pooling at his lower back. He clings to every word like a lifeline, humming along to let you know he’s listening, congratulating you as your story comes to a close.

You notice his relative silence over the matter, though you don’t take it to heart. You know his last few days have been a stark contrast to yours, but you keep reminding him how proud you are that he’s working on himself. You hope it helps.

When he doesn’t offer much on his own day, you figure he just wants to hear your voice.

“Hey, um– my grad’s on Thursday. I know you’re probably working since it’s at eleven, but I kept a ticket for you.” You don’t mean to sound so sheepish, but a part of you hopes he can make it anyway, even if you don’t expect it given his busy schedule. “You’d be sitting with Sho, if you can make it.”

“Your parents not taking your tickets?”

“No,” you reply softly, bittersweet. “They can’t make it out here for it. Shoko’s gonna record it for them.”

He hums, recalling brief mentions that your parents couldn’t make it out here when you were struggling with your scholarship. “Promise when my head’s a little more clear, I’ll see what I can do, princess. I wanna be there.”

Your smile can’t be contained. “Thanks, Kuna.”

You appreciate both his communication that he’s out of it right now and the effort he puts into responding regardless. You appreciate that he’s trying.

He still remains relatively quiet, completely still aside from the rattle of cloth that you’re positive is his foot shaking. You move along, telling him about Satoru’s final frat party bash plans and how you’ve been roped in to handling the decorations with Kento, who has no opinion on the matter. Sukuna chuckles, sympathizing with the blonde in spite of your playful whine.

But with every passing moment, you begin to realize something is off. You know your crush is out of it. You know he’s got everything and nothing on his mind all at once, but the everything portion seems to weigh him down more heavily now.

“Hey,” you keep your tone light, but offer him the floor. “Is something wrong?”

His leg is still bouncing. You can hear the shuffle through the receiver, though it’s louder now.

“...I snapped at Yuji today.”

He can’t see your frown, but he feels it. “What happened?” Your tone remains judgement-free and he swears that the pet name ‘angel’ becomes more and more fitting by the day.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Not really. I was just in a bad fuckin’ mood and he picked a fight with Cho.” Rubbing a hand over his face, he swaps the hand his phone sits in. “They were playing a game and Choso chose the character he wanted or something.” He settles his arm over his forehead, grateful as it blocks the warm glow of the lamp. “Cho gave up the character, but he wasn’t having it for some reason.”

He sighs, but it doesn’t relieve an ounce of tension.

“I dunno. I had a headache and was tryin’ to cook potatoes, chicken, n’ gravy at the same time and I’d already told them to figure it out themselves. He started pulling my sleeve and I dropped the spoon and gravy went everywhere and–” His arm plops to the mattress in exasperation, the sharp sound audible as it seems to sum up how exactly the night went for Sukuna.

You can hear the disappointment in his voice. He knows he’s better, that he’s grown, that he tries not to let genuine anger into his home any longer. This slipped through the cracks that once seeped with smoke and now he’s left in a pool of guilt.

And sweat.

He rolls his shoulder, adjusting as if it might help the way his sheets stick to his skin. “Worst part is things were good. We just got back from Cho’s therapy and he told me he thinks he’s ready to be on his own.” A brief pause. “Figuratively. With a babysitter. He’s mad at me too now, though.”

There’s an airy hum from your side of the call. “Choso doesn’t like when you and Yuji fight,” you agree. “Were you really upset with Yuji?”

“A little.” His brow knits. “Not really. Just frustrated.”

“You think it was the withdrawal?”

“Yeah. Fuck, I think. I hope so.”

Your lips twitch, sympathy in the form of a tight-lipped smile that he can’t see. “Did you apologize?”

“No. The kid wouldn’t understand why I’m in a bad mood. It’s a shit excuse anyway.”

“He probably doesn’t understand why you were so angry with him either way. What matters most now is how you handle it.”

His crimson gaze slides across the ceiling, allowing your words to hang within the silence. He blinks slowly, tears blurring his vision when he fights off a yawn. Rubbing at his eyes, he sighs. “You’re too good at this shit, y’know that?”

“Have I ever mentioned that Kento’s mom was a psychiatrist?”

“No, but that makes a lot of fucking sense.”

You giggle on the other line. “Yeah, I think I got a headstart on this sort of stuff.”

He cracks a hint of a smile. It bears a five o’clock shadow like no other and barely hangs on by a thread, but it’s the first one he’s managed in days. With a breathy exhale in shared amusement, he drapes his arm back over his eyes. “Guess I should go talk to him.”

“Things will work out,” you assure him.

“Thanks, angel.”

“Let me know how it goes. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Mhm.”

“Take care, Kuna.”

The hard edge of withdrawal softens briefly as he exists within your world’s embrace. “You too, princess.”

He lets you hang up first, his thumb hovering over the red button for longer than he’d care to admit. The reality of stumbling through an apology feels harder without you to cushion it.

In the short time since he snapped, shame has already made itself a home within his chest. A nest made of jagged branches settled between his vitals. He doesn’t know how to rid himself of it without scathing his lungs– or worse– his heart. Particularly when every branch has a thorn that reminds him just how the little boy sees him.

The kid’s dad. A subtle reminder of something he fears he can never provide for a soul as genuine as Yuji’s.

He curls his fingers around the first branch anyway. Wiping sweat from his brow, he tears through the shame and makes his way to the door that slammed an hour ago.

Twice.

The floor creaks beneath his heavy gaited steps, alerting the boys of his presence without a doubt, but he still hesitates to rap his knuckles against the door. Sucking in a breath, he lets the sound echo within the silence of the apartment.

Without your voice to focus on, the anxiety creeps in. Particularly when he’s met with a complete absence of a reaction. Pale, his knuckles still rest against the door. His head falls, staring at the hardwood beneath his feet, scratched and worn from where their door hangs a bit too low on the hinges. He shuffles from foot to foot, restless.

Your voice no longer provides him sanctity from his symptoms, which creep up over his shoulders. He rolls them, as if to rid himself of the sensation, but it remains steady and unrelenting.

Rubbing harshly at the dull ache behind his eyes, he pushes through and knocks on the door again. “C’mon, I know you’re both in there. You can keep being mad at me, just let me in.”

Choso’s ambivalent scowl greets him after a moment. A storm brews behind his eyes, as heavy as the gravity that pulls Sukuna’s arm down when the door opens. He exchanges a glance with the older Itadori, giving his brother a chance to slam the door in his face again, but he doesn’t. He leaves it barely ajar and returns to his bed.

Across from him, Yuji is curled into the corner of his bed facing the wall. He’s tucked beneath the covers, sniffling every few moments as though he’s tired himself out. With a heavy sigh, Sukuna steps carefully through the minefield of toys that almost feel purposefully left out given the frequency of sharper objects.

The mattress dips under Sukuna’s weight. Yuji doesn’t move, the soft rise and fall of his form remaining steady aside from sniffles.

“Hey, Yu.”

Nothing. And fuck, Sukuna is starting to get why he tends to win arguments with his sharp and pointed silences.

He curses under his breath. “I deserve that.” Staring down at his hands draped over his knees, he eyes his thumb, the tremor in that one digit much stronger than the rest. It’s the only outward sign that he’s going through anything.

Well, aside from the miserable sweat clinging to his skin.

“Look, I’m–” His throat betrays him, words catching. “I’m sorry. I didn’t handle what happened right and I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that.”

To Sukuna’s pained relief as he struggles through an apology, Yuji shifts to eye him from over his shoulder. The little boy’s eyes are still red as though he only just stopped crying.

Sukuna tugs a little harder at the branches nestled within his ribs, letting the thorns graze him. “I was mean, alright? I want you to get along with your brother, but I coulda like– told you that. I didn’t have to snap.” He swallows hard, the words threatening to choke him. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I don’t like when you yell,” he finally mutters a pitch too high, muffled by his arms as he rubs his eyes.

“Yeah. Me either.”

Yuji’s still pouting and puffy-cheeked when he flips onto his back, fiddling with the tiger plush that Sukuna can now see is tucked under his arms. It only serves to further break him.

How the hell do you explain something so complicated to a five-year-old? Reluctantly, he tries anyway. “Can I tell you why I yelled?” When he’s met with a tentative nod, he continues. “I’ve been… sick, these last few days. I–”

“You don’t look sick,” Yuji interrupts, and although it comes across in that offhanded blunt way that little kids have mastered, there’s genuine concern swimming within the child’s eyes.

He nods in agreement, dragging a hand down the thickening stubble along his jaw. “Yeah, it’s a weird kind of sick.” He parses his brains for a comparison the child might understand. “Y’know when you eat ice cream too fast and your head hurts?”

The little boy nods.

“That’s kinda how I feel.” He takes a breath to continue, but Yuji pipes in.

“But you’ll get better right?”

Sukuna’s shoulders fall as his little brother’s priorities flip on a dime. No longer upset, but worried. He often wonders whether Yuji fully understands what happened to Jin, or if he understands at all, really. He doesn’t know where the line starts and ends when it comes to how Yuji views Sukuna and how Yuji views his father. He’s not sure where it blurs.

All he can say for sure is that he’s not sure the average kid Yuji’s age would be this worried over a little illness.

“‘Course, just gimme a couple of days, okay?”

Yuji nods, cautiously scooting a little closer.

“Point is, I’m feeling pretty shitty–”

“Bad word!”

Sukuna throws a scowl in Yuji’s direction for interrupting over something so menial. It lacks any real heat though, and the little boy is well aware as their more familiar back-and-forth clicks into place.

Huffing, the brute continues. “I’m feeling bad,” he sneers in reply, the tension in his muscles releasing somewhat as the little boy triumphantly smiles. “And your argument with your brother got to me more than it should’ve. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m sorry, Yu.”

Shitty apology. Shitty excuse. But it’s a step forward, right? It’s what he tells himself as the little boy crawls into his lap, arms around his middle as he squeezes with all his tiny might. “It’s okay, Kuna.”

He hugs his little brother back, his gaze hollowed as he stares at the floor. Movement catches his eye, his sightline rising to meet Choso, still staring at him from across the room. Choso may not sport a pout or a scowl, but the brute can still make out that he’s upset if his unwavering stare is anything to go by.

Sukuna frowns. “Sorry to you too, Cho.”

The older Itadori– who hates when Yuji cries– finally averts his eyes, his guard let down. He takes a moment to reply, not as immediately forgiving as the youngest. “Thanks,” he murmurs, letting out a breath.

“Kuna?” Returning his attention to the pink-haired bundle of energy in his arms, he hums. “Can I have a cookie?”

An amused puff of air leaves Sukuna’s nose. “Yeah, alright. If you agree to be nicer to Cho. He gave you the character you wanted n’ everything, didn’t he?”

Yuji pouts, averting his eyes. “Yeah…”

“So what even happened?”

“I changed my mind…”

Sukuna snorts. “Brat.”

“Hey-uh!” Yuji tugs on Sukuna’s hoodie as he leads the way to the kitchen, beckoning Choso along with the promise of cookies for both of them.

As Choso obliges, Sukuna rustles his hair. “Don’t let Yuji boss you around. He ain’t even half your age.”

Swatting Sukuna’s hand away, Choso half-heartedly protests. “I just wanted to be a good bro–”

“Yes I am!” Yuji interrupts as he bounds between his brothers, insistently holding up six fingers. “I’m almost six!”

“Almost six is five,” the oldest dryly states, grateful that the atmosphere has fallen back to what he’s used to. “And don’t interrupt Cho.”

“Okayyyy.”

Opening a cabinet and pulling down a box of cookies purposefully kept out of reach of grubby hands, Sukuna works on opening the new box. Yuji is excitedly tugging on his sleeve with both hands, the sensation of the material dragging against his skin heightening the itch of withdrawal. It’s as though the discomfort has grown tenfold and it grates against his nerves. A muscle in his jaw ticks as thorns grip his lungs and cravings crawl up his throat.

He whips his head towards Yuji when the little boy tugs hard enough to choke Sukuna, lip curled as he nearly snarls at his brother again, only to catch himself. He sets the box down, harshly dragging his hands over his face as he takes a moment to breathe. He has to tune the little boy out briefly as he comes to his senses, but he shakes his head as he stands upright.

“You’re choking me,” he grumbles out as he finally manages to pull the inner bag of the box of cookies open and hand one down to the little boy.

“Sorry Kuna!” He apologizes, entirely unaware of the man’s inner turmoil as he reaches cheerily for the cookie. He turns to bound towards the table before pausing and holding his palm back up at the older man. “When I feel sick, cookies help me.”

Yuji’s offer could melt the coldest ice. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Yu.” With an encouraging nudge towards the table, Yuji nods in satisfaction and hops into his seat.

“He threw up last time he had more than two cookies,” Choso points out with a wrinkled nose as he reaches up for his own cookie when Sukuna offers the box, trusting the brunette to be more responsible.

“Why do you think I didn’t hand him the box?”

Choso smiles, a near laugh parting his lips as he reaches into the box. With the treat in-hand, he exchanges a glance with his older brother. Both aloof and quiet, they’ve gained something of a silent language over the years. Within the hidden dialogue is an understanding that Sukuna is trying.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy, and at his core he’s still a grumpy brute with a sharp tongue.

But he’s trying.

And that’s enough.

–

Excitement is electric in the air around you. Chatter brims the room from back to front; students, faculty, friends, and family alike.

You always anticipated being excited for graduation, but after the past year, it feels emotional too. The kind where you hold onto every moment, committing each speech to memory because it feels like a blessing bestowed upon you.

Though that would be discounting everything Sukuna has done for you. Twisting in your seat in an attempt to see over the crowd of graduates, you try to search the stands to see if he was able to make it, but you can scarcely see over the crowd.

Putting your focus into the ceremony, you fiddle with the loose gown draping down to your ankles. For as excited as you are, it’s hard not to be equally nervous. Some cruel part of your brain seems to insist that this is a dream, too farfetched to be true when everything was nearly stripped from you.

As the ceremony draws nearer to accepting your diplomas, a buzz heightens the energy of the room as you await the signal to move towards the stage. Your nerves are more frazzled than you care to admit as the word is given and you shuffle to the side of the room.

You scan the crowd that doesn’t don caps and robes, but you can’t make out either Shoko or Sukuna. Mr. and Mrs. Nanami should be among the crowd too, but there’s so many people that it makes anyone hard to spot.

Reasonably, you shouldn’t get your hopes up, either. The kids aren’t in school anymore and your crush works two jobs. You can’t expect his presence when he’s needed in so many places at once.

Sucking in a breath, you cast a glance up at the stage facing far too many people for comfort. Shrinking back behind the row of students, you do what you can to stay out of sight from the large crowd, trying just about every method you can to rid yourself of nerves. With each long, deep breath, you just try to remind yourself that you don’t have to speak. It’s nothing more than accepting your diploma, a quick photo, and you’re off.

You just didn’t expect the crowd to be this big.

Shuffling from left to right, you suck in a breath as the stage grows closer but it doesn’t quell the jitters rattling your lungs.

It’s barely a moment on-stage. Not even a minute. Not even thirty seconds. A handshake and a photo. Most people won’t even be paying attention, all you need to do is take a breath and smile for your photo.

The back of your neck remains warm. There’s a subtle tremble in your fingers in spite of your own mental pep-talk as you make your way up the stairs.

The room feels even larger from atop the stage. The graduating class of this year stretches to the ends of the hall, while risers for friends and family feel as though they reach the ceiling. As you near the front and accept your diploma with a nervous smile and trembling fingers, you make your way to the front of the stage for your photo.

Cheers break out from throughout the crowd, catching you off-guard as you’re able to spot Satoru, Suguru, Yu, Atsuya, and Toji cheering you on from one side of the graduating class, while Kento and Uraume both cheer from another. Beyond them, another small group cheers loudly for you too. Shoko sits alongside Kento’s parents, and beside them–

He made it.

A grin breaks out on your face, the photo snapping as it captures not a meek smile, but genuine glee at the overwhelming support of friends and family.

Your parents may not be present, but you can feel their pride from afar too. You already know tears are being shed as Shoko sends photos and videos.

After the second flash, you duck your head and slip across the stage, heart still pounding as you take your seat once more. In spite of the blood pumping in your ears, it doesn’t feel quite so harrowing with all the familiar faces cheering you on.

You cheer for each of your friends in turn, and as the ceremony comes to a close, you laugh along with the rest of the graduates as you toss your caps into the air. The hats all come tumbling down as the laughter and applause settles for the casual buzz of an excited room of new alumni.

The ticketed crowd files out to wait for their respective former students, while each graduate begins the search for the cap that you all paid for. You fall into step with Kento and Uraume first, embracing them each as you greet one another with congratulations. Even Kento seems jovial today, his usual serenity blooming into a wide grin as he releases you from a hug.

“So, what plans do we all have post-graduation?” Uraume queries as you all begin the search for your caps.

“I actually received an offer to interview for a position in the finance department of the school this morning,” Kento begins, his eyes brimming with the joy he doesn’t express. “My professor recommended me for the position.”

“No way, congrats Ken!” You pull him in for another hug. “I got onboarded full-time at the publishing house earlier this week,” you boast, unable to hide a grin.

Uraume tilts their head knowingly. “Sukuna mentioned as much. He seemed pretty thrilled.”

“Yeah?” You sheepishly reply as you set a cap aside, suddenly wishing you hadn’t written your name on it so that you could just take any unmarked one.

“I’m fairly sure he cheered louder for you than my parents did for me,” Kento chuckles, nudging your shoulder as your cheeks warm over the teasing.

You laugh, unable to deny his claims when you’re equally sure it’s true. Before you can get a word out, Satoru comes barreling into your group, followed shortly by Suguru, Atsuya, and Yu. Congratulations are exchanged once more, alongside hugs.

“You found your cap already?” Uraume’s brow raises as Atsuya returns with one already on. “Fuck no. I just grabbed the first one without a name I could find. I knew this would happen.”

“Smartass,” Toji snarks at his side as the rest of you continue your search in high spirits. Chatter is thrown left and right and slowly but surely you all begin finding your caps within the pile of navy.

Fixing yours atop your head, Kento nudges your arm. “My parents would love to say hi.” He motions back towards the waiting area, your heart palpitating at the thought that Sukuna is back there too, alongside Shoko. “They sent me several questions over ‘the pink-haired man ’,” he smirks, amused. “It sounds as though they put him through a quiz once he mentioned taking you on a date.”

“Oh god.” With a hand covering your lips, you let out something between a laugh and a groan. “Yeah, we can head out.” You turn back to the group, gathering Uraume’s attention. “Ken and I are going to meet with his parents, Sho, and Kuna. In case I don’t see you before then, will you be at Satoru’s on Saturday?”

Giving you another hug, they nod. “Definitely. Congratulations again, I’ll see you Saturday!”

Catching Satoru’s attention, he waves a hand over his head. “You better be at my party!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” You call back as you head for the door.

“Bring your man!”

A nod and a laugh satiate the fratboy as you wave back, catching up to Kento to push through the doors.

The halls outside are a mess of navy and echoing cheer as relatives try to locate their graduates and vice versa. If you weren’t on cloud nine from the high of moving on to a new stage of life, you might find it overwhelming.

“Hey!” Shoko finds you first, pulling you and Kento into a huge hug. “I’m so proud of you both, oh my god,” she breathes as you all share a moment together.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t graduate with us,” Kento’s head tilts to face Shoko.

She sighs. “Can’t believe I’m the only one not graduating this year.”

“You would be with Suguru had he not taken extra courses,” Kento offers a thin-lipped smile. “We won’t be far though, this won’t change anything.”

“I know,” she sighs. “And I’ll hold you to that. I’m not losing either of you. Any of you, for that matter.”

“Never,” you agree.

“I can introduce you to Hiromi, if it’s any consolation,” the blonde offers beside you.

“Hiromi’s really nice, I think you’d like him.”

“Guess I’ll have to take you up on that, then.” Shoko smiles. “Oh!” She perks up suddenly, turning back towards the growing crowd as more students file out. Getting on her toes, she tries to look over the heads of the crowd to no avail. “Come with me.”

Threading through the sea of navy, she leads the way towards a back corner that allows for a bit more peace and a break from the crowd. Tucked within the open corner are Kento’s parents and none other than your crush, donning a black button-up and slacks and the red tie you gifted him. His brow is curled into a scowl as you’re certain he’s still being quizzed by the couple across from him.

As you break through the crowd, his gaze flickers to the movement, staying pinned on you as the attention of the couple shifts to their son. Sukuna glances to his side in an effort to make a good impression on Kento’s parents, but upon realizing they’ve already parted from the conversation, he lets his guard down and closes the distance to you in a few long strides.

“You made it!” You laugh as his arms envelop you, lifting your feet off the ground as he buries his face into your neck in what can only be described as a bear hug. You cling to his shoulders, hands sliding down to his pecks as he sets you down.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Warmth radiates from his gaze as he smiles down at you, genuine and proud.

He wasn’t present to see you during the presentation you were forced to give alone so many moons ago, but it’s a thought he’ll never let himself live down. No matter what it takes, he wants to be there– at your side or in the crowd– to support you during those moments where anxiety clutches your chest. He doesn’t want to let you down again.

“And look at you,” he adds, bending down to your height with a smirk. “So cute in your robes.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, tugging your lower lip between your teeth sheepishly. “Are your brothers alright right now? How’s Choso doing?” You inquire.

“He’s… actually at a friend’s place right now.” Relief floods his being as the tension in his shoulders automatically dissipates at the thought. “And Yu’s bein’ babysat.”

You can’t help a smile at the thought. “He’s come a long way.”

Your crush hums his agreement. “Which is why…” He takes a long breath, standing upright as he musters up courage. “I wanna take you out. Tomorrow night, if you’re free. For a real date.”

“Our last one was fake?” You tease knowingly.

He glowers down at you, playfully trying to pull your cap over your eyes as you duck out of the way, snickering. “I’d love to, Kuna.” You beam up at him, earning a smirk. “Oh, and…” You begin, a slant to your eyebrows as you stare up at him with admiration. “Thank you for the scholarship thing.”

Lowering down to your level again, his smirk shifts to something more earnest as he brandishes his signature grimace. His palm brushes up the column of your neck, thumb settling along your jaw. “Quit thankin’ me.” His lips capture yours briefly. When he pulls back, he squeezes your cheeks until your lips form a kissy face. “We went over this.”

“I know, but–” Your thoughts are cut short when Kento’s parents call your name, beckoning you both over.

“I need to get a photo of you and Ken together,” his mother insists.

With a smirk, Sukuna steps aside as you’re showered in the closest thing to parental love that you can get right now. Kento has to step in with a chuckle in order to get his mother to stop fixing his hair, only to earn the kind of smile a proud parent gives their child who’s officially moving into the next stage of life. You’re grateful that their pride extends to you, even if it means she insists on straightening your gown and cap.

After snapping a photo of you and Kento that mirrors one you took on your first day of school years ago, she beckons to Shoko. Your best friend smiles as she slings her arms around her you both, but Mrs. Nanami is still insistently watching the spot where Shoko just came from. Sukuna’s smirk morphs to shock as he’s beckoned in as well, at the insistence of clearly being dear to you.

He averts his gaze in an effort to keep you all from noticing the rose that dusts his skin, but he doesn’t deny the request. Sidling up behind you, he rests one hand on your waist, the other briefly hovering in the direction of your friends before settling over Shoko on Kento’s shoulder.

“Alright, smile!” The flash goes off, much to all of your dismay as a photo is taken that immortalizes Sukuna’s blush. “All of you smile,” his mother insists, still holding up the phone.

You crane your neck to get a look at Sukuna, who is smiling, albeit a very subtle one.

“Hm? I’m smiling,” he dryly insists, though it brings on a scowl.

“Don’t be a grump,” Shoko insists, laughter coming over the group as Sukuna huffs.

Rather than heat, the huff has a jovial quality like he’s trying not to join in on your laughter. “I’m smiling, I’m smiling,” he insists, the honest expression captured alongside his blush for eternity.

“That one’s perfect,” Kento’s mother grins at her phone. You reconvene with her, letting her fawn over how proud she is of you and her son, showering you both in hugs. Mr. Nanami, the much more aloof of the two hugs you both as well, quiet pride shining behind auburn eyes.

Although it’s obvious she would keep you longer if she could, his mother eventually shoos the four of you away, insisting you make the most of the day. Shoko practically begs for Korean Barbeque as you reconvene with the rest of your friends ahead of Satoru’s party after all.

The buzz of the day keeps you all in high spirits around the long table as horror stories from your years in school together are exchanged. More than anything though, it makes you grin from ear to ear to see Sukuna at your side throughout the whole thing. Even when he starts going at it with Toji, fighting over everything and nothing at all, there’s a spark behind his eyes beginning to rekindle the fire within him.

–

“You sure this thing won’t crap out on me?” Sukuna skeptically stares at the dashboard of Toji’s car. The football player’s hand rests atop the car as he leans in to take a look at the amount of lights on the dashboard that flicker on upon turning the ignition.

“Your auto shop fuckin’ fixed it.”

“I don’t work there anymore,” Sukuna unhelpfully points out.

“Still, no faith in y’r old co-workers?” Toji snorts.

With a sigh, Sukuna pushes a hand back through his hair. “They don’t normally leave three fuckin’ warning lights on.”

“It’ll be fine. The old man who owns the place told me it’s fuckin’ faulty ‘r some shit,” Toji shrugs nonchalantly. “Told me to code check it every so often.”

“Do you?”

“The fuck do I know ‘bout code checking?”

With a forlorn sigh, Sukuna surrenders and opts to take Toji’s approach. Ignore the problem. “Check the fucking code when I get back,” he mutters under his breath, going ignored by his best friend. “Thanks for lending me the car.”

“I would say no problem but you’re bein’ a fuckin’ prick so bring me back an energy drink or some shit on your way back,” he sneers in reply, though there’s a shit-eating grin on his face when Sukuna fixes him with a glare.

It morphs quickly into a smirk as Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

Satisfied with that response, Toji claps him on the shoulder. “Go treat your girl.”

“Mm. Text me if you need a hand with the kids.”

“Nah, we’ll be good.” Toji casts a glance back at his building where Yuji had been determined to make the ultimate sleepover blanket fort mere minutes ago. “Kids’ll have me busy all night, ‘m sure.” Standing upright, he pats the hood of the car and backs away towards the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”

With a smirk, Sukuna pulls the car out of the parking lot. His nerves are far less prominent for your second date, though his palms still sweat against the leather of the steering wheel. For as confident of a man as he is, you break down every wall until he finds himself with sweaty palms and feelings of inadequacy. You also somehow manage to build him back up with your effortless ability to make him feel human and wanted, though.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he nears your complex, pushing away the thorns prodding his mind. Swallowing down his nerves, he sends you a message to let you know he’s out front, getting out in his full suit and tie get-up. He’s been wearing it a lot around you lately, opting to put on a nice watch from his father, while his chains and rings adorn his collar and fingers.

It feels a little less formal and a little more him.

Despite giving you a heads’ up to dress fancy, his heart batters against its cage as you emerge from the building. You’ve done your hair in a style he’s never seen on you, while jewelry and a clutch serve as accents to the floor-length dress with a deep ‘V’ neckline that hugs your curves beautifully.

He swallows hard, the only action that keeps his jaw from dropping to the ground.

How is it that his confidence can slip away at the drop of a dime when it comes to you?

You command a room so effortlessly and you don’t even know it.

As he steps towards you, another realization crosses his mind that has his heart hammering at the bones that keep it in place.

You match. And if he knows anything about you, it’s not an accident, either. You deliberately chose a dress in the same shade as his tie. Somehow the action manages to be painfully cheesy, startlingly sweet, and undeniably hot all wrapped up in one crimson bow.

Or– tie, he supposes.

The thought has him tugging at it, straightening the fabric as he lets out a breath to expel the nerves creeping up within his chest. Before he can tell you how jaw-droppingly gorgeous you are, you’re already sheepishly rambling, growing nervous over his unwavering saucer-wide gaze.

“Sorry, is it too much? I can change or–”

“No,” Sukuna interrupts, too quickly. He clears his throat, gaze rising from the dress he hopes to take his time sliding you out of later. His crimson gaze settles on your saccharine expression. “No, you look gorgeous like this. I mean– you always do, but–” He cuts himself off as you giggle, that telltale divot forming between his brows as he fixes you with his stare.

“Thank you, Kuna,” you murmur, peering up at him from beneath your lashes.

Your reaction settles a modicum of his nerves, regaining some confidence as he slides his palms down the sides of your torso, settling them on your waist. “You matchin’ with me on purpose, princess?”

Bashfully, you avert your gaze, confirming his suspicions. His chest rumbles in amusement and satisfaction that everyone will know you’re out together.

“C’mon, let me treat you to dinner.” With a quick peck of your lips, he wastes no time leading you to your (not so) fancy ride for the night, a rusting Honda Civic that you recognize as Toji’s.

You both welcome the conversation that settles the joint air of nervousness on the way to the restaurant as you excitedly tell Sukuna the decorations that you and Kento settled on getting (courtesy of Satoru’s fancy card) for the graduation party. Truth be told, Sukuna doesn’t see a need for any sort of decorations for a frat party, but he’s not about to burst your bubble when you’re happily chatting with him.

He pulls into a parking lot in a familiar neighborhood, not terribly far from his apartment. 

“Wait there,” Sukuna gruffs as he rounds the car to open your door. He offers his hand, pulling you into his side with a little smirk as your hip collides with the side of his thigh. Your sheepish but eager laughter does numbers for his ego as he gets to walk you towards the restaurant, a hand splayed over your hip.

Your destination isn’t in the lot where you parked, the walk only a few blocks away. It’s a welcome stretch of excited chatter under overcast late afternoon skies as you’re pulled towards a building covered with windows with a sleek black canopy over the door. You immediately recognize the restaurant, though you’ve never been able to try it in spite of its stellar reviews. Phenomenal or not, its price tag has never been something you could afford.

With a wide-eyed glance, you purse your lips. You’re not about to question Sukuna’s decisions, but because you’ve seen the menu before, you know the prices. You also know this isn’t your date’s scene, nor is it really yours. You can appreciate a fancy dinner, but this is outside of even your repertoire.

The interior is gorgeous, dark mahogany accents standing out in the lowered lights of the open entrance. A large diamond chandelier hangs from the center of the dining hall that opens to the host’s right, casting soft glimmers of gold across the black walls.

As you take in your surroundings in awe, you’re led to a table in a back corner, the dim lighting moody and romantic, while a candle flickers atop a silken white tablecloth. The atmosphere is gorgeous, it positively seeps adoration, in spite of the way Sukuna shuffles in his seat across from you after pushing in your chair.

“This is gorgeous, Kuna,” you compliment, bright-eyed and cheery.

“Yeah?” His gaze searches yours deeply, a glimmer of something you can’t place held within the intensity of his irises.

It’s in that moment that you can really make out how uncertain he is. His gaze shifts left and right, his thoughts written across his face as obvious as the ink along his jaw. He doesn’t feel adequate. You’ve known for a long time those thoughts are there and you’ve done your best to dispel them and reassure him. But in an environment like this? One he’s never even considered being able to afford, let alone walking through the doors? Those thoughts are emboldened.

There’s soup on the menu worth more than his whole suit.

But you still do what you can to reassure him. “Yeah,” you grin, swallowing your own doubts. “You really went all out.”

The tension in his jaw releases just an ounce as he hums. “Wanted to uh– show my appreciation.”

“I’m definitely feeling appreciated,” you beam.

As he leans forward, his expression softens, slowly adjusting to the environment just as your waiter makes their way over. He introduces himself, before offering a bottle of wine. He goes over the specials for the night, politely pointing them out on the menu for you. The price is hard to ignore.

Casting a glance up at Sukuna, you can just barely make out the deepening grimace on his face as he looks over the same prices. Still, he juts his chin towards you. “Your call, princess.”

Your lips part, but you’re at a loss as uncertainty pools in your stomach. You can’t order wine that’s more expensive than your rent. You don’t have it in you. The same goes for the main courses that are smaller than your fist but cost a small fortune. Decidedly turning towards the waiter, you smile politely. “Can you give me one more moment, please?”

The waiter excuses himself with a nod.

Shutting your menu on the table before you, a knit forms between your brows in spite of your smile. “You know, I never would have guessed how much of a sweetheart you are under all that grumpiness.”

Grumpiness is right when he fixes you with a deadpan frown.

Still, you giggle as you continue, masking your nerves. “This is beyond sweet of you. Like, seriously, this place is gorgeous.”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you try to gauge Sukuna’s thoughts, but it’s impossible behind those fiery crimson irises. Reaching for his hand over the table, you settle a modicum of your nerves when his grip closes around you. You can only hope he doesn’t take this the wrong way.

“I really love the thought behind this, but this wine won’t taste any different to me than the wine we had at Itadori Restaurant.”

His lip twitches up at the mention of your previous date.

Grateful for the response, however minute, you continue. “And I’m sure the food is great, but I like mac and cheese too, you know?” His tension releases as you tilt your head sweetly. “I just wanna spend time with you. I really appreciate the thought, but… This is a lot of money. We don’t need to do all of this–” you motion to your surroundings with your free hand, settling it atop the menu, “if you don’t want to. Is this what you want, Kuna?”

His jaw tightens. “I just wanna make you happy,” he stubbornly replies.

“I know,” you crack a smile, “and I am. But that’s not what I asked.”

“Then, no,” he admits begrudgingly. “It…” sliding into comfort with you once again, he cracks a smirk. “Looks like they wash the walls with bleach every night.”

You grin. “It does, doesn’t it?” Giving his hand an experimental tug in the direction of the door, you lean in. “Do you wanna head out?”

His tongue runs over his lower lip. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you affirm with a nod. “The night’s young, we can find another restaurant.”

Sukuna gets to his feet, your hand still firmly clutched within his. He weaves between tables, excusing the both of you to the host with a meager apology. Leading you back out into the early evening air beneath the awning of the restaurant, he curses under his breath at the sight that meets him.

Summer showers have caught up with you, the sun peeking through dark clouds as droplets hit the ground with vigor. It shows no signs of letting up in spite of the golden rays fighting for dominance.

“Fuck,” he huffs, turning to face the direction the car is parked, several blocks away. You don’t share the dejection in the creases of his frown, squeezing his hand as you drag him out from under the awning. “Princess, your dress–” he tries to protest.

He’s met with a bubbly grin in spite of everything going wrong already, and he doesn’t know what to make of that. “My dress’ll dry, come on!”

The world is a blur as hair sticks to his forehead and neck, the white of his collared shirt showing a peek at his chest tattoos with every fresh droplet. He can’t make out whether the slick of his palms is sweat from his nerves or the rain seeping between your clasped hands. Your dress clings to your every curve beautifully still. Even with makeup smudged around your eyes, you look radiant under the sparse sunlight.

As your heels trip you up about halfway to the car, Sukuna tugs your hand to the side, leading you into the first open door before he can consider where you even are. Momentarily safe from the summer storm, he throws his head back, pushing hair off his forehead. Giving you a once over to make sure you didn’t break your ankle in the process of being pulled in here, he lets out a relieved sigh, before taking in his surroundings.

“No shit,” he breathes, some sort of irony to be found in your surroundings. Black and white tiling covers the floor beneath your feet. A bar stretches the length of the wall across from you, equally if not more worn than when you were last here, and red leather booths line the wall closest to you, stretching all the way to a jukebox in the corner. The lights from the old machine gleam over the scratched flooring in shattered neons, accentuating the classic diner’s appeal.

Strip Joint. The very reason this area was so familiar when you were making your way to the restaurant.

“Oh, come grab a seat, dears,” a familiar drawl catches your attention. Spinning to face the voice, you smile kindly at the older woman who served you free tea upon seeing your distress with Uraume, and served you and Sukuna so many moons ago; drunk, a little high, and in need of some ice cream. “Don’t worry about the mess, nothing a mop won’t fix.”

“Oh no, we’re just–” Sukuna cuts himself off with a glance down at you when your hand rests atop his chest. You tilt your head sweetly, motioning to the warm, and dry interior of a little diner that encapsulates a moment so heartwarming to the bond you share.

“Why don’t we have dinner here?”

Sukuna’s gaze flits down to your dress– soaked– but gorgeous nonetheless. “We’re overdressed.”

“So?”

He glances back up at the kind older woman, a rag in one hand as she runs lemon-scented soap over worn oak with a familiar knowing gleam in her eye. Then, he stares back at you, patient as always, with that little smile he doesn’t know how to say no to. He reaches up to brush a strand of wet hair from your temple, a breath leaving his nose as he nods.

“Thanks,” he murmurs to her with a small wave, ridding himself of the heaviness of his soaked suit jacket as he leads the way to the same booth where he sat across from you many moons ago. He drops his jacket down on the leather seat, the sound of droplets slipping to the floor unavoidable as you both slide across the cherry-red material.

The waitress, who you’re willing to bet at this point is the owner, makes her way around the counter with two empty mugs, settling them before each of you. “Can I get the two of you dears something warm?”

The air is brisk on your skin as you nod. “I’d love some tea, please.”

“Black coffee, please,” Sukuna gruffs across from you, his tattoos emboldened under the thin white shirt sticking to bulky muscle. He has a concentrated scowl on his face as he smooths the water out from the tie you gifted him. There’s a layer of frustration baked into the crease of his brow that you’ve learned to read over the past several months all-too-well.

Once the waitress nods and returns to the bar along the back, the coffee machine humming to life in the background, you grab your date’s attention with a nudge to his foot. “What’s on your mind, Kuna?”

He pauses his motions, briefly examining your expression before sighing. His forearms settle along the edge of the table as he leans forward, a stray droplet dripping from his hair down to his chin. “‘M sorry. I thought things would go well this time, n’ the food menu was priced–” he hesitates, because you both know it wasn’t priced well. “It was priced okay,” he settles on the word sourly. “You’re worth the price, I just–” he struggles with words, his nose wrinkling as he grows frustrated with himself.

Your lips press into a tight-lipped sympathetic smile. You regard him with warmth at the kindness behind the gesture. He seems to have these ideas in his mind of how everything should go, convincing himself of what the right way to do things is, as though everything about your connection hasn’t been chaotic from the get-go. As though you don’t embrace the chaos with him, hand-in-hand.

Your teeth sink softly into your lower lip as you slip from your seat, moving around the table to settle into the booth beside him. His eyes convey mild surprise, but they’re still stormy as he shuffles over to give you space to sit. The only break in the storm comes in the form of him gently reaching up to wipe smeared makeup from beneath your eyes.

“Thanks,” you breathe. “And stop beating yourself up over this,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, his warmth welcome in the air conditioned diner. “I told you, I like you for you. You’re still my best friend, you know that, right? I like that we can just talk and hang out and there’s no real expectations. I like the chaos and,” you wave a hand towards the soaked disaster you both are, “messiness.”

Coming around to your words, he nods slowly, the thorns pricking at his mind beginning to unfurl.

“I mean, come on,” you nudge him again. “We’re not fancy people. It’s really sweet of you to wanna bring me somewhere like that, but–” you shrug. “That’s not us.”

Nearly free from the grip of inadequacy, he lets out a long sigh, when his deepest fear pours from his lips before he can pluck the thorns from his mind. “No, but– you deserve the best.”

“Kuna, sweetheart,” you reach up to frame his face with your palms, your heart leaping within your chest at the way he melts as you use a pet name for him. The tension in his shoulders releases, the storm within crimson eyes dissipating as he allows himself to settle within your hold. His cheeks are mostly dry now aside from a stray droplet or two from unruly salmon strands, his skin warm beneath your palms as his face flushes under your attention.

As he allows himself to indulge in the moment, you brush your thumbs along his cheek bones, trying to find the right way to convey your thoughts.

“It means a lot that you feel like I deserve all that,” you tilt your head kindly, “but you know what some of my favorite moments with you have been?” You don’t wait for his reply. “Ice cream at midnight in the middle of a diner that sounds like a strip club. Spilling ramen all over myself and having to wear your jacket because my top was see-through. Watching you point out the planets while we look at the stars on your balcony.”

Tenderness swarms his chest, the cool air no longer touching his damp skin as he’s warmed from the inside out by your words and reassurance. “Me on my knees in the snow?”

His lop-sided grin earns a laugh from you, your palms sliding down to his chest. “God, no. That was too much,” you brush him off, your cheeks warming at the thought. You continue as his chest rumbles beneath your touch. “That, back there,” you point over your shoulder in the wrong direction, although he gets the point. “That sort of thing doesn’t last. It’s all fake, it’s just a bunch of rich people trying to impress one another and then going home and not talking to one another.”

A breath leaves his nose, amused. Finally managing to shed the thorns that had lodged themselves within his mind, he nods. “Guess so, huh?”

“And honestly, nothing would make me happier than knowing you have that money in your pocket for something for your brothers. Or yourself.” Your fingers curl into the damp fabric beneath them. “I, um– I hope I didn’t come off as rude or anything, and I know this is something that you spent a lot of time on, but I promise I’m not trying to change you or–”

“Princess.” Sukuna’s hand rests over yours. “You’re fine. I don’t think there’s a rude bone in your body and you’re right. I was tryin’ too hard to be something I’m not.”

So focused on your date that you forget about your order, you jump when the waitress returns with two mugs atop two small plates, and a small metallic teapot. A selection of teabags are laid out beside your mug as options for you to choose.

“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologizes, her gaze both kind and knowing as she regards you both, now on the same side of the booth. “Are you ready to order food?”

“That’s alright,” you brush her off. “We need a few minutes, sorry!”

“Not a worry at all, I’ll be back in a bit.” Something about the way she carries herself has you wondering if she remembers you both, though you suppose Sukuna’s relatively recognizable. The pink hair and tattoos certainly make him stand out in a crowd.

“Scaredy cat,” Sukuna snorts under his breath. You shove your shoulder into his bicep playfully, grinning as he laughs and uses the action as an excuse to pull you into him. His warmth is beyond welcome, serving as a reminder to make yourself some tea.

As you pour the boiled water over your teabag of choice, you eye Sukuna from your peripheral. “What has you so caught up on details, anyway?” You query, taking notice of how particular he’s been over your dates and how much it’s gotten to him when everything goes awry.

He frowns, contemplative in the way he rolls his shoulders back as though bracing himself. He wants to admit to the sensation that he’ll never be enough, but there’s a serpent, bitter and venomous, wrapped tightly around his throat. It constricts his lungs and clamps its fangs down in an effort to choke the admission like some sort of cruel self-sabotage.

You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, spitting the words out through the cracks. “I can’t get it out of my head.” His body begs for water, the expanse of a desert held within the tightness of his jaw. His gaze traverses the table, settling for coffee that doesn’t quench the sudden dryness.

Your head tilts as you watch his strained reaction. “Can’t get what out of your head?”

“I put you through so much shit this year,” he croaks, tension present in his gravelly voice. “I don’t deserve to be here with you, when–”

“Sukuna,” it’s your turn to swiftly cut him off before the thoughts can spiral any further. “Don’t say that.” You pause, searching his expression, though the storm has returned. His expression is clouded, walls that match the weather outside rising as he admits to something that’s clearly been getting to him. “I know a lot happened this year, but–”

“Don’t downplay what I did,” he grunts, raw. There’s an aching chill that spreads through his body as he prevents you from brushing off his actions.

Your lips purse as you slowly nod. “I won’t.” It’s a near-whisper, the saddened look in your eyes at his dejection worsening the ache in his chest. “But people change, you know. They grow. And I know that you know you’ve grown.” You poke a finger into his chest, garnering his attention as he sucks in a breath, denial settled on the tip of his tongue.

“What if it’s not enough?”

“Then we talk things through. We figure it out.” You shrug like it’s nothing, just another facet of life, because it is. “We’re a team, Kuna. Don’t make decisions about what’s enough when it comes to us without me.”

His shoulders fall as your words hit like a moving train. They wipe clean through him, but more importantly, they take a modicum of the doubt too. Poison still lingers, but your words are burned into his mind, serving as a reminder not to let his thoughts get to him.

The chilling ache of the evening dissipates, warmed by your sincerity. It pumps through his veins and in spite of his soaking clothing, the cold doesn’t touch him. Still not a man of many words, he simply pulls you close, burying his face into your damp strands. No words are exchanged, but he lets you know he hears you.

“Stop beating yourself up. Please.”

His chest rises and falls, his heart rate steady, though you note that it seems faster than usual. “Okay,” he yields, kissing the crown of your head. Another huff leaves his form as if dispelling the last of his uncertainty, before he pulls back to open the menu.

You follow suit, looking over options. “What are you thinking of getting?” You query.

Sukuna doesn’t look up from his menu, though the corner of his lip twitches. “Chicken.”

With a roll of your eyes, you give him a playful shove. “You’re such a smartass, you literally said that last time.”

With a lopsided grin, he lowers his menu, tilting his head in your direction. “Oh yeah, well what are you having then, princess?”

Pursing your lips, you cast a glance towards the menu. Your voice is small as you concede defeat. “Chicken, probably…”

He snorts with a light flick to your forehead as you fall into familiarity with him, only this time you have no doubts of where you stand. As you attempt to flick him back, he catches your wrists and brings them down to your lap, gentle but firm so as to not cause you any harm.

The waitress returns with an amused simper. “Have you decided what you’d like?”

“The original three-piece meal, please,” you order, glancing over at Sukuna with a subtle tug of your wrists in hopes that he isn’t paying attention, to no avail. He barely even budges, ignoring your pout as he orders.

“Extra hot five-piece meal, please.” Using his free hand, he shuts both menus and slides them towards the waitress.

He bears a smirk as she makes her way to the kitchen. The sidelong gaze he shoots at you is as warm as it is shit-eating. “Brat,” he murmurs, low and teasing.

Protest lies among your tastebuds, but Sukuna swallows it with his lips, only letting go of your wrists when you give in to him. He pulls back slowly, a victorious smirk still plastered to his lips.

Sitting upright, he sighs, though there’s an air of satisfaction to it. As though he’s finally let go of every thought tying him to uncertainty, finally at ease not just in life but with himself. You admire him quietly. The curve of his jaw, the strong angle of his nose, the mild flutter of his lashes as his gaze stares through whatever’s ahead of him. What strikes you the most about your date at this moment though, is that the crease in his brow has softened, and the circles beneath his eyes aren’t quite as dark as usual. There’s a peaceful appearance to the man that bears a near-permanent scowl.

Even without a smile, even with lidded eyes that still bear a tired expression, he seems happy. You don’t interrupt whatever goes through his mind, enjoying the moment’s peace.

That is– until he shuffles and he’s reminded that his shoes are two small ponds and the scowl returns to his face.

With a giggle, you follow his gaze down to his shoes. “Your socks must be soaked.”

“They are,” he gruffly agrees.

You poke your heels out from the base of the dress plastered to your figure. “Guess I made the right choice.”

“You almost fell flat on your ass while we were out in the rain,” he points out with a raised brow.

You part your lips to protest, but you can’t conjure any meaningful arguments in your favor when the entire reason you ended up in here was the near-wipeout. “That wasn’t the heels’ fault,” you weakly utter. “I’m just clumsy.”

Sukuna’s large palm rubs up and down your waist in teasing comfort. “At that point, just blame the heels, princess,” he murmurs into your ear. “They don’t look comfortable, anyway.”

“They’re not,” you shrug. It’s something that comes so naturally to you that you barely even think about it until your toes are rubbed raw and the balls of your feet ache. “But they’re cute.” Your gaze lights up as you launch into an explanation where you recall a time that Shoko once begged Kento to switch shoes during a fancy dinner party that her parents had begged the three of you to attend, only to hand Shoko a dress and a pair of heels that didn’t suit her fancy.

“There’s no way that guy put on heels,” Sukuna scoffs, met with your giggle of agreement.

“No, but he did wear socks for the rest of the night and carry the heels around. You know the worst part though?”

Sukuna doesn’t give you much more than a questioning hum in a reply when his gaze is pulled towards the waitress making her way over with each of your meals. You thank her in turn and begin making work of your meal.

Swallowing your first bite of food, you continue your story. “Her parents had a backup outfit in case she hadn’t liked the first one, and it still had heels. She had to buy Ken a new pair of shoes because they took his shoes and she never found them.”

“If there’s an opposite of karma, it’s that,” Sukuna snorts between bites. You chuckle in agreement as he recounts a story from before Yuji was born– finding a receipt for a new pair of Kaori’s shoes, only to return them and swap them for one size too small, just to piss her off. You laugh in tandem at the mere concept, grinning from ear-to-ear as Sukuna opens up about a time far simpler.

You lean into him, fries in one hand as you laugh into his shoulder at childhood stories. He doesn’t hold back, joining in on your glee as his form vibrates in unceremonious chortles, his cheeks faintly flushed. You can’t say whether that’s from the heat of the chicken he hasn’t had the opportunity to finish as you eagerly pull stories from him, the ardor of happy memories, or the warmth of being wrapped up in a date that encapsulates you both perfectly.

As his chuckles die down, something shifts within his gaze, wistful as it is reminiscent. “Y’know, my dad never got mad at Toj’ or I. Not really, anyway. But man, when I took his car right after I got my license when we were sixteen–” he shakes his head, a long exhale leaving his nose. “The old man was so pissed.”

“Why’d you take it?” Your head tilts quizzically as you regard him, your plate of food done as you don’t dare interrupt Sukuna’s stories. Your voice is soft, grateful to hear about his father. You can’t recall a time where your date has so openly talked about Jin outside of tear-filled moments or bitter recollections brought to life by the trial.

He scoffs, shrugging dramatically. “Dunno. Guess I thought it’d make me look cool to pick up Toji n’ a couple of friends for a movie.” He winces at the mere thought. “Y’know that ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ thing that parents do? I got that big time. Toji, too. The poor guy didn’t even know my dad said no to taking the car.”

“That’s way worse than any kind of punishment,” your nose wrinkles at the thought of your parents’ version of that. The look you would get.

“Y’know what the worst part was?”

You shake your head, leaning in.

“Got my license on my birthday, n’ my dad told me I’d need to hang in there for a gift. I told him not to worry about it, I knew we didn’t have a ton of cash and didn’t really care.” He shrugs the thought off. “The day I asked to borrow the car was payday for him, which is why he asked me to wait, I guess.”

“No,” you gasp as the dots connect in your mind.

“Yeah,” he groans, dragging his free hand down his face. He runs it back through pink locks with a sigh. “He got me a fuckin’ car and him and Kaori needed the one I took to go pick it up.”

Both of you sport twisted expressions of horror at the mere thought. “So, what happened?”

“Honestly? He could’ve been way more pissed. Should’ve been.” He shakes his head, his gaze softening as he stares down at the chicken, now lukewarm, still remaining on his plate. “Might’ve been the nicest any parent has ever been grounding their kid,” he snorts at the thought. “But uh– yeah, he grounded me. Got my car officially a month later.”

“He sounds like he was a great dad.”

“Yeah,” Sukuna murmurs, voice barely more than a gravelly whisper. “He was.”

With a small smile, you give the brute a moment as something within his expression twists, from recollection to a scowl, before he seems to come to a conclusion about something. Whatever it is, he blinks it away, finally bringing more of his meal to his lips as he moves on.

“How was your chicken?” He asks between bites.

“Great,” you grin. “Yours?”

He nods his approval, mouth full. He finishes a bite before motioning to the chicken. “Want a bite?”

“Didn’t you get the super spicy one?”

“Mhm.”

You idly chew on your lip in consideration.

“You a little bit of a wimp, angel?” He teases, nudging your thigh with his.

“No,” you bite back, pausing long enough for Sukuna to grin. “That just smells spicy.”

“Try it,” he shifts his plate an inch towards you, his gaze flickering up to the kind older woman across the restaurant helping someone who walked in recently. “I’ll get you some water, just in case.”

With a glass of water on the way, you take a bite of chicken from Sukuna’s plate. It’s flavorful beyond belief, and for a moment, you really enjoy it.

Until the pain hits.

Your face contorts as you suck in a breath of air, trying to play it cool. Much to your disdain, Sukuna is grinning knowingly beside you. His head tilts down into your line of vision. “So?”

Smartass. “It’s great,” you murmur between breaths in an effort to cool your mouth. It’s not a lie either, it is great, even if it’s as hot as the fiery depths of hell.

“Yeah?” He teases, thanking the amused waitress as she sets water down before you. He moves it towards you, which you don’t hesitate to down. It helps in the moment, but the heat returns mere seconds later.

“How do you even eat that?”

Sukuna snickers at your side. “High tolerance,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “When the kids aren’t around, I usually get spicier food.”

Sucking in a breath after a sip of water, you crane your neck towards him. “Why not just have it around them?”

“You seen Yuji’s grubby hands? That kid eats off my plate more than his own.”

“Something tells me you know this from experience,” you laugh over the rim of the glass in your hand.

He sighs, letting his head fall back as he stares at the ceiling, recalling the incident. “We’d just run out of milk,” he mutters. “The brat was a mess. I had to order a fuckin’ carton online.”

You stifle laughter, though you’re empathetic both to Sukuna’s situation and in this particular moment, Yuji’s too. With another sip of water, you peer over the rim at the rippling liquid. “You’re a good brother, you know.”

The words hang in the air, stagnant but not stifling. His gaze is locked to the glass in your hands, though he stares straight through it, deep in consideration. After a long moment, he finally reaches for your statement with a sigh. “‘M tryin’.” He sits upright, casting a glance out the window as the sound of children laughing seems to taunt him. “Things are gettin’ easier with Cho,” he admits, “but Yuji…” he shakes his head.

Perplexed, you tilt your head. “Yuji?” They have their disagreements, sure, but everything always seemed more strained with Choso.

His jaw hangs ajar for a moment as he contemplates his reply. “Sometimes I dunno what to do with the kid. I always told him I wasn’t his dad, but–”

Right, he told you Yuji called him dad. Cried and screamed for Sukuna, his dad, as Kaori locked him in a car and drove away. “It’s not easy,” you agree. “You’re both, in a way. And sometimes you have to pick sides, I guess.”

“Hard to pick sides when I’m on both of ‘em,” he scoffs.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but I think you know in the moment what you need to be for him better than you think.”

He blinks down at his lap. “Just hope I’m doing right by them.”

“You are,” you assure him. “Just remember that you do still get to be their brother, too,” you offer the thought. “Both of them. Not just Choso. You can still play Nerf with them,” you shrug with a smile.

He snorts. “Yuji lost all o’ the darts for those things.”

“All of them?” You gape.

“Mhm.”

“How?”

Your date shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. “They’re probably under his bed or some shit.”

“Still,” you murmur. “Impressive.”

“That’s Yuji for you.”

“You know,” you smirk, “I bet you were pretty similar when you were his age.”

Sukuna raises a brow, his lips quirking up. He sets his mug down before him. “Can’t say I remember much from his age,” he starts, “but Toj’ n’ I used to spend so much time around my dad while he was watching history shows that we would do dramatic re-enactments of the Ides of March with action figures. My dad was horrified when he found out.” He snorts at the thought, staring fondly at nothing in particular. “Apparently it was ‘too morbid’ for eight-year-olds.”

“He has a point,” you agree, but you’re still giggling cheerily at the thought of Sukuna’s father, mortified as he watches his child reenact the famous murder of Julius Caesar.

“It gave us character,” Sukuna grins.

“It explains a lot, honestly.”

Still, your date is happily laughing at your side as he reminisces on a time long past, launching into another story of how they horrified his father. There’s a little dimple in his cheek as he grins that you’ve never had the chance to notice with all his scowls and aloof stares. It suits him, and between that and the pale flush to his cheeks, you hope to see it more often in the future.

“So, y’know,” he finishes with a simpering shrug. “I was a pretty good kid.” He gives you a nudge. “What about you, princess? You always such a sweetheart?”

You breathe out a laugh. “I don’t know about that, I was still a kid,” you point out. “But until Kento moved in beside us, my parents always said I was a handful.”

Sukuna hums. “Coulda fooled me that his mom wasn’t yours.”

“Oh yeah?”

He shifts to lean on the table, his hand sliding down to the top of your thigh. He idly squeezes at the plush of your leg with no regard for how odd the material feels over wet skin. “Shoko called me your hot date,” he snorts.

“Aaaand she had a hundred questions for you?”

He grunts in reply, mild irritation woven within the lines of his expression.

The sound of your giggle causes him to lean against the table, his elbow folded beneath his cheek. “And now you know why I wasn’t a handful after she moved in,” you laugh.

“It explained a fuckin’ lot about Kento.”

“He’s somehow a perfect blend between his parents,” you agree. “But yeah, their place was a second home to me. I guess I calmed down after that. Ken and I used to go to swimming lessons and book clubs and summer camps together.”

“Book club? Cute.”

Bashfully glancing down at his hand on your thigh, you smile to yourself.

“So that’s how you decided you wanted to work in publishing,” he concludes.

“Mhmm!” You hum your confirmation. “I just wanted to read more,” you chuckle at the thought.

“And look at you now.”

When you crane your head up to Sukuna, his crimson gaze is lidded. Honeyed in the way he only ever gets towards you. You never let yourself believe it was anything more than friendship, and how foolish was that? To think that you’d ever equated his obvious infatuation for anything less than that– anything less than profound adoration– is a thought to behold.

In an effort to divert his heated affection and keep warmth from crawling up your neck to the tips of your ears, you flip the subject back on him. “Um– you know, I still feel bad that you’re giving up two years of your life for that– for me.”

He blinks, unmoving as his gaze briefly flickers to the wall in thought. “Don’t. I’m not giving anything up.” His voice is low, firm, as he reassures you.

“Don’t you have– like– dreams, or anything, though?”

“‘Course I do.” His hand squeezes your thigh gently. “Think mine are just a little different from what you’re thinking of.”

Your line of sight flickers between either of his eyes, pools of sanguine clearer than they’ve ever been as he gives you his full attention. “What do you mean?” You query softly.

The little tilt of your head you never seem to realize has such an effect on him has him breaking into a hint of a smile. He inhales softly, letting out a long breath as he enjoys the sanctity of spending time alone with you.

“Your dream was to finish school and become an editor, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement.

“Well, I never really had a career in mind. I kinda just took after my dad because I liked history. That and art were the only things I really could see myself studying,” he admits. Before you can ask the question on your mind, he continues. “I know my dad would have supported me no matter what I chose, but by the time I was applying to schools–” he hesitates, his jaw locking open as he speaks. “I knew. He was sick and we were a couple of months in, and–” he shakes his head.

The air has an edge that Sukuna’s certain only he feels, while you give him the space he needs to find words fitting of the moment. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat bobbing before he parts his lips again.

“You know what everyone says about art school and not making it n’ shit. History felt like it opened more doors for me to support myself,” he sighs. “Hindsight, or whatever,” he squeezes your thigh in place of waving a hand nonchalantly through the air.

You give his statement a moment to settle, shuffling an inch closer to him. Your voice is soft and steady as you quiz him further. “What about as a kid?”

He sucks in a breath. “I mean, sure, I wanted to be a fuckin’ astronaut like every other kid.”

With an airy laugh, you shake your head. “That’s cute, but I mean when you were like a teen.”

Sukuna’s lips press together tightly at the concept of being called cute, his grimace immediately twisting into a glower. He side-eyes you, but reserves any snide commentary for if you push the matter. Brushing off your choice of words, he shrugs. “Sure, I guess. I wanted to be a fucking street artist, but that’s not a job.” He pauses, shrugging as his gaze falls to his hand over your still-damp thigh. “I know it’s not street art, but I still get to work in art because of you. I don’t mind takin’ on some extra work doing something I like to see your dreams come true.”

He delivers it as though it’s natural, like he hasn’t just said the sort of thing that only seems true of a cheesy romantic movie. There’s no grand orchestral note to follow up something so sweet it rips the air from your chest, just his natural mild expression, as though even he sees it as just another day.

It sounds an awful lot like a confession of love to you, though.

“Sukuna, what–? I don’t– That’s so much,” you breathe, struggling to wrap your head around his words when your heart is doing circles around itself.

“Not really,” he shrugs, the air of nonchalance still throwing you off balance further. “I’ll have some late nights, but I quit the auto shop and I can do most o’ my work remotely. I’ll still have time for you and the brats.”

Completely at a loss, all you can do is stare. Your lips are pursed as you attempt to digest the knowledge, brows pulled together in disbelief. “I–” Still, words befuddle you. With a shake of your head, you tilt your head back up at him. “Wait, then what is your dream?”

He blinks slowly, his gaze drinking in every inch of your face. The muscles in his shoulder flex beneath the thin layer of damp polyester as he adjusts his arm to pull you closer by your waist. It’s effortless, the way he moves back into his casual position leaning over the table on his folded elbow after pulling your thigh flush to his. He slips his hand from your waist to settle along the back of the booth, running chilling lines up your spine with the tips of his fingers.

“This is.”

No flourish. No jokes. No teasing. He’s dead serious and wholehearted as he stares unwaveringly into your eyes like this isn’t yet another confession when you haven’t even wrapped your mind around the first one.

“There has to be–”

“Princess,” he interrupts the spiral you’ve started down before it can go further. “I watched my dad chase someone who never gave a shit about him for years. To have you here with me now and know the kids are safe and not with that fuckin’ monster who fucked over my whole damn family–” he shakes his head and shrugs all at once. “That’s all I could ever want.”

Your hand settles on his thigh, still grappling with his confession. In spite of the cool air still chilling against your damp clothing, warmth spreads through you at the realization that Sukuna’s found a slice of heaven. He got the push he needed to find his way in life in the form of a person, and your heart pounds wildly at the thought. Even though his fingers run featherlight along your spine, you’re certain he can feel your pulse, if not hear it.

“I’m happy,” he admits. “And I didn’t that was an option.” His brow twitches, downturning as he glowers down at your empty mug. “I figured I’d just kinda go through the motions as long as my brothers were okay and then,” he shrugs listlessly. “Dunno. Someday they’d move out, and I’d figure my own shit out then.” His gaze cements on yours, his face still contorted into his signature scowl, though he’s firm in his statement. “So, yeah. This. This is my dream.”

Even with his grumpy disposition, it’s sappy. Beyond belief. The kind of thing reserved only for the quiet moments with you where he finds safety within your presence.

You, on the other hand, are still at a complete loss. Sukuna can tell as much, between the owlish look you give him and the way you keep squeezing his leg. “What about after the kids, then? What do you wanna do?”

He continues to quietly examine your expression, reading every blink and twitch, every flicker of your gorgeous eyes across the diner’s walls as you search for an explanation as though he hasn’t laid his thoughts bare before you. Sukuna’s been vulnerable with you before, he’s given you more than the once-cold shouldered and pissed off brute could ever have dreamed; but this– here, now– is the truth, unfiltered and raw without an ounce of guardedness that you’ve grown accustomed to.

So, yeah, he supposes it makes sense that you’re a bit bewildered.

“Dunno,” he admits, sitting upright and rolling his shoulders. He pushes the hand back through his hair, staring ahead at nothing in particular. “I wanna travel. Do some of the things I never got to with my dad or in college. Sports games, concerts, see the world n’ all that.”

Your expression softens, still trying to wrap your head around everything, but falling into familiarity with him once more.

“With you, if you want.”

Something flickers within his crimson irises, a hint of uncertainty, no matter how brief. You quell the thought before he can dwell on it by drawing his attention to your hand as you squeeze his thigh. “I’d love that.”

The smirk he shoots you is lopsided, but it’s genuine. If only for a moment, his sharp edges dull and he bares his soul to you, offering his heart on a silver platter. It’s beaten and bruised, but it beats steadily still. Maybe even stronger, now.

“What’s next for you?” He grunts.

Pulled from your trance, you blink a number of times, still caught up on his sincerity. “Um–” you shake your head, “I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t expect to get pretty much my dream job right out of school.” You take a moment to consider what a future looks like for you. “I mean, there’s always opportunities to grow my career. I think someday I’d like to edit books for adults,” you chuckle at the thought of the children’s adventure novel awaiting you on Monday.

“What, sick of knock-off kids’ books?” Sukuna teases, the serious air beginning to dissolve around you.

“It’s cute and fun, and I think there’s a part of me that hopes kids like Cho and Yuji find something they love in them,” you explain your thoughts, leaning into his hand that continues soothing strokes up and down your back. “But, um– yeah. I'm a little sick of them.”

Amused, Sukuna exhales a harsh puff of air. “Alright, so you wanna edit smut books–”

“I didn’t say–”

“But what about outside of work?” He continues, pleased with himself as you throw him a little pout with narrowed eyes. He can feel heat rising along the back of your neck, a thought that makes him smirk as he teases you.

Cute. Always cute.

Brushing past his commentary, you quirk your head to the side, eyes grazing the ceiling in thought. Second dates don’t feel like the appropriate time to admit that you hope for simplicity and domesticity and that you see him in all of your visions, but he did just admit himself that he wants you to be a part of his distant travels, long after the boys move out.

Sucking in a breath, you peer up at him from beneath your lashes. “I guess I’m not really sure,” you admit, “but I’d like it if you, Yuji, and Choso were a part of it.”

Relief flickers within the cerise of his eyes, for as much as he tries to hide it with a glance away. Something about hearing you repeat his own wishes back to him feels like the last puzzle piece sliding into place. The world must agree too, because the harsh pitter patter of rain softens to something far calmer. He swallows hard, casting a quick glance back at the golden rays peeking through clouds to cast a warm glow on the slick asphalt.

“Think I speak for all three of us when I say we want that too, angel.” His voice is low, words spoken only for you when he looks back over at you. With a glance cast up and down your figure, he figures this is a good opportunity to get you back to the car without drenching either of you any further. “Why don’t we go get you warmed up?”

He calls politely for the waitress, but you catch his attention with a hand on his bicep as she makes her way over. His pupils flicker down, awaiting your reply.

“As long as the night’s not over just because of a little rain.”

He smirks. “Nah. But I’m still not letting you catch a cold, I can feel your goosebumps, y’know.”

With a glance down at the evidence of goosebumps rising along your arms, you hum your agreement. You thank the waitress as Sukuna pays and apologizes for the fact that she’ll probably need to mop. He grabs his suit jacket and leads the way back out into the brisk evening breeze.

The summer days are long and the sun– although low– still graces you with its warmth, thankfully. It almost counteracts the bitterness of the light wind passing over your wet clothing. Sukuna’s palm radiates heat as he squeezes you close by your shoulders as well, grateful for whatever small respite from the cold you can get.

Beginning the walk down the block as close as you can get to the heat he radiates, you bask in the smell of fresh grass and wildflowers sprouting within the cracks and crumbling pieces of the sidewalk. Birds call and sing to one another as the clouds shift and churn. Another bout of thunder growls overhead in the deep grays above, but your walk isn’t far.

Even with the sky warning you the storm isn’t over, you still find yourself stopping when you round the corner of the block, the tall buildings parting just enough to reveal a faint rainbow in the distance. It stretches behind the next block, sparkling as though droplets cascade down it.

Sukuna follows your gaze as you halt suddenly, his scowl softening as he finds the subject that’s captured your interest.

“Maybe mother nature’s apologizing for raining us out,” you offer.

Sukuna hums his acknowledgement, craning his neck to watch your expression. He admires the smooth curve of your lips, the lift of your brow as you examine the sky, and the endearing sparkle in your eye over something so little. He isn’t one to stop and smell the flowers or chase rainbows after a storm, but with you? It doesn’t seem so bad.

He might even get why people do it.

His grip on you tightens as a thought crosses his mind and before he can dismiss it, he swallows down any apprehension and faces his inadequacy, uncertainty, and fears head-on. The scowl he bears isn’t borne of frustration, irritation, or even any of the very beasts he faces, but rather determination as he turns to face you.

Your expression changes to something inquisitive as his arm leaves your shoulder in a cold shiver (that he swears he’ll fix as soon as he can). With a sharp inhale, he steps forward and cements his hands to your waist. His thumbs slide up and down your sides, frowning as his mind races through words that he had prepared…

Back when his plan was to do this outside of the first restaurant.

Not in the rain.

He also would have preferred if had admitted that he doesn’t feel like he’s enough for you on a fifth or sixth date, not the second.

But he supposes you have a point. Everything about Sukuna’s life is chaos, and you’ve chosen to be a part of it and embrace it.

So what the hell is he waiting for?

His fingers curl into your waist, his expression hardening as it always does when he’s deep in thought. “It’s funny, y’know,” he starts, glancing at the rainbow as though it’s suddenly caught his attention. “I had so much shit planned out, right down to the fuckin’ weather.” He blinks, his gaze trailing down to the sidewalk. “I don’t think anything I planned worked out,” he admits, though he seems a bit more confident in his admission than he did a couple of hours earlier.

You crack a smile at the ease he seems to find within your presence. You’re sure he’s completely unaware that he’s rubbing circles into your sides, completely caught up in finding the words suiting the moment.

“But you’re right. That’s not who I am, that’s not how my life goes.” He shrugs, shaking his head. Working up the courage to say what he really means, he swallows down the nerves climbing to the surface. “Shit goes wrong all the time, and I’ve fucked up a lot, but–”

“Kuna–”

“Wait, just–” he interrupts, his jaw tightening as he grapples for words. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, his gaze finally centering on your face. “Doesn’t matter how shit everything is, you’re always there. You’ve been a goddamn angel to me and–” He harshly cuts himself off to stop the claws of inadequacy from being able to get a grip on him. Picking up where he left off, he speaks with more confidence, certainty breathed through his every word. “I don’t wanna waste anymore time not calling you mine.”

Your fingers curl into his chest, your lips pursed. You swear your heart leaps from your chest and takes off, but the wide grin that spreads across your face says otherwise. Any thoughts of being cold disappear as fire erupts in your chest, erupting as it engulfs your entire body in molten thrill.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Sukuna?” You whisper, eager and gentle.

“I’d be a dumbass not to.” To your delight, his lip quirks up into a hint of a smile; uncertain, maybe even a little flustered, but hopeful. “And I’m tired of bein’ a dumbass.”

“Yes.”

Sukuna surges forward in an instant, causing you both to stumble back. All precaution and regard for being on a street corner under storm clouds is thrown to the wall as he slots his lips over yours. Everything about the way he captures you is so him. It’s messy, fiery, passionate, and filled with fervor. Whatever it was that was holding him back has unlatched itself from him as his hands roam your body as though he doesn’t know where to keep them.

One slips up your waist, cradling your back as it slides up your spine only to move to your hip and slide back up into your hair. The other squeezes your waist before moving to the column of your neck and finally cupping your jaw.

His tongue glides along your bottom lip when a stray droplet suddenly hits your forehead and you pull back with a gasp of surprise. Your boyfriend scrutinizes the droplet like it’s done him a personal offense, wiping it with a thumb before turning his attention to the darkening sky. Whatever rays broke through the cumulus long enough to grace you with a rainbow clearly decided your makeout session wasn’t meant for a public street corner.

In Sukuna’s eyes though?

Mother nature is smiting him.

One droplet turns to two, and then four, and suddenly the rain is back in full force, pelting you with large droplets.

“Oh fuck off!” Sukuna loudly exclaims to the sky, unable to withhold the frustration that nothing seems to be going right. His hair is plastered to his forehead again when he glowers down at you like a cat caught in a rain storm. The edges smooth just a bit though, when he catches you laughing, your fingers still laced between his.

You shine brighter than the strongest rays that broke through the clouds, radiant as you stand beneath the rain. Unbothered by the droplets catching in your lashes, you simply grin at the grumpy man before you, enjoying his (mostly) faux disdain.

To your delight, the sight of you laughing has him rolling his eyes with an amused puff of air leaving his nose. It’s the first domino that leads him to join your laughter, pulling you by your hands into him. He smooshes your face into his chest with a palm to the back of your head, his laughter rumbling through you like the purr of a cat.

Only once it dies down does he take the time to get a look at your soaked form. “C’mon,” he mutters. “Let’s go dry off. My place?”

With your nod, he pulls you by the hand across the street, leading you beneath any overhang and awning that he can as you make a dash for the car. It may not be far, but it’s long enough that you’re dripping all over again by the time you reach the vehicle.

Sukuna blasts the heat. Although it hasn’t warmed up much yet, you both shuffle uncomfortably against the old leather. It sticks to any exposed skin and tugs at the wet fabric of your dress, a sentiment that Sukuna clearly feels with the way his slacks stick to his thighs. With no solution to his issue than to change, he huffs and casts a glance towards you.

Before pulling out of the parking lot, Sukuna leans over the center console to kiss you again, short and sweet. Before he can pull back, you take his face in your hands, cupping his cheeks. Stubble is just barely beginning to break through his skin, a five o’clock shadow growing in already.

Your thumbs travel his cheeks, pausing briefly on the faint scar that still protrudes beneath his right eye. It turns more prominent on his forehead where it tears through his brow.

He’s beautiful. Every tattoo, marking, and dimple. Every scar, the slit in his eyebrow, and frown lines that make him who he is.

“I think I like being able to call you my boyfriend,” you murmur, concealing your eagerness by biting down on your lower lip.

Although his face remains aloof, the increase in temperature of his skin within your hold gives him away. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss him once more, though you surprise him by pecking his forehead.

His face pulls into a scowl as he steals a kiss on your lips, the hunger from your moment in the rain still lingering in the way he presses you into the seat.

When he pulls back, he adjusts himself in his seat, the tightness of his damp slacks now causing a completely different issue. You barely manage to stifle your giggle, but he catches the humorous breath you let out.

“Don’t,” he growls, pulling out of the parking lot before you can embarrass him.

The latest pop on the radio serves as a backdrop for a comfortable silence. The kind that settles like a warm blanket. Coupled with the heat that finally kicks in, you enjoy watching the trees blur by on the short drive.

“Sorry.” It slips from his lips like he doesn’t mean to say it.

“Hm?”

“That it took me so long to figure this shit out. My feelings.” The last words sound a bit like they choke him, but you appreciate his honesty. “Satoru and Toji of all people kinda had to spell out for me how stupid I was.”

“It was a bit confusing with all the handholding and hugs and stuff,” you admit, before realization hits you. “Wait, you’re getting your relationship advice from Satoru and Toji?”

The salmon-haired man snorts, flashing you a smirk. “Yeah, no wonder I suck at this shit, huh?”

You giggle at the thought of Toji offering any sort of love advice. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing pretty good right now.” But another thought has you stifling more laughter. “If they didn’t point it out first, I think Yuji would have made it pretty obvious when we watched Ice Age 2.”

With a scoff, he pulls into his building’s lot. “The little brat doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“I think he’s pretty funny,” you tease.

“‘M sure you do,” he grumbles. He chooses to ignore you as he makes his way around the car to help you out, relieved to find that the slew of reporters has begun to dwindle. He wrings his suit jacket out a bit before draping it over your shoulders to protect you from the onslaught of remaining photographers as he blocks you to the best of his ability, still refusing any questions.

By now, he hoped they would have given up, but Noritoshi Kamo is a big enough name to really gather attention.

Making your way up the building to his door, Sukuna locks it behind you and finds the both of you met with silence, something his apartment hasn’t heard for some time. Normally, he would hate the silence, but with the knowledge the kids are safe and he’s here alone with you, it’s nice. Intimate. A pocket of time all to yourselves.

He kicks off his shoes, watching you stumble over yourself in an effort to bend down in your form-fitting attire to undo your strappy heels. Clicking his tongue at the sight, he gives your lower back a guiding press in order to lead you to his couch.

“I’ll get it wet,” you protest with a pout.

There’s an all-too-smug smirk crossing his lips at your statement. “I don’t mind.”

Playfully shoving his bicep, you conceal your shy smile with a look at the floor beneath you.

Although Sukuna’s glad you aren’t quite as meek as you were when you first met, having grown more willing to stand your ground, he’s equally glad to find that he can still fluster you. Especially given the effect you have on him.

Plopping down onto the couch, your pupils blow wide at the sight of Sukuna getting down onto his knees before you for the second time since you’ve known him. This time, the sight sends a shiver down your spine as he looks you straight in the eye with an expression that sends a wave of hunger through you. From his lidded eyes to the relaxed line of his lips that isn’t quite a smile, but something that tastes of more.

His calloused skin grasps your calf as he undoes and slides your first heel off, tossing it aside. He follows suit with the next one, before both hands settle in the ditch of your knees and he pulls you towards him. With a shocked and mildly embarrassing squeak, your hands brace on his shoulders. Your knees collide with the wall that is his abs, before instinctively parting as he pulls you to the edge of the couch, stationary between your legs.

Your dress is bunched up around your upper thighs, barely covering anything as it sends heat straight to your face. Your heart pumps loud enough that in this silence, you’re sure he can hear it.

If he does, he gives no indicator. His focus is solely on the skin of your legs, bared to him and still-cold from the moisture clinging to them. The lump in his throat bobs once as his palms glide from their place beneath your knees, sliding up to grip the top of your thighs. His thumbs create divots in your skin from subtle pressure, sending your heart leaping from your chest with the attention he pays you.

Your breath hitches when his gaze holds yours with insistence as he brings his lips down to one thigh. It’s a form of worship that’s enough to make you shudder.

When he pulls back, his hands glide up your thighs until they reach the wet dress bunched up by your hips. Pulled from his trance, he’s reminded of the reason you both turned in for the night in the first place. A muscle in his jaw shifts, and when he looks up at you, the crimson eyes that make him stand out so much have nearly been swallowed by his pupils. “Let’s go warm my girl up.”

He pats your thigh once, pushing up to full height and offering his hand. Even as you take it, your brain is still short circuiting as it tries to figure out whether that’s an innuendo or not. He doesn’t leave you long to consider it before you’re standing behind him at his closet as he pulls a handful of comfy clothes out for you.

Peering curiously at what he chose for you– a metal band shirt and the pair of sweatpants that barely fit him that he always reserves for you– you find yourself tilting your head and rotating the shirt in an effort to decipher the band’s name. It’s borderline illegible, the white streaks and strands across the black hoodie supposedly meant to spell something, though you can’t make it out.

You suppose it isn’t just borderline illegible after all.

Oddly enough though, it is in the shape of a frog. Which is cute, you suppose.

Pulling out a hoodie for himself, Sukuna snorts at your squinting expression. “You’re not gonna figure it out.”

“What does it say?”

He cranes his neck to take a look at it. “Frog Mallet, I think.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head uncertainly. “Yeah, I think I see it. Do you listen to them a lot?”

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “I’m more of a grunge metal or nu-metal guy, but they opened for a concert I saw, have a fun gimmick, and I liked the design. Thought you might too.”

“What’s their gimmick?”

“All of their songs are about frogs.”

You crack a smile at the absurdity of a metal band singing about frogs as he turns back to his closet to grab a pair of sweatpants and boxers, which reminds you of just how much you’re looking forward to warming up.

In more ways than one.

“Hair dryer’s under the sink if you need it,” Sukuna grunts over his shoulder as you slip over to the washroom. You return feeling a fair bit warmer, albeit a little bare after deciding a hair dryer would not fix your soaked bra.

In an effort to dry them, you hang up your soaked clothing and make your way back to Sukuna’s room as he pulls his hoodie on over sculpted muscle. His gaze slides towards you, his expression remaining aloof in spite of the leap in his chest. Seeing you in his clothes bears a new meaning knowing he gets to call you his now, too.

He clears his throat as you bound towards his bed, plopping down at the edge of it. Leaning back on splayed palms, you gaze up at him with the kind of smile that could melt glass.

“Warmer?”

“Mhm!”

“Good,” he hums as he collapses on the bed, relaxing against the headboard with shut eyes. His whole body decompresses, an air of peace curling around him like the wisps of smoke he’s let go of. His gaze flickers open, his head tilting as he beckons you closer with a curl of his fingers. “C’mere.”

Scooting back on the bed, you barely make it halfway before you’re caught by bulky arms and dragged over his lap. You sit stationed on one side of his thighs, your legs thrown over his lap as he cradles you close to his chest.

There’s a light thump as he lets his skull drop to the headboard. “Fuckin’ rain,” he grumbles. “I was gonna take you to a market after dinner.”

“Ooh, like a flea market?”

He lifts his head as he nods. “An art market. Figured it was the kinda thing we’d both be into.”

You pout at the saccharine thought poured into your night together, even if things hadn’t worked out from the beginning. “That would have been fun! Maybe next time? They’ll probably reschedule if they got rained out today.”

He hums, sliding his hand up your leg to squeeze your thigh. “Next time,” he agrees, shifting to steal a kiss. “But this is nice too,” he smirks against your lips, finally finding his footing to shake the sensation of inadequacy.

“I definitely don’t mind this,” you breathe, splaying your hands over his built chest as you lean in to reciprocate.

The world slows. He moves slow. You both do, in tandem as you match one another. Your breaths, your lips, and the minute shuffling of your clothes under each rise and fall of your chests are all that permeate the air.

His mind no longer swims with shortcomings, drawing blank while simultaneously flooding with wave after wave of you.

Your smile, the gleam in your eye when you’re happy, the way you laugh when Sukuna does something stupid.

Your unending support, the way you always put others first, your effortless ability to reel him into your security.

The curve of your nose, the way your hair falls into place, how everything you wear compliments you beautifully.

Your thighs.

Your curves.

He doesn’t intend to, but his jaw parts, pulling away with a hitch of his breath. The silence is thick, cut with every inhale, but it’s the look in your eyes that gets him the most.

The way desire speaks for itself in the form of blown out pupils. The heat he feels radiating from your cheeks, running warmer than he is. A simultaneous desire and bashfulness that encapsulates everything he’s come to know about you.

He grips your thigh, guiding you to straddle his waist. It’s familiar in the kind of way that should be terrifying, but with an official title tying you to one another in a pretty red bow, neither of you lets it stop you.

His lips don’t move quite as slowly when they capture yours again. There’s a newfound confidence that he was born to inhabit, one breathed into every movement. His palms settle on your hips like gravity, his grip curling into the fabric of the oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders.

He kisses you like he may never get a chance again. The grip he has on your hips grounds him, it grounds you, as your head spins when his tongue glides across your lower lip. Your lips part on instinct as the taste of him floods your mouth. It’s different than all those months ago– both in the way he takes his time learning you, and the smokey quality to his taste having completely disappeared.

He curses under his breath when you pull back for air, giving you no time to get your bearings when he pulls you back by the nape. His pulse hammers against your palm, synced to the speed in which yours races in your ears.

“Kuna,” you breathe his name like a prayer. His fingers curl into your hair as he kisses the corner of your lips in a silent reply. His eyes flicker open. The gaze you’ve grown accustomed to is eclipsed entirely by his pupils blown wide with lust. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, your thighs clenching around his waist on instinct.

He swallows thickly at the sensation. You feel him then, long and hard as every shuffle of your hips has him twitching beneath you. Your breath catches in your throat as you experimentally roll your hips down. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes roll back, fluttering shut as he lets out a breath. “Fuck,” he breathes, wrecked. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You can’t be sure whether it’s selfish or servicing that you roll your hips again, searching for the dizzying sensation of friction as a wet patch forms on your panties. He shudders beneath you, dipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt as his hands explore your curves. His fingers trace over stretch marks, scars, and goosebumps alike, mapping them out like constellations as he stares at you reverently.

His gaze lowers as he takes the hem of your shirt and makes a move to bring it up over your head. Your nerves rear their ugly head as he barely lifts it halfway, your fingers curling into his hoodie as you go rigid. For all the attention he’s paying to you right now, of course he notices. He stops dead in his tracks, lowering the hem as he scrutinizes your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing–!” You insist, too quickly. Sukuna straightens, his brow pinching as he searches for answers. With a breath to steady yourself, you let yourself relax, mentally assuring yourself it’s just nerves. “It’s really nothing, I promise.”

Your shirt falls to your thighs as Sukuna cradles your face. “Talkin’ to one another isn’t a one-way street, angel.”

Letting out a breath, you nod. “You’re right. Sorry.” His thumbs brush your cheeks in reply. “I’m just nervous.”

“Mm.” You don’t get much more than a grunt in reply, as though he’s awaiting something more.

In an effort to quell the butterflies winding up within the pit of your stomach, words fall from your lips to fill the space. “I just– I like you a lot and I don’t wanna mess up, or disappoint you, or–”

Shutting you up with a kiss, Sukuna pulls back with a tight-lipped frown. “Where the hell’s this comin’ from?” But before you can even get a word in edgewise, he’s already connected the dots. It’s not exactly easy to get a reputation in college, especially when you’re not in a frat. No one gives a shit to get in others’ business when you’re drowning in exams.

He’s no stranger to the words that stick to him, bolder than his tattoos. That he’s good, big, but not to catch feelings. That he won’t acknowledge hookups after. That he’s got a penchant for being on the rougher side. That he’s a colossal asshole.

But he wants to leave that in the past, stack it up with every other terrible decision he’s been trying to make up for lately.

“You’re not gonna disappoint me.”

“But–”

Another peck on your lips. “Princess.” It’s just about the sweetest way he can tell you to shut up, though you know the words are on the tip of his tongue. He’s only holding back because every little shuffle of your hips makes it hard for him to think straight. “If you think I don’t feel the same way about you, then I need to do better. I worship the ground you fuckin’ walk on,” he gruffs, furthering the pounding in your chest.

“No, you’ve been amazing,” you murmur, cheeks heating up with embarrassment that the thought had even crossed your mind. You try to avert your eyes, but his hands hold you steady. “You’re right. Sorry, Kuna.”

“Stop worryin’ yourself over nothing. Let me treat my girl.”

If your face was warm before, it’s on fire now. “You know, you’re kind of a sap when you wanna be,” you tease.

“Mm, you’ve turned me into one.”

His grip on your cheeks loosens to let you fall into him. His eyes flicker shut as he figures you’re leaning in to kiss him, but your arms slide around his neck, your head burying into his shoulder. He blinks once, before snugly holding you.

“Y’know,” he ponders, “you’ve got me all worked up, too.”

You giggle, pulling back to look at him. “I can tell,” you hum, grinding down against him.

He huffs, his lips parting. “Brat. That’s not what I mean.” He returns his grip to your hips to stop you from shuffling around impatiently. “I’m nervous too,” he whispers, tentative but raw.

“You are?”

He shrugs, averting his gaze. Sex has never meant anything to him until now. It was a way to satisfy his needs, and that was the end of the story. But saying his thoughts like that to you right now feels entirely too vulgar, so he settles for something tamer. “You’re my first relationship. This means something to me.”

You suppose it’s never occurred to you that you might be. But putting the pieces together, everything adds up. “I trust you,” you offer. “This means something to me too.”

At the admission of your trust, he lifts the hem of your shirt again, waiting on you to give your consent.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, letting him pull it over your head and toss it aside.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his large hands roaming your curves. His gaze trails greedily across your bare skin, his hands following as he commits the sight to memory. His gaze settling on your breasts blows his pupils out further if it’s even possible, the crimson of his eyes a distant thought with every second he spends admiring the canvas of your body.

His palms round the plush of your breasts, giving them a tentative squeeze to test your reaction. You feel him twitch beneath you in response to the break in your breath, a smirk tugging at his lips. The worn pads of his thumbs slide up to brush your nipples, tearing a gasp that has him breaking into a full smirk.

For all his bravado, however, it softens, when he glides a hand up to your collar, beneath your necklace. His palm halts over your heart. Its beats stagger and leap, matching the beat of the blood in his ears. His lips purse, a chill running down his spine at the raw trust an angel like you has placed in his worn hands.

Your fingers curl into his hoodie when he pauses to admire you, giving it a faint tug, but he knows what you want. His arms cross over his front as he pulls it up over his head, adding it to the pile of discarded clothing on the ground.

Muscles, scars, tattoos, and the silver chain beneath his hoodie are bared to you, your gaze roaming down to the salmon happy trail running down into the hem of his pants. You shift your weight to glide palms down the washboard abs you’ve thought about more than you’d care to admit to him. His abdomen clenches as you do so, and whether it’s from the way your hips shifted or your fingers sliding over every peak and valley, you can’t say for sure.

He doesn’t move, watching every micro-expression with the intensity of a man starved. His patience comes as a surprise, but he’s so caught up on you that every moment is an eternity and a blur all at once. Minutes could be hours, but he couldn’t tell you if he tried.

Black ink carves stories into his pectorals, followed in a trail by your fingers until you reach his shoulders once more. The sensation of your small hands exploring the hard mass of his muscle has him shivering, actually shivering, and if he hoped you wouldn’t notice, he’d be out of luck.

A bashful smile crosses your face, equally sharing in his apprehension and eagerness. “You’re gorgeous,” you breathe.

You’re met with a raise of his brows, the wall of sudden interest to him as his already-flushed cheeks harshen. “Gorgeous?” His breath fans the bare skin between you, warm. His tone low, as sultry as it is gravelly. “That’s a new one.”

“A good new one?”

His chest rises beneath you. After a moment, he nods, finding your curious eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, good.”

“Good,” you whisper through the fluttering in your chest, pressing your weight against him to lean down and kiss him. Whatever tension remained in him finally gives as he melts within the warmth of your adoration. The world narrows, the sounds outside fading, the hum of the fridge distancing itself. It’s just the two of you, the sounds of smacking lips and the exchange of breaths.

For the first time– but not the last– sex isn’t just an act. It’s not about getting off and moving on.

It’s about connection. It’s about the way his arm wraps around your middle, holding you with the utmost care as he flips you, hovering over you without breaking the kiss. Even as you gasp, he swallows it, positioned between your thighs that spread on instinct for him.

It’s about the way he smiles. Not a smirk, or a grin. A genuine smile. The kind that matches the saccharine looks you always shoot him. It’s infectious, until you’re both smiling into the kiss.

It’s about the way every sensation and reaction is raw and real. That your nerves are shared, but soothed by the mere presence of the other.

As he pulls back, you would expect the room to feel cooler, but when his lips roam your jaw, lingering on your throat, everything heats up exponentially. Your hands fly to his hair as your head falls back into the downy pillow. A soft whimper parts your lips and Sukuna isn’t sure he’s ever heard something so intimate.

His breath shatters over your skin, the hitch evident when it falls like glass over your collar. He moves further down your body, your breaths turning to soft moans when he grazes your nipple. His gaze lifts when your fingers curl in his hair, a low grunt pulled from him as you unwittingly tug him away in the haze of euphoria.

Pulling himself back down, the flat of his tongue glides over your peaked nipple, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths beneath him. It sends sparks of electricity through your veins like lightning burning bright across a sky, shocking from limb to limb.

The way he moves, the way he learns, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. The first touch is always experimental, but he watches you with so much intensity that it’s like he knows exactly what you want before you do.

You suck in a harsh breath as he latches onto your nipple. “Sukuna,” you murmur, light and airy as he explores your body. His tongue flicks out and circles the sensitive skin, but what really makes you jolt is the sensation of him groaning at the sound of his own name dragged from your lips. He repeats his movements over your other nipple with more urgency, not out of a lack of patience, but from need. Chasing the sound of his name sung within your moans.

As he sucks on the peak of your breast and your fingers grip his hair, his eyes shut on instinct when he’s rewarded with a louder, more sure honeyed moan of his name. He’s quick to move up your body, crashing his lips against yours in ardor.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over you.

“Suku–”

He swallows the sugary whisper before you can even get it out. You latch your arms over his shoulders, fingers curling into the inked skin laid over muscle.

When he pulls away for air, his back rises and falls harshly beneath your fingers with each breath. His gaze flickers across your expression, drinking in your pleasured expression.

“Feel good, angel?” His voice has a heady quality that hits you hard. Your stomach flips as heat blooms between your thighs, instinctively tightening around his torso. He cracks a smile, something between smug and adoring, something so Sukuna, that tells you he already knows, but you nod anyway.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, something soft and sweet, before moving down the bed. He settles between your legs, the jittery sensation of bubbling nerves making themselves known when his fingers settle along the band of the rolled up sweatpants you borrowed. Reaching for the sheets, you ground yourself by gripping them.

His eyes, always attentive, flicker to your hands, cementing themselves in your gaze as you tentatively watch. “Nervous?” His words aren’t meant to tease. For once, there’s no condescension or grin, but a genuine search for understanding.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you give a nod. “Just a little.”

His thumbs rub soothing circles into your waist. Leaning forward to press a kiss just above the sweatpants, he murmurs his next words against the bare skin. “I’ll take care of you,” he assures, his breath tickling the sensitive skin. You squirm at the sensation, met with another smirk.

Giving his face a little shove at the realization he’s purposefully searching for ways to fluster you and make you squirm, you shake your head. Your smile isn’t lost on him, though.

His fingers curl around the waistband once more, silent searching permission swirling within his wide pupils.

“Please, Kuna,” you breathe as you flutter around nothing, lust outweighing your nerves.

It nearly undoes him to feel your hips shift eagerly. He doesn’t waste a moment sliding the sweatpants from your legs. He picks up right where he left off on the couch earlier, palms gliding up to your hips as he maps your body. “Shit, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he huskily groans. His gaze dips to the wet patch in your panties, lacey and the very same shade of red that you chose for your dress and his tie.

Chosen to match his fucking eyes.

He swallows thickly, squeezing the plush of your thighs. His thumbs are so close to your core that you can’t help the buck of your hips. Pulled from his trance, he smirks, slow and pleased. “Cute,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over the lacey fabric clinging to your hip. “Bet you did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

You try to hide your bashful smile, but it breaks though. “Maybe. The bra matches, too.”

Sukuna’s voice is rough as he lets out an amused hum at your reservation. “Sweet girl,” he hums, hooking his fingers around the fabric clinging to your hip. With a kiss to your inner thigh, he pulls them aside, tossing them into a forgotten pile of clothes. 

You shrink slightly as he doesn’t move for a moment, admiring the sight of you laid bare in your entirety beneath him. He doesn’t let you shy away, though, strong forearms wrapping around your thighs and tugging you closer. With a surprised yelp, your hands fly to his hair again, barely given a moment to ground yourself before he lowers his lips to your dripping entrance.

“Fuck, you’re wet, princess.”

It takes your breath away from the moment he connects with you. The sensation of his tongue dragging through your folds is soft at first as he measures your every reaction. Your moans grow louder as pleasure doesn’t just bloom but blossom, unfurling in your stomach with every flick of his tongue moving between your entrance and your clit. He doesn’t waste any time seeking what has you keening for more.

Sukuna groans as he etches every tremble, jolt, and shudder to memory. The bedside lamp frames you like art meant to be kept in a museum, now selfishly hidden from prying eyes. He keeps your thighs from closing around him with strong arms, amplifying the sensation of his tongue as he eats you out fervently. His grip on you is firm as he doesn’t let you shuffle away from him, set on tasting you when he pushes you over the edge.

“Ah–” You gasp as his tongue pushes between your folds, unintentionally pushing him deeper when your fingers curl in his hair. He groans, and that has the knot in your stomach tightening. It pulls so taut that the wave of your orgasm teeters right at the edge, ready to flood over at his beck and call. “Fuck, please–” You moan, your back arching off the bed in search of release.

You so rarely swear that Sukuna finds himself smirking, smug to pull such debauched noises from sweet you. Your walls flutter around his tongue, he knows you’re close, shifting forward to nudge his nose against your clit and send you over the edge.

“Ah–! Sukuna–!” You moan his name loudly as your abdomen clenches and you see stars, your climax rolling through you in rocking waves. Your boyfriend slows his movements to work you through it with slow drags of his tongue over your slit, pulling back once you slump in his arms. His lips are slick when he runs his tongue over them, cleaning up what he can of your orgasm from his chin before peppering kisses over your inner thighs in his grasp.

He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with you in spite of the aching tent in his pants that twitches with every moan and whimper that parts your lips. Pushing up onto his forearms, he shifts his body back over you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before lowering back down to share the taste of you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters between kisses.

When your lidded eyes finally flutter open as he lets you catch your breath, eyes hazy and undeniably mirthful, he grins.

“Hey, princess,” he gruffs. There’s a grit to his voice that has you biting your lip as you admire the bulky man above you. In spite of the lustful and smug aura that clings to him like the smoke he’s since put-off, there’s something charmingly eager and jaunty that fans it away as he yearns for your approval. “How was that?”

Too dazed to give much more than a nod, you smile back at him. “Felt so good, Kuna.”

“Mm.” He leans down to kiss your throat again, making use of the knowledge that it never fails to make you shudder. “Good.”

Sucking in a breath, you watch his movements stutter and his jaw lock as your hand trails low down his torso, bringing one finger to his waistline. He watches you intently, his jaw falling open as you trail your fingers over his clothed length. His eyes roll back, blinking intensely.

You’re no fool, Sukuna is almost seven feet tall and he’s all solid bulky muscle to go with it. He’s a big guy, and some part of you has always known he would be big. You’re not innocent to thinking about it. Not when he manspreads on the couch like it’s the only way to sit and wears the sluttiest gray sweatpants known to man.

Not that you’re complaining.

With everything you knew about him though, you hadn’t expected him to be so patient. To take his time worshipping you, to be so gentle when his hands know only how to be harsh.

But that’s Sukuna at his core, isn’t it? A man left to his own devices, facing the harsh cruelty of the world with a jaded lens, whose layers peel back to reveal a kindness reserved for those closest to him.

The man panting above you now– veins rippling over muscle as his chest heaves, sweat speckling the expanse of his chest– he proves that beneath snarky rebuttals and frustrated huffs lies someone even softer still than the amused banter and smirks you often share. Still undeniably sharp and a little vain, but leaving room for the vulnerability, weariness, and now something far greater. Something akin to devotion.

Still Sukuna.

But your Sukuna.

He swallows thickly, the lump in his throat bobbing as you stroke him over his sweatpants. A broken groan parts his lips. His mussed hair begins to stick to his forehead as sweat beads at his hairline. “Shit, I–”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever’s on his mind when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband. He groans, his hand flying up to catch your wrist. Pursing your lips as his eyes snap shut, you tilt your head.

“Kuna? Do you not want me to…?”

He blows a breath out through his nose, long and even. Even after being eaten out and cumming on his tongue, you’re still timid to the subject of sex. Cute.

What’s not cute is the dismay tinting his cheeks red. “I do,” he grumbles, his expression unreadable as his head hangs. He releases your wrist as you softly pull back, gathering his cheeks in your hands. When his expression meets yours, he’s tight-lipped, frowning with red that reaches the tips of his ears.

“What’s wrong?”

He frowns, then huffs. Heavy, but not irritated like usual. No, his pink-tinged cheeks tell you all you need to know. Reluctantly, he grumbles his confession like it might choke him were he any louder. “‘M not gonna fucking last if you…”

You smile, soft and reassuring. “Kuna–”

He tugs himself free of your grip, but rather than withdrawing, he chooses to bury his face in your shoulder, slumping more of his weight against you. “Don’t,” he warns in a low growl.

Running your hands through his hair one after the other, nails softly raking his scalp, you do your best to quell his nerves. “I’m not gonna tease you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You don’t get any acknowledgement from him, so you continue. “It’s normal.”

Another huff. An indignant ‘not for me’ that sounds an awful lot like a pout.

You smile softly, kissing the side of his head. “It’s flattering that you’re that into me. I promise.”

Another huff, softer now. He cranes his neck to place a kiss below your ear, lingering featherlight against your skin.

“It’s our first time together,” you offer, “we’re still figuring things out, right?”

He catches the subtle way you seek your own reassurance, still nervous yourself. He doesn’t point out, merciful to you as you are to him. His voice is muffled in the crook of your neck. “Right.”

But performance issues are something Sukuna has never struggled with, something he doesn’t know how to move past. It taunts him. He’s still hard. He aches for you. But his mind won’t move past the blockade.

“Kuna,” you breathe, soft. “Baby.” His muscles slump into you further, more of his weight pressing down against you, unbeknownst to the man disarmed by your sultry name for him. “It’s fine. I promise. It’s kinda hot, honestly. You’re doing good.”

His cock twitches once, twice, in quick succession against your thigh. You blink, the pieces falling into place that your brutish and aloof boyfriend might like the embrace of your softness and praise more than he lets on, but he doesn’t give you the time to think it through. His lips are on yours in an instant, the first kiss a silent gratitude, the second starved.

He lifts his weight again as your hands resume roaming his body. Gripping the flexed and bulging muscles of his veiny biceps, squeezing and exploring the arms he’s so often used to move you at his leisure. Manhandling you like you were his from the start. Like maybe the distance after your argument wasn’t when he started to feel a shift. Like it was well before that, and he just never knew it as anything more than lust.

Your fingers graze his pecs, passing up over the silver of his dangling chain and back down his abs. Every scar tells a story you long to know someday, but you’d be lying to say it’s what’s on your mind when the smell of sex clings to the air.

This time, when you reach his waistband, he doesn’t let up. He lets you move the waistband past his hips, as far as you can manage without breaking the kiss. He even helps, slipping them off with a hand splayed by your head to hold himself over you. You swallow his groan, pulling back yourself to switch the focus to him.

The bold font of branded boxers clings to his hips, unfairly framing him in a way that makes your stomach drop and flip all at once. You can hear the teasing already. ‘Like what you see?’ Hell, you expect it, expect to laugh and roll your eyes, but it never comes. Glancing curiously back at his expression, you find your answer.

He is smirking, you know he’s thinking it. But with a single layer of clothing between you, he’s nervous too.

“I want you,” he growls, low and heady. His gaze searches yours for permission. “Wanna feel you around me,” he rolls his hips, a muscle in his jaw working as a sharp breath passes through your lips with the sudden friction.

“I want you too.” You nod, fingers curling into his back. “Please, Sukuna. I’m yours.”

He reels back, stepping away to let his boxers fall to the floor.

Right. The thigh tattoos he’d mentioned. Matching the bands around each of his limbs. But that’s not where your focus is.

He’s undeniably long. Thick, too. Prominent veins pulse as they run up to the flushed head, curving slightly to one side. Precum has already gathered on his tip, leaking from the angry red head that jerks at the mere sight of you. Like a testament to how much he means it when he says he’s attracted to you.

When he hovers back over you, it becomes increasingly obvious just how much bigger than you he is. He towers over you in every sense, and the cock that hangs heavy over your abdomen sends jitters to the pit of your stomach.

Intently watching your expression as he leans back over you, his fingers glide through your folds. Gathering slick on his fingers as your jaw falls open, he slips a finger in your entrance, moving slowly as your stomach clenches. Any other day he’d make a comment about how he knows he’s big and isn’t about to try to push into you without first taking care to ease your tension.

Today, his thoughts scream only of you. Your pleasure. Your comfort. So he leaves the pride behind.

“Ah–” Your hand flies to his forearm, clinging to the muscle holding your boyfriend upright. The sensation of one finger slowly pushing into you is pleasant in spite of the accompanying mild sting, but his thumb rubbing steady circles over your clit is intense. Once he’s sheathed within you to the knuckle, a shiver rocks your body as the cool metal of the ring adorned on that finger kisses your entrance. “Fuck, K-Kuna.”

“Mm.” Sukuna curls his finger, a groan ripping from the back of his throat when you jerk your hips as it takes him no time to find the spot that has you clenching around him. He smirks as your nails dig into his skin, wasting no time in littering kisses across your breasts. His tongue smooths over every spot his teeth graze as he leaves a multitude of purpling marks across your skin, heightening the sensations as another finger slides in.

With two thick fingers buried deep inside and his lips marking your skin, you see stars with every curl of his fingers. His name falls from your lips like prayers for a man who’s scarcely ever seen an altar.

Your legs tremble with every skillful curl of his fingers, instinctively closing around his torso. “Hah– That feels–” You can’t finish your train of thought when your mind goes blank as he repeatedly presses the gummy part of your walls. His movements are steady, pleasure flooding you with each curl as you coat his finger in slick.

“Feels what, angel?” Sukuna spurs you on, husky.

“Feels– hah– so good, baby.”

He loves your nickname for him, he loves hearing his name fall from your lips in moans, but he adores to be called terms of endearment. There’s a hitch in his breath as he twitches against the bed, growing more and more hungry and desperate to be inside you.

He pulls his fingers from you, waiting for your pretty gaze to flutter open and meet him. Sliding them between his lips, he cleans his fingers with a pop! Smirking as your grip on his arm tightens, you feel your mouth go dry when his length glides through your folds, lubricating himself with the evidence of your lust.

Swallowing hard, your gaze flickers between the erotic way he sucks on his fingers and the sensation of the heaviness resting between you.

He makes you look small, and he’s thick to boot. You cast a nervous glance back up at him. 

His smirk softens, craning his neck down to kiss your jaw. “I’ll go slow,” he assures you.

At your nod, he lines himself up with your entrance, when a thought occurs to you. “Kuna?” Your hand splays across the sturdiness of his chest. “Condom?”

He blinks like it hadn’t even occurred to him, corners of his lips falling. “Fuck… Fuck,” he mutters, grunting as he pushes back from you.

At the bedside, he rifles through his drawer, casting a glance at you as he digs through all the junk and paperwork he’s tossed in there over the past few months. When he spots you grinning, lip pulled between your teeth in an effort to conceal it, he pauses, leaning over the bedside table on locked elbows.

“What?” He grunts.

You shrug, turning onto your side to face him. His gaze flashes down your body, sparks flying through your veins. “It’s just sweet to see you so flustered lately.”

“I’m not flustered,” he deadpans.

“Baby.”

If he wasn’t before, he is now. His cheeks take on a whole new shade of red as he stares at you with a continued frown.

“You know everything tonight’s been perfect for me, right?”

The quiet of the room stills. Something settles in the drawer but Sukuna pays the noise no mind. “Me forgetting a condom is perfect?”

You laugh, an airy sort of sound. “I mean, no, but,” you shrug, “I don’t know. It’s real. It makes the nerves and how clumsy and awkward I feel like I’ve been a little easier.”

The tension pulling his lips back dissipates. He may not reply, but the flare of exasperation settles. He pushes up from the desk, shooting you a sidelong glance as he pulls a condom from a box. “Found them, by the way,” he mutters. He tears it open with his teeth, which somehow feels like the most guy thing on earth, tossing the packaging aside and hastily rolling it down himself, though he pauses barely a quarter of the way down.

He sighs, forlorn, and blinks at you. You tilt your head questioningly, and had you blinked, you might have missed it. The faintest hint of something greater than just a smile. Like he’s choking down a laugh.

“It’s inside out,” he mutters. Embarrassment laces with humor as he fights his own laughter when you have to cover your mouth in any sort of attempt to spare him.

It doesn’t work for long. It slips out, natural and bubbly, as Sukuna hangs his head.

Like the final notch in a dam, his laughter slips loose, too. It breaks through the barricade as his shoulders rock with every chortle.

Because you’re right. For the first time, this isn’t a hasty attempt to wet his dick, but a moment of genuine nerves shared between two people so genuinely into one another that it intensifies everything tenfold. And really, what would your first time be together if not everything that embodies you both? Chaos, comfort, and a whole lot of stumbling and clumsiness along the way.

Dramatically discarding the condom in a garbage can beneath his desk, he pulls another one out, tearing it with his teeth again.

“Do you… need a hand?” You tease, grinning up at him as the atmosphere shifts with your laughter as your nerves settle at last.

His eyes narrow as he sheathes the rubber over his length, crawling back over you. “‘Do you need a hand?’” He mocks, scoffing warmly. “Fuckin’ brat.” He steals a kiss between your laughter as you practically double over, squealing gleefully when he presses his thumb into your waist just enough to tickle.

“Kuna,” you wheeze, breathless. “Wait, please–!”

He’s grinning now, his eyes crinkled at the corners in an unguarded fashion as he releases your waist. “Maybe you’ll think twice about making fun of me next time.”

Desperately trying to catch your breath, you give him a lazy one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe.”

“Done being a brat for now at least?” He queries with the faintest of warning squeezes on your waist. Your hands fly to his chest, nodding. “Good girl,” he purrs, the sound vibrating straight through your veins to your core. You clench around nothing, your hands gliding up to his shoulders and tugging him down closer to you.

“I need you,” you breathe, heat still coiling in your loin.

He meets your words with a nod. Obliging your needs, he dips a hand back down, slotting his lips against yours to swallow your moans. His thumb moves in deliberate circles around your sensitive clit, groaning as your nails graze the skin of his shoulders.

Pulling back for air, his restraint pulls taut as he shifts to line himself up with you. Lifting your head, you cling to his heavily rising and falling chest to ground yourself as you watch him sink into you with a sharp hiss. Just the tip first. The stretch is nothing like his fingers. There’s a sting first, one that he lets you ride out until it shifts into something different.

“Relax for me, angel,” he coaxes you as your muscles still give him some resistance. He licks his thumb, reaching back down to rub your clit. “Breathe.”

He must be able to read you like a book, because every time the burn of being stretched open shifts into pleasure is when he feeds you another inch. Every movement comes with a surprisingly sweet reassurance. Doing so good for me. Just a little bit more. Look so fuckin’ perfect.

When he’s buried to the hilt, your gaze flickers up to his. He’s already watching you, warmth swimming within shadows of lust– and something more. Something you’re not quite ready to put a name to, but something real.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, swallowing around the tightness of his throat. Every ounce of restraint is being poured into letting you adjust, but it snaps like an elastic pulled taut when your legs wrap tightly around his waist.

His hips stutter as he lowers himself over you. His forearms settle on either side of your head, holding himself at an angle where he can still watch you in spite of your overwhelming height difference. He’s slow first, your tight walls testing just how long he can last when he’s imagined this so many times.

You whine as he rolls his hips, feeling so full that every thrust leaves you feeling breathless. “K-Kuna,” you gasp as the last of any restraint dissolves into white-hot pleasure. “Don’t stop.” You can feel every vein that brushes your g-spot, every thrust carrying a weight that you’re certain is intentional, but his eyes are as hazy as yours. Acting on pure instinct and feeling.

It’s like nothing either of you have ever experienced. Pleasure unbound, coiling tight and ripping groans and moans from both of you. His breaths are heavy, his skin sticking to yours as sweat clings to you. He hunches down to lower his forehead to yours, the connection intensifying the sensations in a way you never thought possible.

The emotions that swirl in his eyes are so intense you can feel them dancing off your skin. Your nails drag across his skin, leaving harsh red streaks along the canvas of his back. He lets out a heavy breath between pants, every thrust intentional. It’s hot and overwhelming in spite of the slow way he chases your pleasure.

It builds slowly, like a song establishing its hook as he keeps a steady, deep rhythm. Every thrust feels as though it reaches your lungs, the overwhelming weight of him within and around you deafening you to the world.

He murmurs not your nickname, but your given name like a mantra, something you so rarely hear from him that it feels sacred.

Every twitch and jerk becomes more frequent within your walls, and he buries his face into your neck, his breath hot on your shoulder. “Been wanting this for so fucking long,” he groans, distracting himself in an effort to hold off on his climax when he already feels so close. “It’s everything I fucking imagined.” His hips still stutter, still drawing inevitably closer to falling apart, so hopelessly attracted to you. You’re everything he imagined.

“You f-feel so good, baby,” you breathe, unable to piece together a real reply when it’s the only thing on your mind.

One hand buries in your hair, cradling your head as he grounds himself. He kisses your neck over and over, his mind keening for more. More praise. More pet names. More of this. More of you.

It nearly sends him over the edge, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re mine.” It’s muffled, barely over a whisper when his teeth sink into your skin, careful not to harm you.

You cry out in pleasure, throwing your head back. His lips travel the length of your neck, kissing your throat, before crashing into your lips. Hard, heavy, fast, needy. His tongue pushes into your mouth like it’s all he knows, his hips pistoning at a pace that has you seeing stars as he pulls you back to the edge.

You tremble under him, whimpering his name until it all breaks. Wordless, the edges of your vision brighten a shade as the world spins.

His forearms tense. But what undoes him is the sensation of you clenching down on him in waves as the dam breaks once more and your arms and legs tighten around him. His hips harshly stutter as he cums with you, short and purposeful thrusts drawing out the moment for you both.

The room is a flurry of panting. Breath trying to be regained under the heady weight of sex. Neither of you move for a moment, lost in the feeling of you continuing to milk him, his abdomen seizing with every clench of your walls.

As he slowly relaxes, his weight presses down on you like a blanket of comfort. The cool sensation of his chain draped over your skin makes you shudder when he buries his face into your neck again. You stay like that for a long moment, reassured by the steady beating of his heart pressed to your sweaty chest that he’s slowly coming down from his high with you.

He shifts with a hiss of overstimulation as he lifts himself back up, a modicum of crimson visible once again in the rings of his eyes when he’s only a breadth away. He leans in, slow, gentle as he slots his lips against yours. They brush as he pulls back a hair’s length. “How’re you doing, angel?”

With a contented sigh, you nod. “Good. Really good.”

He smirks.

“You?”

He hums, unable to put an adjective to how lucky he feels, so he settles on something simpler. “Me too.”

After all, you get it.

And he was stupid for ever worrying that you wouldn’t.

He waits a beat before pulling out with a groan, sliding from the bed as you yawn tiredly. You unabashedly stare at his sculpted figure as he bends over to pick up a shirt and boxers. He pulls on the boxers, momentarily staring at the shirt before he uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow and tosses it into a laundry basket across the room.

Sitting upright, you move to swing your feet off the edge of the bed when he clicks his tongue. “Lay down,” he gruffs. “Let me take care of my girlfriend.”

You have to chew on your lip to hide your bashful smile.

He scours the floor for your panties, setting them beside you and kissing your temple. “Be right back. Stay here.”

“Can I have a pair of your boxers?”

He glances down at your panties, then across the room to his dresser.

“My panties are wet,” you pout. “Actually, they have been most of the day.”

He smiles sleazily.

“Not like that,” you reach out to lazily smack his hip, met with a snicker.

“Anything else, princess? Need water? Do you need a shower right now or somethin’?”

“Just water,” you smile at his thoughtfulness. “And my boyfriend.”

Pride swells in his chest as he makes his way out of the room to fulfill your needs.

He returns shortly, condom discarded, water in-hand, and two cloths– one damp, and one dry. Carefully, he cleans your still-trembling thighs before handing you a fresh pair of black boxers. Choosing a side of the bed, you pull the blankets up over yourself, awaiting your boyfriend as he finishes cleaning himself up, taking off his chains and rings, and discarding condom wrappers.

He pauses at the foot of the bed with a gruff “move over”.

“Oh, is this your side?”

His lips pull tight. “No. I just don’t want you near the door.”

Your lips form an ‘O’, at a loss for words as he watches you shuffle over.

His usual mild or disinterested expression has been replaced with something far warmer, albeit a bit fatigued. Though weariness clings to the circles beneath his eyes, it’s not the kind that plagues him. It’s peace. It’s the kind that allows him to gently slip under blankets with you, reaching over you to turn off the lamp like it’s where he belongs.

The blanket of darkness settles over you like an embrace as the lamp gives way to silver light weaving between the blinds. The warmth that surrounds you isn’t brought on by any amount of light though, it comes from the sensation of Sukuna’s bicep wrapping around your middle, pulling you into his chest as he lays on his back. Your leg tucks between his thighs, your arm draping across his abs.

His heart loudly beats beneath your ear, far calmer than it was when he was buried in you.

Undeniably still fast, though.

The room is still, silver tones bathing everything in a dull glow. The world outside has calmed, engines few and far between as the night draws in on all sides. Birds are dozing in their nests and the city has mostly turned in for the night. It’s just you and him, enjoying a pocket of peace, untouched by anyone else.

Your hand traces small patterns atop his pecs, rising and falling softly. You curiously explore the expanse of his torso in ways you couldn’t earlier, too drawn in by temptation. Your fingers pause over bumps, marks, and scars, mapping out stories long before you ever met him.

Your finger glides over a former tear that bites into his shoulder, pondering what sort of thing Sukuna might have gotten himself into.

Your thoughts must be loud within the silence, because he seems to read them. “I was four,” he hums, shifting to glance down at the mark he’s carried most of his life.

“What happened?”

He smirks, craning his neck towards you. Resting your chin on him, you watch him with a curious smile.

“I don’t remember it happening,” he starts, “but y’know those animals on springs at playgrounds that rock back and forth?”

“Yeah.”

“I violently threw myself off of one in an attempt to attack Toji on horseback.”

You barely manage to stifle your laughter.

“Not really sure how I landed on my shoulder. I got stitches there, Toji got ‘em on his back.” He cracks a fond smile. “My dad told me he only looked away for two seconds. He was mortified.”

“You two must have been a handful for him.”

He snorts. “Yeah. Apparently the intake nurse at the ER knew me by name.”

Your brows raise at the revelation. “You were there that often?”

He shrugs. “Broke both o’ my arms. Separately. An ankle, my nose, a few fingers…” He squints in thought. “Dunno. Other shit, too. I’ve gotten a lot of stitches. Was there for Toji sometimes, too.”

“How did you two even manage that?” You gape.

He smirks, rubbing a soothing thumb over your bare waist. “I threw myself off an ATV Toj’ stole from his family, fell in a box of Cho’s Lego, smashed a finger in a car door. Nothing that serious, just wasn’t a very careful kid, I guess.”

“Throwing yourself off of a stolen ATV definitely qualifies as serious,” you point out with an exasperated laugh at the idea of Sukuna’s poor father chasing after him.

“Not if you don’t get caught.”

“How in the world did you not get caught?”

He grins, now. “We returned the ATVs before his family found out. My dad didn’t know they were stolen, and didn’t talk to the Zenins.”

“You are so lucky.”

Sukuna takes pause at that thought. Back then, he wouldn’t have considered himself so fortunate. Toji was always running from his family, while Sukuna avoided his own house whenever his step-mother’s bright red overpriced car was in the driveway. Choso struggled to put things together until everything began to collapse and Sukuna never knew what to make of his relationship with his half-brother. That’s only the tip of the iceberg that Sukuna held up on his shoulders.

But looking back, he can finally see the moments worth cherishing. His entire childhood isn’t a smear on his record anymore. The poison is bleeding out, leaving behind a heart that beats stronger for it.

He remembers laughing with Toji as his dad picked them up from the theater after their first movie alone.

He remembers teaching Choso how to skateboard, buckling a helmet over his head in an effort to keep his dad’s worries at bay.

He remembers how proud his father was as they wandered through a museum and Sukuna curiously pieced together artifacts with the fragments of knowledge Jin had taught him at the time.

He remembers picking a cap up off of the floor at his high school graduation and handing it to his father as he wheeled him out of the ceremony. Jin’s voice, hoarse from treatment, had been fond as he teased Sukuna for having a big head.

He swallows hard as he regards the memory he had once locked away, so filled with grief he couldn’t bear its weight. For the first time, it feels… lighter. Maybe still a little bittersweet, but it doesn’t loom over him like a snake preparing venom.

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts. “What about this one?”

Your fingers trail over a scar the length of your thumb that trails across his pelvic bone. He grunts, nudging your hand away before wrapping it back around your waist. You chalk it up to being a sensitive area, unaware that he was deathly close to admitting it tickled.

Something in his expression shifts, lighter than the mild scowl he just shot you, though he masks it before you can figure it out. “Toji n’ I vaulted over a fence and I impaled myself on a nail.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp in disbelief. “Really?!”

That shift in his expression gleams now as he flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Nah. My appendix burst.”

You give his chest a light smack. “You’re such a dick,” you groan as he laughs, his chest rumbling beneath you.

“Mhm. Your dick, though.”

You roll your eyes, settling your chin back on his chest with warmer cheeks than before. “Yeah. My dick.”

“My girl,” he reciprocates the thought, his hand raising to move some stray hair from your forehead.

His fingers trail the length of your spine, gliding over skin smooth, scarred, and everything in between. He maps your stories as you tell him about the meaning of the paths that etch your skin, his gaze never once leaving as you speak. He commits everything to memory with the attention of someone cataloguing the stories away as though they’re his own.

When your voices wear thin and your eyes grow lidded, the quiet of the night slipping in around peaceful souls, you slowly find your head lowering to Sukuna’s chest. Your lashes flicker in an effort to stay awake with him, but his muscles are loosening too.

You yawn, your voice lowered under the blanket of fatigue. Cracking your eyes open just enough to see his peaceful expression, you smile to yourself, your gaze landing on the ink carved into his chest.

“What do your tattoos mean?”

He sucks in a breath, his eyes still shut as he replies. “Nothing, really.”

“You just liked them?”

He takes a beat before replying. For a split second, you think he might just have fallen asleep. “They were a rebellion or something, I guess.”

“A rebellion,” you parrot his words with a yawn. “Against… who?” You can’t imagine based on the way he talks about his father that it would be him.

“Dunno,” he admits. His mind grapples for a reason behind them, but truthfully there’s no meaning to his reasoning. “They just felt like something I could control, I guess.”

You peer up at him, though he’s still the picture of a man nearly asleep. The lines of his brow have smoothed over, his entire body sinking into comfort. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen, I think.”

You bury your face into his chest at the thought of a young Sukuna grappling with the fact that his life seemed so out of his own hands that he reached for anything to feel a sense of control. And to think it was probably booked before his dad even got sick, you can only imagine how your boyfriend handled things after.

“They let you get tattoos at that age?”

“They shouldn’t,” he huffs, half-amusement, half-seriously. “The shop was pretty careless. The artist was good, though.”

“I like them,” you smile against his skin. “They suit you.”

He yawns. “Thanks, princess.”

For the first time since the trial, Sukuna’s nightmares turn into dreams.

main masterlist || series masterlist || ⏮ prev || next ⏭ - coming soon

❦ a/n ; hiii my loves!! i genuinely can't believe this series is coming to a close in one more chapter :') it's been such a blessing to share this journey with you all so thanks for sticking with me on the slowest burn ever

i hope it was everything you all hoped for <33 i took a lot of time working on the smut to make it special and i hope it lived up to expectations. those two saps are so in love and such yearners but i also wanted to share that first times aren't perfect and that's okay and i wanted to capture that realism here :) they're the kind of people who get to find comfort in one another and can talk and laugh together during sex and that's the foundation that builds a lasting relationship

the same goes for their date of course!! i really wanted to capture the fact that sukuna will go to any length to make her happy, but that's not really the kind of couple that they are at the end of the day. i wanted to find a sweet way to show that they've learned to embrace the chaos and that they don't need extravagance to have a sweet date

i'll quit yapping but i'd love to hear your thoughts as always and i hope it all lived up to your hopes <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut @hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @mad-katsuki @timetoletmyimaginationfly @clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig @spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @vadergf @ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears @tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts @lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811 @toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @angel-loganswife @privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast @axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[to00fu]

didnt watch heated rivalry but i like this particular photo

[w0rm3y]

Swallow | R. Sukuna | Stop Pretending Like You Know Me

── .✦ pairing || felon!sukuna x teacher!reader

── .✦ summary || In the midst of grieving your late husband, you're looking to take on any distraction you can get. And lucky for you, your findings led you right to Sukuna, who was searching for the very same thing...

“Go on,” he urged you, giving your cheek a few pats before dropping his hand. “Swallow.” …and you did. 

── .✦ overall content & warnings || MDNI, heavy angst, grief & mourning (Reader is a widow), explicit sexual content, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, bad communication, terminal illness & death (not Reader or Sukuna), mentions of ED, mentions of infertility, relapse, alcoholism, addiction, depression, flashbacks, therapy, lots of drama, lil age gap (Sukuna is 26, Reader is 30), custody issues, Yuji and Sukuna are brothers, Yuji and Megumi call Reader sensei, Sukuna is on probation, and he's kind of an asshole, but they get through it together. happy ending, I promise :)

── .✦ this chapter || wc. 10k. the plot is progressing some more :) 2 flashbacks (lit any part where Nanami is alive is a flashback). sexual content. handjob. they do get a little frisky behind a dumpster. sort of alludes to Sukuna being inexperienced. Sukuna with a hint of submission. he's still kinda mean tho. angst. therapy sessions. underage drinking. mentions of car crashes, death, and mental illnesses (only while Sukuna is in therapy). sort of like the fake-dating trope, but it's fake-sponsoring instead. I really like this chapter. I hope you all do, too <3

master list || last chapter || next chapter

“Ken,” you called out to him, peeking out of the kitchen and into the living room where your boyfriend sat on the couch, deeply engrossed in his crossword puzzle. “What are the chances of us still going to look at the lights tonight?” 

“I don’t think the weather is going to get any better, sweetheart, but I’ll check.” 

He set down the puzzle booklet and grabbed the TV remote to turn on the local news channel. As he watched, you went back to working on the dessert, a recipe you were following from Ken’s mother’s cookbook. It was getting close to her birthday, and you knew that was bothering Kento, even if he tried to deny it. 

You never had the chance to meet the woman before she died, but you’d heard stories about her from your boyfriend and could tell that she and Ken were close. You were hoping his favorite treat from his childhood might make him feel a bit better.

So entranced with the task at hand, you didn’t hear him enter the kitchen behind you. It wasn’t until you felt his arms around your waist that you even knew he was there. The contact was startling, making you jolt forward and nearly spill the ingredients you were whisking together.

“You scared me,” you lightly scolded, more playful than actually irritated. “So, what’s the verdict? Lights or no?”

“The winter weather advisory suggests staying off the road unless it's necessary,” he answered, pressing his mouth to your neck for a chaste kiss. “So, the real question is how badly do you want to see these lights?”

A small, content smile found its way onto your mouth. “You’d risk your car in this weather to take me to see the lights?”

“If that is what my woman desires, then so be it. But I’m really hoping she’ll reconsider because I happen to like that car a lot.”

For as much as he talked about it, you knew that to be true, so it only made it easier for you to make your decision. The lights could wait until it was safe to drive through the snow. However, you thought it was a prime opportunity to mess with your boyfriend a bit.

“I don’t know. She really wants to see the lights tonight, so it might take some convincing.” 

It only took you shifting your hips back to press your ass against him a few times before your bowl of batter was abandoned, and you were taken to Ken’s bedroom. 

Your wish to see the lights was briefly forgotten about, and only resurfaced again a few hours later when Ken returned from the kitchen with the glass of water you had requested.

“Definitely a good thing we didn’t decide to go. The news is covering a wreck downtown that’s causing a big traffic jam. We would’ve gotten caught in that on our way back.” 

You accepted the glass of water with eager fingers. “I hope whoever it was is alright.”

“Not to be morbid, but I doubt it,” he began, sliding back onto the bed beside you. “The pictures they were showing didn’t look too good.”

“That’s sad.” Ken nodded in agreement with you. “Too bad they didn’t have someone like you to talk them down from leaving their house.” You emptied the cup and placed it on your nightstand before cozying up next to your boyfriend, who took you into a warm embrace. “It’s kinda scary to think about.”

“Being in a car wreck? I’m sure most people would agree.”

“No,” you giggled, poking at his bare chest. “It’s scary to think that decisions hold so much importance, and even the ones you think are so small could actually end up killing you. What if whoever that was decided not to go out tonight? Or what if they had waited just a few seconds longer? Or what if they had taken a different street? The wreck could’ve been avoided. And what if it didn’t kill the driver, but paralyzed them instead? They’ll spend the rest of their life thinking about the what-ifs.”

“I really hope that isn’t what happens from this accident. A life full of pondering things that didn’t happen sounds miserable. And sometimes things are just out of our hands. What if they had taken a different street and hit a bigger patch of ice? What if they had stayed home and the house had ended up catching on fire with them inside?”

You frowned and propped yourself up beside him. “What’s your point?” 

Kento shrugged. “Sometimes bad things are meant to happen to people. And sometimes people are just meant to die. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.”

Your sight narrowed in his direction. “I can’t tell if you’re just being insensitive, or if that was your shot at trying to sound spiritual.” He rolled his eyes as you went on to ask, “How can you say that after what happened with your mother?”

“Despite what you think, my mother was meant to pass when she did, and I know she’d agree with me. It was her time, and because of her death, all these other things have happened–good things. Like how I met you. If my mother were still alive, I wouldn’t have gone into my field of study, never become a psychiatrist, and never have had a part in your college project. You would have asked some other psychiatrist.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, feeling rather bewildered. You tapped his bare chest again. “I think I’ve got it figured out now, Ken.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.” When your mouth twitched into a grin, he knew whatever you were about to say was something he didn’t want to hear. Quickly, he batted your hand away as you continued, “You’re talking out of your ass. I know damn well you don’t think bad things are meant to happen to people. You’re too nice a person, and that’s a very negative mindset. Thought you were supposed to be positive all the time.”

“Why does everyone think that?” He wrangled you over top of him, playfully tapping his fingers against your bare waist until you started laughing. “I’ve always seen the glass as half-empty, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing. In some ways, it’s a positive. To not get stuck on what could have been and to look on the brighter side. You just see the glass as half-full, but that’s why we work so well together, you know.”

Before you could respond, from the nightstand, his work phone started vibrating, bringing you to scoff, “Seriously?”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” 

Gently, he rolled you off his body, giving you a quick kiss before grabbing his phone to take the call outside of the bedroom. With a huff, you situated yourself deeper under the blankets, soaking up the warmth. The muffled chatter of him on the phone drifted into the room, but you couldn’t understand him. It was always like that–Ken speaking low enough that you could really hear him–but that was to be expected with confidentiality, and all that. 

You wondered if that’s what he sounded like talking to you on the phone, too. Does he use that same soft, comforting voice? The one that never ceases to keep you as calm as can be. The one that gives you the reassurance that you need. The one he uses to talk you through it–morning, noon, or night.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, the door opened again, with a not-so-calm Kento entering to quickly dress himself in the clothes he’d tossed on the floor only a few hours ago.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, that car wreck included a patient of mine, and I-” He dragged a hand through his hair when he stopped to breathe. “He’s in the hospital right now.”

“Fuck–is he alright?” You sat up in bed, holding the sheet to your chest. “Wait, wait. You’re not leaving, are you?” He didn’t answer you, too busy getting dressed, too frantic. That’s when you realized. “It’s that boy, isn’t it?”

Only then did he pause.

That boy–the one Kento had been treating for a few years and was what you deemed to be a problem child, yet for some reason, Ken carried a massive soft spot for him.

“Yeah.”

Well, that was that. 

Convincing your boyfriend to stay would not happen. The only other person Ken would risk his car for is this boy–second to you, of course.

“Please be careful. You’re no help to him if you’re dead, okay?”

“I know.” He bent over the bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be back. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

After getting his text that he’d made it to the hospital safely, you waited up for him as long as your eyes would allow, but ultimately, you ended up falling asleep. 

When you woke up hours later, the sun was in the sky, but the bed beside you was still empty. It was a worrying thought, but it quelled itself as soon as you heard the water running in the bathroom.

Slipping into the shower behind your boyfriend, you immediately wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your face into his back. He didn’t turn to greet you, but he did drop his hands to the ones you were holding onto his chest with, and gave them a squeeze.

“Was worried,” you mumbled, pressing your mouth into his shoulder. 

“Sorry. I was going to wake you when I got home, but you just looked so tired.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now. That’s all that matters to me.” 

He hadn’t washed himself yet, you noticed, you couldn’t smell the soap. You released your hold on him and grabbed his favorite wash, finally filling the room with the familiar scent as you gently scrubbed at his skin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, earning your hum.

“How’d it go? Is he…”

“He’s alive. Needed surgery first. But I got to talk to him before I left.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yes,” he whispered in a tone that wasn’t entirely him. 

It was off-putting, to say the least. An uneasy sense filled your chest, bringing you to say, “Ken, if you want to talk… I mean, I don’t have the fancy degree like you, but I can still listen.”

He shook his head. “I could lose my license-”

“Only if someone finds out. Which they won’t.” Another bout of silence fell over the shower. “It’s just us in here. You know I would never say a word to anyone. And you don’t even have to tell me his name, not even all the details. Just… whatever you need.”

He nodded again, slowly, letting the room fall quiet, but only for a moment before finally speaking.

“His father was driving, and they started arguing, then hit a patch of black ice. The officer I spoke with said he was trying to… revive his father when they got there. The doctors say he was killed on impact, but the kid says he watched him die.”

“Oh, god. That’s awful.” You felt your stomach roll at just the thought of it. “I can’t even imagine how horrible that must’ve been.”

“He thinks it’s his fault,” he continued dejectedly, “He just started to open up about his mother, and he just started talking to his father again–he was making progress, but I can already tell we’re back at square one, and that’s even if he continues to see me. But there’s no one there to force him to see me–and I know forcing him sounds terrible, but it’s what he needs. He thinks he’s too self-aware to be depressed, and he thinks he’s too smart to be there, and on some level, that’s true. He’s so fucking difficult sometimes, but he’s…”

You let him gather his thoughts in silence and didn’t push him to speak as you cupped water from the shower head and dumped it over his shoulders to rinse away the lathered soap.

“Before, when I said that sometimes bad things are meant to happen to people, I never meant him. I wish I had never said that to you earlier. What I think I really meant was that people get what they deserve– that bad things aren’t supposed to happen to good people. And this boy, despite what he thinks about himself, is good.”

* * * 

Ten Years Later

After the previous incident with your student’s brother–the fish incident, to be specific–a few weeks had passed since you’d seen him last. Not that you were really complaining; Sukuna was a major asshole who had a knack for burrowing so fucking deep under your skin. 

But you had to admit that you’d thought about him a lot, and while you were okay with not having to see him again, part of you wanted nothing more. And you had to wonder if that part of you had control over your body the evening after your group therapy meeting in the community hall. 

Your mother had let you know that she wouldn’t be able to pick you up again, though you weren’t surprised. Since forcing you to attend the therapy sessions, you’d noticed that she was starting to grow very bored with the whole thing. And if you were lucky, she’d eventually disregard it entirely, allowing you to keep your Wednesday evenings free of therapy.

You weren’t lucky very often, so the chances of that happening were slim to none, but there was no harm in hoping.

-You: Meeting is over.

-You: You’re missing yet again.

As you waited for her response while the other attendees filed out of the hall, you took a seat in the back row.

-Mom: Be there in half an hour. Don’t leave. We need to talk.

Lovely.

Because what you needed was a talk with your mother instead of going home to decompress from your stressful day.

-You: And we can’t talk about it over the phone?

Your attention moved down the row of chairs when a familiar jacket was tossed over the back of a seat, followed by the familiar jacket-wearer slumping down right next to it. Taking a look at the time, you realized he was a bit early. The EDA sign hadn’t even been changed over to AA yet.

Sensing your stare, Sukuna glanced over, and for a moment, you locked eyes. You offered him a friendly wave, which was not reciprocated before he rolled his eyes and turned to face away from you. Your mouth fell open as you scoffed under your breath and slid down the row to sit right behind him.

“Hi, Sukuna,” you dragged out playfully, making the man stiffen in his seat. “You’re a bit early.”

“I’m seriously not in the mood to handle your bullshit, so fuck off.”

The grit in his voice sounded serious, so much so that you hesitated even opening your mouth again. However, hesitation doesn’t equate to action, which is why you opted to speak again, against your better judgment, of course.

“You don’t always have to be so rude, you know?”

His retort was almost instantaneous. “And you don’t always have to shove your nose into other people’s business, yet here we are.”

“I’m not really… you know, prying for information. Just making conversation-”

“I don’t want to make conversation with you. Ever.”

You tutted at him, softly poking at his shoulder. “I wonder, is this how you normally treat people? If so, it’s a shit approach-” 

Abruptly, Sukuna grabbed your hand and swiveled to face you in his chair. The contact was startling and had your mouth drying out, worsening when you noticed a certain look in his eyes. You had genuinely pissed him off this time.

“Not sure what I’ve done to make you think we’re closer than we actually are, so cut the shit.” His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned in closer as if the proximity was going to get his point across. “I don’t give a damn if you’re Yuji’s teacher. I don’t like you. I don’t want to get to know you. I want you to leave me the fuck alone. Got it?”

You cleared your throat, swallowing down the thickened saliva while gently trying to pry your hand out of his grasp. 

“I just… well, I thought-” The next words you wanted to say–maybe we could be friends, Sukuna–never left your mouth. When his grip tightened, you mumbled, “Got it,” and only then did he release you, tossing your hand back into your own lap. “I’m sorry-”

And like the last time you approached him in a meeting, he replied, “Go be sorry somewhere else,” and turned away from you, leaving you to stare at his tense shoulders.

“Okay,” you mumbled with a humorless chuckle and grabbed your own coat. “Got it.”

You slipped out of the meeting hall feeling a bit confused about your own behavior. It wasn’t like you intended to try to befriend the man. After all, you hardly knew him. But there was a feeling of familiarity that surrounded him that you found yourself clinging to. 

Or maybe familiarity was the right word, and instead, you felt as though you could relate to him. You both attended therapy groups, and you both clearly had your own issues to work through.

But there was a part of you that couldn’t help but make some kind of deeper connection to him, even if you had never met him before in your life. You weren’t spiritual enough to assume you’d met up in a past life, but that’s almost what it felt like at times.

No, that’s definitely not it. You were merely drawn to him because he seemed to be just as fucked up as you. Birds of a feather flock together, and all that. And perhaps you were a tad lonely, too. 

You knew that Shoko, Utahime, and Gojo were always there for you, but they didn’t truly get it. They can say that they understand until they’re blue in the face, but at the end of the day, they’ve never experienced what you have. And trust, you’re not trying to feel sorry for yourself; you were just stating the facts.

Of course, they lost Nanami the same day you did, but they also didn’t lose their other half as you did. They didn’t lose the one person who kept them grounded, the person who made them feel whole.

Somehow, some way, it felt as though Sukuna had experienced the same level of grief as you, and it was… comforting. And just as it was comforting, it was also so fucking odd because you didn’t know him at all, and he clearly did not want that to change.

You waited in the lobby for your mother for an hour before she finally showed up. The air in the building shifted into something colder as soon as she stepped inside, and you knew it had nothing to do with the cold draft that followed her in. It was just the way she was, always toting around a chilled, numbing effect, which only seemed to affect you.

As soon as she spotted you, she approached with precise steps, heels clicking on the tattered linoleum. You didn’t stand to greet her, and she didn’t expect you to, either. The relationship with your mother was just as numbed as the air she put off. It had always been that way. 

“How was the meeting?” she asked, coming to a halt in front of you. 

“Fine. It would’ve been better if I didn’t have to sit here for an hour afterward to wait on you.”

“Well, this part should be quick. You’re getting yourself a sponsor. I just want to mention it to the host, so they’re made aware-”

“Woah, wait. A sponsor?” She gave a slow nod. “I don’t need one. I’m doing just fine-”

“It’s not up for debate, actually.”

“The hell if it isn’t.” You stood then, grabbing your coat in the process, readying yourself to brush past your mother. “I’m not getting one-”

“You are.” She grabbed onto your bicep to stop you from leaving. “Someone has to be here to make sure you’re staying on track.”

“Yeah? I thought that was supposed to be you. What happened to that, huh?” You pulled away from her, wincing when her manicured nails scratched against your skin. 

“I can’t always be the one to babysit you-”

“No one is fucking asking you to! I’m a grown woman, and the only reason I come to these damn meetings is because of you!” Her lips pressed flat, eyebrow cocked as she waited for you to backpedal. Little did she know, you weren’t going to. “I don’t need these meetings–I don’t need a sponsor. What I need is a mother who doesn’t hold me right underneath her thumb, so back off.”

Her eyes flicked down your body, eyeing you over critically, and in a manner that never failed to make you feel so insignificant. When she settled her sights on your face again, she blinked. “I interviewed a few candidates today, and found the perfect match-”

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, “Leave it to you to turn something like this into a business exchange–that’s not how sponsors work. You can’t just pick one for me-”

“I can, actually. And I did. His name is-”

“I don’t give a shit what his name is.” Like before, she simply waited for you to retract your statement, which you didn’t. However, you were smart enough to know that arguing with her wasn’t going to get you anywhere. If she wanted you to have a sponsor, you were going to have one, whether you liked it or not. “What if I already have a sponsor? Still gonna force yours on me?”

“Do you have a sponsor?”

No–fuck no. You didn’t anticipate being in the program long enough to need one. But still, you lied, “Yes. I do.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Then where are they?”

You motioned around the empty lobby. “They already left. EDA has been over for an hour, remember?”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Keeping this part of my life separate from you is my goal. You tend to ruin most things, and ruining this will only keep me here longer.”

She seemed to believe the snarky tone in your voice. “Fine. You have your own, but I’ll need to meet them. Make sure they’re qualified, and all that. So, what is their name?”

* * * * * 

“Hey, Sukuna,” Kenjaku called out to him from the entrance to the kitchen. He dropped the soapy dish back into the water and reached over to pause the music, waiting for Kenjaku to finish speaking. “There’s someone up front asking for you. Says it’s important. You can just go ahead and take your break.”

“Did they give a name?”

“Nope. Hurry up, though. Your break starts now.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and tore off his gloves, folding them over the edge of the basin to dry before grabbing his coat from the employee locker and venturing to the front of the restaurant. 

There was only one person who would show up at this place, asking for Sukuna, or so he thought. However, it was not Uraume that was waiting on him. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sukuna grunted, pushing past your guilty-looking self while rummaging through his pocket for his pack of smokes. 

“I know this seems really weird-” 

“Does it, really?” he sarcastically replied.

You followed close behind him, around to the back of the restaurant, and watched him light his cigarette as you went on to add, “But I swear, I have a good reason. Well… I guess it’s not a good reason–you definitely won’t think it’s good, but you’re kind of a pessimistic person, so that’s to be expected, which is fine-”

“Look, I’m on break because of you, and I’m not even halfway done with my shift.” Somehow, that guilty look on your face only worsened. “So, just spit it out already. Not trying to spend a whole fifteen with you.”

And with that near insult spat in your direction, you winced and bit out, “I need you to do me a favor.”

Sukuna almost choked on a mouthful of smoke. “A favor?” You gave a hesitant nod. “From me?” You nodded again, and after a few moments of contemplative silence, Sukuna chuckled, “You’re funny.”

“I’m not joking-”

“I’m sure you aren’t, but it’s funny you thought you could ever ask a favor of me.”

“Sukuna, please-”

“We don’t even know each other, and you want me to do something for you?”

“Yes-”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You don’t even know what I want yet,” you argued, as if that would help your case.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like you. I told you to leave me alone.” He brought the cigarette to his mouth for a deep, much-needed drag. “You’d think someone who was married to a psychiatrist would understand the concept of boundaries.”

He watched your jaw move, flexing tightly as you ground your teeth together. “And you’d think someone who attends a group therapy program would know how to listen and keep their mouth shut.”

As much as he hated himself for it, he enjoyed the grit in your voice and the way that retort hissed passed your lips. But more than either of those, Sukuna really enjoyed the angered scowl on your face, which was the only reason he decided to entertain you, but only for a few more minutes.

“Alright, princess. Let’s hear it, then.” 

Without wasting any time–though, in hindsight, Sukuna almost wishes you had given him time to prepare him for your response– you said, “I need you to be my sponsor.”

His brain worked overtime to catch up with the present, because surely, he missed a few things. 

How could you jump straight into that? Were you really that stupid? To ask something so personal of a total stranger? Just how close did you think you were to him? Because Sukuna can, and should, assure you that you were definitely not close enough to be asking that of him.

“As I said, I know it’s weird-”

“No. Showing up where I work is weird,” he interrupted you, “but asking me to be your sponsor is just fucking dumb. Aside from the fact that we don’t know each other, we’re in different programs.”

You shoved your hand into your purse, rooting around for something. “Yes, but-”

“But nothing-”

“Can you please just give me a second-”

“No. That was a stupid favor to ask-”

“Sukuna,” you huffed, shoulders falling slack. 

“What?” he huffed, too, equally as exasperated with you as you were with him. However, the difference was that he had every right. What the fuck were you doing here?

“Just let me explain.”

He shook his head and leaned back against the brick wall of the restaurant. “Not interested. The answer is no-”

“Please-”

“Fuck off-”

“My mother-” As you went on to explain, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. “She’s forcing a sponsor on me-”

“So, then you already have one. What the hell do you need me-” 

His interruption was cut off with a cold palm pressed over his mouth. 

Immediately, his eyes snapped open, honing in on you and the small panting breaths that were forming little clouds in the cold air. When he roughly batted your hand away, your other palm came up to cover his mouth, too. 

Thus began the handsy fight of you trying to keep him quiet and him trying to free his mouth.

In the few seconds when his mouth was free, he managed to spit, “What the fuck?”

“Please-”

“Are you fucking five-”

“Just listen to me–please-”

During the fight, he dropped his cigarette–his last cigarette–which angered him far more than the fight itself. 

He reminded himself of the strength difference, and that you were a lady, and that getting physical with you would only land him in jail, but fuck, you started it. Had you been a man, your head would have been knocked into the pavement the second you touched him. But since you weren’t, the most he could manage was to restrain you.

He latched onto your wrist and flipped the position, pushing your back into the wall, pinning your hand to the brick above your head. Your free hand was just as persistent, but it only ended up pinned to the wall, too, held tightly in one of Sukuna’s hands, while he used his other to cover your mouth.

Your chest heaved, eyes widening as you took into account the change of stance–the literal corner he had backed you into. He could see the fight leave you then, and even felt it in your weakening pushes against him.

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch. Who just covers a stranger’s mouth like that, and thinks it’s okay? Were you taught any fucking manners? Or can you just not stand being told no?”

Sukuna could only hope that the shitty restaurant security cameras picked up how you’d initiated this, or he’d end up in jail by the end of the night, if you decided to press charges for assault. But, fuck, if you did, he’d get your ass for harassment, first-

The feeling of something wet and slimy slid over his palm–you’d fucking licked him.

“Nasty bitch,” he snarled, pulling his hand away to wipe it off on his pant leg.

In one breath, you rushed out, “You covered my mouth like that the first day we met. And just because we’re in different programs doesn’t mean you can’t be my sponsor-”

He clenched the hand you licked into a fist and groaned, “You forgetting the part where I don’t fucking like you?”

“No. I got that–I understand-”

“So, what the hell are you doing? I’m not gonna change my mind-”

“You don’t really have to be my sponsor. I just need you to pretend until my mother gets off my back about it. Otherwise, she’s going to put me with a person who takes it too seriously, and they’re gonna be on my ass constantly-”

“Maybe that’s what you need. Then, it’ll keep you away from me-”

“I’ll pay you!”

With a scoff, Sukuna released your wrists and backed away from you. “I don’t need your money-”

“Then whatever else you want, within reason, of course.” You were almost reaching out for him. “I’m desperate.”

“Yeah. I can fucking tell. Why can’t you pick someone else from your little group? And don’t you have friends?” 

“I do, but… they’d smother me. And I don’t trust anyone from my therapy group. They’d be on my ass, too. I just–please, Sukuna. I know it’s a lot, and I know you don’t like me, but I swear to god, if you do this, I’ll never bother you ever again.”

Then a sick thought crossed his mind–just how desperate were you? 

Well, you both were about to find out. 

“You want me to be your sponsor so badly, then blow me.”

The hopeful look in your eyes died out as you brokenly whispered, “W-What?”

Biting back a grin, he leaned in closer. “You heard me. Suck my dick, or find a different sponsor.” When you didn’t respond, Sukuna deemed that a win. “Ah, not as desperate as you thought, are you?” With you still caught off guard by his request, he took another step back. “Well, let me know if you change your mind. Until then, don’t fucking talk to me.”

He had weighed his options at the moment, deciding that either outcome would be nice. He’d get a blowjob, or he’d be free from you. 

No matter which way he looked at it, he was winning.

* * * 

The next few weeks without having to hear from you, or even see you, were nice. Yuji talked about you a few times when mentioning a school project that he needed help with, but other than those moments, you hadn’t been on Sukuna’s mind. If not for his brother and the couple of times he caught the community center volunteer changing the EDA sign to the AA sign, Sukuna would have forgotten about you entirely. 

He really thought that was it, that you’d never reach out again, and he’d finally be rid of you and your irritating comments. But Sukuna should’ve known better.

“Hey. You got someone here to see you. Same person as before,” Kenjaku shouted over Sukuna’s music as he bumped him out of the way to take his place. “Go on. Make it quick. She’s waiting at table nine. And she ordered a cup of coffee, so take that to her.”

“M’not a server,” Sukuna grumbled as he ripped off his gloves. 

“But you’re mine to boss around until midnight, so hop to.”

Sukuna spotted you the moment he stepped out of the kitchen, sitting in the booth across the room, picking at your thumbs with a blank expression. It was only when he stood at your table that you even broke out of your one-sided staring contest with the air.

“Sukuna-”

“Here,” he snapped, harshly placing down the coffee in front of you, paying no mind to the slight spillage. 

You glanced down at it with a frown. “Oh, I wanted it with cream-” Your voice trailed when you noticed his glare. With shaky hands, you accepted it. “Just kidding. I love black coffee. It’s the best.”

Grunting, he slid into the booth across from you, watching your nose crinkle in disgust when you forced yourself to sip from the mug. You grabbed a lot of sugar packets, emptying them into the drink, before asking, “So, how are you?”

“Honestly, I’m confused.” You raised your brows at his answer. “If this is about me sponsoring you-”

“Nh! People can hear you.”

He rolled his eyes and quieted his voice. “What are you doing here?”

You hesitated with your answer, but eventually said, “I’ll do it. The uh… well, you know.”

Mockingly, Sukuna tilted his head. “I don’t think I do.”

“Sukuna.”

“What? How am I supposed to know what you’re gonna do? I’m not a mind reader.”

“You know, the thing we talked about a couple of weeks ago.”

He shrugged, finding himself feeling a bit playful. Taunting you was too easy, and for some reason, it came to him naturally, as if his sole purpose was to grind your gears. “Can’t seem to remember.”

You knew he was fucking with you at that point. “No? Did you drown all of your brain cells in alcohol?"

He snorted before muttering, “Careful. Remember, you want something from me. You should play nice while I’m feeling generous.”

“Generous? You’re gonna make me suck you off.”

“First, I’m not making you do anything. Second, you said I could have anything I wanted out of this deal-”

“Yes. Within reason.”

“And a blowjob isn’t within reason?”

“No! It’s entirely unreasonable!” Your outburst gained the attention of a few other customers, drawing you into yourself with an embarrassed huff. “But if you’re seriously going to sink that low-”

“I am.”

“And if I have no other option, then I’ll do it,” you ended with a deflated sigh. “But I’m hoping we can come up with something else-

“Nope. A blowjob will do.” He moved to slide out of the booth while adding, “My shift ends at midnight, so you can wait for me-”

“What?” You jolted, panicked that he was leaving already. “But we’re not doing this today.”

“Why not?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “Don’t you want to talk about this first?”

“What’s there to talk about? I don’t have to walk you through a blowjob, do I?”

“Not that part, you dick. The sponsor part.”

He brushed you off. “I’ve been doing this a while now. I think I can play the part of a sponsor. Besides, you said I was only pretending.”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing. Either you trust me to do this, or you don’t.” He slid out of the booth. “Shift ends at midnight.”

* * * 

Nine Years Ago

“Sukuna?” his therapist called out to him, reaching forward toward the teen in a motion that was too quick and too slow at the same time. “Hey…” 

Sukuna’s head was swimming, spinning, and his thoughts weren’t the least bit coherent–what the fuck was his therapist saying? He squeezed his eyes shut to regain some of his blurred vision–black dots were starting to speckle the outer corners again.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” He felt Nanami’s hand grab his face before his eyes processed the man who was right in front of him.

“I hear you,” he slurred, pushing at the man to create some distance, though he didn’t have anywhere backward to go since he was confined to the therapy chair, and there was no way he was getting up any time soon.

Now that he was thinking about it, how did he get to Nanami’s office in the first place? The fact that he couldn’t remember was not a good sign.

“M’fine-”

“No, you’re not. You’re drunk.”

“No-”

“Don’t lie. I can smell it.” Nanami released his hold on Sukuna's face and stood straight in front of him. “How much did you drink?”

“Like… all together? Or today? Wait, actually… I don’t know.” Even while intoxicated, the disappointed look on Nanami’s face was blatantly obvious to Sukuna. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your bullshit-”

“Sukuna,” he said firmly, forcing the teen to fall silent. “When was the last time you were sober?” 

“Uhh… lemme think…” he trailed off, snickering to himself–he didn’t fucking know. “The last time I was sober… I was balls deep in your mother.” 

The jab didn’t rattle Nanami as much as Sukuna hoped it would. Rather than laying into him for it, Nanami raked a hand through his hair and took a seat across from his patient.

“How’d you get here?”

Sukuna snorted, “Fuck if I know.”

“You didn’t… drive, did you?”

“Come on, now. You know I didn’t drive,” he chuckled, tilting his head back to rest against the back of the chair. “Don’t even have a license.”

The room continued to spin around Sukuna, even if he closed his eyes. It was starting to make him nauseous, but he swallowed back the bile that was gathering in the back of his throat.

“Yet somehow you were able to get your hands on some alcohol. How is that?”

He gave an uncoordinated wave of his hand. “I have my ways.”

“And are those ways going to end up with the police knocking on my door, telling me that you’ve robbed a liquor store?”

“Would you be scared if I said yes?”

“No. But I would be disappointed.”

The disappointment was a given at this point… 

“Don’t worry. The only thing I robbed was my dad’s liquor cabinet. Since he’s never coming back to drink it, I didn’t want it to go to waste.” A wry smile tugged at the corners of Sukuna’s mouth. “He collected it. It’s whiskey, I think. Couldn’t really be sure. It’s not from here, it’s western, or something… Buffalo Trace. Kentucky Owl. Pappy Van something…”

“Pappy Van Winkle,” Nanami corrected him. 

“That’s it.” Sukuna snapped his fingers. “Tastes like shit, by the way.”

“So, why’d you drink it, then?”

“I like the feeling.” The teen shrugged. “The Hibiki tasted like shit, too.”

“Maybe you’re not a whiskey person.”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers, right? It’s all he had in the cabinet.” When a silence fell over the room, it was almost too much for Sukuna to take. He tilted his head to the side, peering across the way to his therapist. “I thought you’d be more angry.”

“What good will come from my anger? It’s only going to fuel your self-destructive tendencies, and you have more than enough to fuel that on your own, as it is. I want no part in tearing you down.”

“Mm…” He tilted his head back again, closing his eyes and letting the blackness spin him around. “Thought I’d get you with the comment about your mother, too.”

“My mother is dead, so unless you were… defiling her urn…”

A bubble of laughter slipped out before Sukuna could help it. It wasn’t that he saw the situation as funny–well, not genuinely funny. It was amusing in a dark sort of way. 

“You should have mentioned that when we first started seeing each other. Then we would have had something to bond over. How’d she die?”

Sukuna didn’t expect Nanami to be so forthcoming with the answer.

“Pancreatic cancer. It was aggressive but… slow. We all had to watch it happen.” And with that admission, any bit of humor fled Sukuna. His smile fell away. “Until there was nothing we could do to stop it. Kind of like you with your mother, right?”

That’s definitely not how Sukuna intended the conversation to go.

Another bout of sickness twisted in his gut.

“Fuck off-”

“And with your father, too-”

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t come here to talk about them-”

“I think you did. You came here for a reason, and I think it’s to talk about all the things you don’t have the courage to talk about when you’re sober.”

“Stop pretending that you know me. It’s pathetic to see you struggle to use that degree of yours by trying to relate to someone you don’t understand. You don’t know more than what I’ve told you, and what I’ve told you is jack shit.” Sukuna watched as Nanami rubbed his hand over his mouth, contemplating his next move before pushing up from the chair. “Where are you going?”

Nanami didn’t answer him. He pulled open the filing cabinet behind his desk and, with a careless hand, started pulling files from the top drawer. When he cleaned out the first, he moved to the second, and then to the third. By the time he was finished, there was a stack of files almost a foot tall. 

“Here’s what I’ve gathered on you so far, and this is without the added documentation I’ve collected from other sources. It spans from June of 2012, all the way until now, so it’s roughly three years of information.” He turned back to the cabinet and pulled out the remaining two drawers, adding those files to the stack. “And here’s what I know about you with the added documentation. Records of school attendance, transcript, test scores, doctor appointments, CPS home evaluations, newspaper clippings, family medical history-”

“So fucking what?”

“So,” Nanami began, taking in a deep, calming breath, “I know you, Sukuna. I know seeing this-” He gestured to the tall stack of files. “-pisses you off. I know your next move is to shut down again because you think it’s going to keep me from figuring out more about you, but I know that you know it’s useless to even try when I have you mapped out this far.”

Nanami sighed and began filtering through the top few files until he came across the one he was looking for. He seemed to hesitate yet again before he rounded his desk, tossing the file down onto the coffee table in front of Sukuna.

“What’s that?”

“Something I shouldn’t be showing you, or I risk losing my license, but I’m hoping it might be helpful,” Nanami explained as he took his place in the chair across from Sukuna again. 

Shakily, the teen sat up and made a sluggish grab for the file. The first name he was faced with when he opened it made the twisting feeling in his stomach worse. 

“Your mother… what happened to her was not your fault. It wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision to do what she did; it had been building for years. If she would have had the proper treatment from the start, if she would have had a doctor who noticed the changes, if she-”

“If I hadn’t given her the knife,” Sukuna mumbled, swallowing back the bile and the ball of emotions that was forming in the back of his throat. “If I hadn’t just stood there and watched her do it-”

“You were eleven, Sukuna. You were just a kid–you still are. How could you have known?”

His voice tipped off into muffled nonsense, falling flat on Sukuna’s ears, all while Sukuna’s eyes tiredly slipped over the lines of Nanami’s useless diagnosis of his mother.

“MDD, major depressive disorder, that’s… genetic. Isn’t it?”

After a few seconds of silence, Nanami answered, “It can be.”

“Is that what you have written down for me, too?” 

Sukuna closed the file and tossed it down on the table, giving Nanami what remained of his uncoordinated attention. 

Slowly, the therapist nodded, as if he didn’t want to give Sukuna the answer. “In your case, it’s comorbid–it coincides with another diagnosis.”

Sukuna chuckled, “What’s the other? Alcoholism? That runs in the family, I’m sure you know.”

“PTSD,” Nanami answered flatly, not finding Sukuna’s dark humor to be all that humorous. “Not just from what you witnessed with your mother, but… the car crash with your father, too. You even said it yourself, you wouldn’t drive. Even while intoxicated, you wouldn’t get behind the wheel of a car. That’s good in theory, but it only proves my diagnosis. And you use alcohol to cope with the trauma-”

“Yeah, no shit. I think that’s pretty obvious.”

Nanami smiled softly at the retort. “Alright. Come on, let’s get you home-”

“No, I can’t–I–fuck…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Yuji’s home, and if… if Gramps sees me like this, he’ll kick my ass. It scares Yuji when he yells–can’t go home. Just lemme see your phone.”

“What for?”

“I’ll call someone,” he slurred, clutching his head when he moved forward too fast. “A friend or something.”

Nanami didn’t make a move. “Which friend?”

“What’s it matter to you? S’not like you know any of ‘em anyway-”

“If it’s Uraume, the answer is no-”

“What the fuck–why?”

“They’re fifteen. Like you. And it’s almost midnight. I’m not having a teen walk to my office to escort you home at this hour. That’s not safe for either of you.” The firm tone he took with the teen left no room for discussion on the matter. “You can stay with me in my office, or I can call the police to have them take you home when you feel sober enough to face your grandfather.”

“Those are both shit options.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’re left with when you make shit decisions.” The therapist stood, moving back behind his desk to slump into his chair. “I planned on staying overnight to work on some stuff anyway, so let me know if I should call the station and have them take you home, okay?”

* * * * *

You told yourself you weren’t really going to do it, that you had more self-respect than you were giving yourself credit for. But as you told Sukuna a few hours ago, you were desperate.

After his proposition a few weeks ago, you discarded your idea of asking him for help, and decided to settle with the sponsor your mother had hired for you. And that entire situation had turned out to be a terrible mistake. 

As you had assumed, the man was on your ass constantly, even inviting himself into your home a few times to spend the night and make sure you were really staying on track. Three weeks later, you fired him and almost kick-started your criminal record with an assault charge tacked on at the very top, which wouldn’t have fared well with your job, you’re sure.

Your mother was pissed and promised a new hire swiftly. You, however, weren’t going to let that happen. Hence, your decision to wait at the back of the restaurant where Sukuna worked.

He might’ve hated you, he might’ve been a complete asshole, but that’s what you needed. Someone who didn’t give a shit if you lived or died. Because if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t bother you, and you could finish up this stupid program quicker–if your mother allowed it, that is.

The creaky hinges of the door echoed through the empty parking lot, followed by the sound of one-sided chatter. You were hidden behind the dumpster, not keen on anyone else finding out that you were really about to whore yourself out to one of your students’ brothers.

Briefly, you wondered if you’d have to notify the school of this relationship.

“...M’telling you, if Mahito tries that shit again, he’s gone.”

“He should’ve been gone months ago,” a familiar voice responded. “You’re just too scared to fire your employees because it means you’ll have to take on an extra shift.”

“I don’t wanna hear anything from the guy who only works one day a week. You know, if you’d quit that janitor job, I’d have someone to work Mahito’s schedule-”

“No fucking way,” Sukuna chuckled. “Cleaning up classrooms is way better than this place. And that says something, doesn’t it?”

“It’s Mahito’s fault,” the other argued.

“No, it’s your shit management.”

“Fuck off. I’m the best boss you’ve ever had. Don’t lie.”

“Whatever. Give me my check.”

“Ugh, it’s like you’re only here for one thing.”

From what you could hear, the two exchanged goodbyes before parting ways. Across the parking lot, you heard a car start up, which prompted you to peek around the dumpster and make sure Sukuna wasn’t leaving without seeing you first-

And your face bumped right into a thick wall of muscle before you had a chance to process anything. While you had been startled by it and reeled back as quickly as possible, Sukuna stood still, glaring down at you with an irritated look.

“You’re starting to seem like a real stalker. You know that, right?”

You added more distance between you. “You fucking told me to wait. I thought you were getting in your car-”

“I don’t have a car.”

“You–I–whatever, fuck. You know what I’m here for. Let’s just…” You waved your hand around as if to explain the plan.

He cocked a brow, a smirk taking over the usual scowl. “You’re seriously gonna do it?”

“I wouldn’t have waited back here if I wasn’t.” Sukuna blinked, seemingly surprised. “What?”

He chuckled, “Just didn’t think you’d accept, it’s kinda shocking. I know you’re desperate, but-”

“Do you want your dick sucked, or not?” His chuckle turned into an actual laugh, and while it was a nice sound, you didn’t appreciate it while offering up your mouth. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he mumbled, biting back laughter as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and peeled his jacket off his arms to toss on the ground between both of you. He gestured toward it before pulling a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips. “Go on, sensei. Blow me behind the dumpster.”

Did he just give you his coat to kneel on?

No, no. There’s something more important to address.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? I’ve called you that before.” He exhaled a mouthful of smoke and pocketed his lighter. “Or is it different right now because when you go back to work on Monday, you’ll have to listen to my little brother call you the same thing, and remember how you slutted yourself for me? Behind the dumpster, too-”

“Christ, if the dumpster is bothering you, we can do this in my car-”

“No. I like it here.” After a few seconds of silence, he gestured to the coat again. “It’s not gonna suck itself, sensei.”

Just like that, a wire snapped, a fuse exploded–he pissed you off.

With a forceful shove, his back hit the dumpster, and rather than getting just as angry as you, his eyes widened in delight. A grin curled onto his mouth as you pressed yourself against him, your hands moving to his belt. Your precise fingers unbuckled it, moving next to the buttons and the zipper, and when you were able to, you shoved your hand down the front of his pants to take him in a tight fist. A hiss slithered past his lips, bringing with it a few tendrils of smoke.

You pumped him a few times, finding that he got hard far quicker than you had anticipated. The cocky grin on his mouth fell away, too, followed by a slight, pleasured furrow forming between his brows. Being so close, the smoke from the cigarette was tickling your nose. Without thinking, you plucked it from between his lips and snubbed it on the side of the dumpster. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem bothered by that.

“Fuck-” The sound of his poorly suppressed groan lit a fire in your lower stomach. “This isn’t–you’re not-” 

He brought his hand up to your shoulder, pressing on it, urging you to kneel, but you shoved it away and used your own to pin his shoulder to the dumpster. You knew if he truly wanted to, he could push you away from him, yet he didn’t. And for some reason, you really liked that.

As you pumped him in a tight grip, his precum coated your palm, which you slicked down his cock in a way that had his eyes fluttering shut. With another groan, he leaned his head back to brokenly mumble, “This isn’t–fuck. Isn’t a blowjob-”

“You’re right. It’s not,” you purred, leaning in closer. “Only good boys get their dick sucked. You’re lucky I’m even touching you right now after your bad behavior.”

Sensing the sarcasm in your voice, a faint grin flickered on his mouth, and he raised his head again. “You’re a fucking freak for getting off on the sensei thing.”

“The only one getting off on that right now is you.” To prove your point, you slowed your movement and slid your fist to his tip, circling around it to gather more precum that beaded there. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you already spilled your load. But you haven’t even finished yet, have you?”

Like before, his arrogance diminished, but he didn’t answer.

You hummed condescendingly, “And you’re about to cum in your boxers like a fucking virgin.” Your taunting earned you a lovely sound from him and a tight hand fisting the front of your shirt. Shakily, his hand slipped up to your chest, groping you over your clothes, losing himself in it like he actually might be– “You are a virgin, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” His jaw clenched before he added, “Fuck off. I’m–shit, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum?”

“Yes-”

“So quickly?”

He groaned, frustrated. “Fuck–yes, yes-”

“And you’re going to meet my mother tomorrow to talk about being my sponsor?”

 “Mhm.” Blindly, he agreed, getting himself right on the edge of orgasm before he noticed what he accepted. “Wait, what-”

While his realization came too late, he came early, coating your hand in stripes of his warm, sticky release. The grip he had on your chest turned brutal, probably hard enough to leave a few bruises, but the way he sounded, the way he kept thrusting into your hand made up for that entirely. You knew he was finished when he finally grabbed your wrist to stop you from stroking him.

He pulled your hand from his pants with a scoff and pushed at you when you tried to use his shirt as a cum rag for your sticky fingers. “The deal was a blowjob. If I wanted to be jerked off, I would have done it myself.”

“Sure, but you definitely wouldn’t have cum that fast.” The look he gave you made you laugh. “Tomorrow, my mother and I are meeting at-”

“I don’t give a fuck. M’not going-”

You continued speaking over him. “Noon, at that cafe on the corner. It used to be a diner. You know the place?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, bending over to grab his coat from the ground.

“If you give me your address-” 

“Fat chance,” he grumbled.

“I can pick you up-”

“You can go fuck yourself. I’d rather walk.” 

You only sighed in response to that, watching after his retreating back as he started toward the street. 

master list || next chapter

author's note: thank you for reading <3!

tag list is open :)

@chloe022r @yarimarjane @rinofcike @sueboo503 @juiceboxluvr

@brazzigy @sakuracream @ane5e @niragiscumslut @cherry-peach-flavored

@crystalferret202 @marcelinebtw @sukubusss @sincerely-kaiii @kusluv

@s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e @goldiesoaked @seellove @sukusdoll @casssiesthings

@supersoftfox @lucy-lulu @bam-boozledx @murakamisblog @choerryp1e

@cherrycokeline @sayakosama @jkslvsnella @chiaramartyna @honeychained

@babucakes @sempiternalmyth @rxtrovillans @seraph1nxx @jlovesyuuji

@onlykuna @grignardsreagent @ayookeikooo @levisthirdleg

perm tags: @man1cslut @shrewdreader

[w0rm3y]

Happy new year to the best writer I've ever met!

I hope you know how much you are loved 💕

Aw, omg! Thank you so much!! Happy New Year to you, too! <33!!

[w0rm3y]

Hey I wanted to ask how you did the divider thing with the photos of uraume in your pinned post? I wanted to know if there was any specific way to do it 😭😭😭

Hii! For all of my banners/dividers, I use Canva. Then, to get the picture to look split up, I'll use frames. And when I save it, I make sure it saves with a transparent background, but I think that feature is part of their premium subscription.

I'm terrible at explaining things, so I hope that made sense. And if it didn't, let me know. I can take some screenshots or something to explain it better :)

[w0rm3y]

I just wanted to say that Blurry was amazing. Im new to tumblr, and going through it the first series I saw abt you was Blurry. Ngl, I avoided that for days just cuz it was long n I didn't have patience. Then one day being bored asf I just went through and read, then clicked next chp next chap till it ended. Like I literally finished it in a day and was addicted so bad. And I still am. It was so good!. I still have yet to read other Sukuna series of yours, and I will soon. You captured Sukuna so like him, like in other fics, there are ones that too perfectly capture him in behavior, but there are also others like ones that make him too soft and ooc its completely off character, or so mean and heartless which i know he is in reality but its not much enjoyable to actually read when hes depicted as ur husband or bf, then whats the point of him being ur husband or bf??, or another one I hate is when he speaks in ancient wordings like he is incapable of speaking normally. Anyways I think im spamming, sorry abt that. Just wanted to say love u n ur fics, keep up the amazing work, bye-bye! ❤❤😁

Omg, hii!! Sorry, I'm a little late responding to this! I've been binging MHA to get caught up, and kinda neglecting Tumblr.

I totally get what you mean by him being too soft sometimes. There were a few times when I was writing Blurry where I had to go back and rewrite his dialogue to make him more of an asshole. But sometimes, I think it's difficult to balance Sukuna's character when you're writing him as a husband/bf because, while he is the villain in the show, you have to make him at least a little soft in the fic; otherwise, he's the villain in the relationship, too. But then again, I love writing about toxic men, so I try to keep the softness to a minimum. I'd rather them both be villains, if that makes sense.

Thank you so much for reading Blurry! I'm so glad you liked it! <3!

[w0rm3y]

── .✦ Fester ˖᯽ ݁˖ R. S

── .✦ pairing || Trueform! Sukuna x F! Reader, Yorozu x F! Reader

── .✦ summary || A few years after finding Sukuna's shrine again, you train under him to hone your skill, much like you did in your youth. Only this time, both of your feelings toward each other have changed, and navigating that issue is proving difficult. While he has trouble expressing his true thoughts, you misinterpret what he's trying to convey, leaving you both pinned against each other...

── .✦ overall content & warnings || wc. 8k. MDNI. DDDNE. historical inaccuracies. talk of cannibalism. explicit sexual content. exhibitionism. voyeurism. oral (f! & m! receiving). first time bjs. virginity loss. Sukuna's hand mouths. double penetration. p in v. hair pulling. blood kink. biting kink. sexual tension. moral ambiguity. dubious consent. getting hot and heavy in a hot spring. outdoor sex. usual Sukuna pet names for Reader (brat/girl/woman). Sukuna tries to deny his feelings and attraction for Reader. somehow he's a major dick, but also soft at the same time.

last chapter ᯽ next chapter

An icy chill overtook your body during the night, waking you up for the nth time with goosebumps and a trembling jaw. Beside you, curled up tight around your midsection, was your friend, shivering just as you were. Though it seemed the freezing temperature hadn’t woken Yorozu up from her sleep just yet. Not even the two of you curled together was enough to keep yourselves warm, and if you didn’t figure something out soon, you’d no doubt succumb to frostbite.

It was the first frost of the season, so you couldn’t be too upset that you weren’t prepared with the proper bedding. However, you could be upset that what little bedding you had was being taken up almost entirely by the woman at your side. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric and tugged on it, making Yorozu stir in her sleep until she grumbled, “Stop.”

“I’m freezing,” you whispered, giving it another pull, but alas, no extra slack was given to you. 

“M’freezing, too.” She sniffled, nose stuffed up with the cold, before she let out a puff of air. “This is miserable. Imagine if we slept separately. We’d be dead already.” When her legs tangled with yours, her cold feet brushed up your calf, making you hiss and flinch away. 

“We’re more apt to die from a sickness before we freeze to death, but I don’t intend on dying either of those ways.” You pushed the thin blanket off your body and grabbed Yorozu’s hand. “Come on.”

Minutes later, you both stood in front of Sukuna’s bedroom door, still shivering and nearly numb.

“It’s like standing in front of a bear cave,” she murmured, glancing down at you. “You really don’t think he’ll kill us for this?”

You gave a shrug. “Maybe, but at least he’d be quick about it. It beats freezing to death, or succumbing to malady, right?”

“I suppose.”

With as much confidence as you could muster, you slid open his door quietly and stepped inside, your friend right behind you. You noticed that near the bed, a small fire was going in a lantern, and that the blankets adorning Sukuna’s futon were thick, padded with fur, and entirely unused. He lay without a cover, sprawled out on his stomach with his arms clutching the pillow beneath his head, and facing away from the middle of the bed.

You both shared a look, giving a nod of assurance before venturing inside. Yorozu took the spot furthest from Sukuna, giving you the middle, but with how big his sleeping space was, there was plenty of room between you and your mentor that you wouldn’t be touching that much. You could only hope it was enough that you wouldn’t disturb-

“If I feel either of you press your cold feet against me,” Sukuna began gruffly, making you and Yorozu pause, “I’m killing you both. Brutally and slowly. I’ll skin you alive and make a pelt with your hide. Understand?”

Audibly, you and your friend gulped before muttering in unison, “Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Don’t make me regret my leniency.”

Sleep came a lot easier after that, now that you weren’t trembling with cold and attached to someone who kept shaking you awake with her own chills. You lay facing Sukuna’s back, and behind you, Yorozu coiled her arm around your waist, burying her face into the back of your neck to keep warm, and eliciting a soft purring sound of sorts that lulled you right to sleep.

Yet, sometime through the night, you ended up lying right beside him, tucked in underneath his chin with three of his arms caging you in, and the other extended for Yorozu to rest her head on. With a tentative hand, you reached out and traced your finger down the bridge of her nose until it crinkled ever so slightly.

“Ro-zuu,” you softly called out, a mere whisper, gently tapping on her squished cheek. She swatted at your hand, slapping it away with a harsh movement, but it made you laugh. “Come on. Time to get up.”

With another few taps on her face, she let out a huffing whine. “You’re so annoying. Like a buzzing insect that won’t leave you alone.” 

“But you like insects. That’s your whole thing.”

Her usual wide eyes finally cracked open, heavy-lidded and sleepy. However, they did squint around the edges when she smiled at you. “There’s a difference. I enjoy sturdy insects–beetles and such. Your poking my face is reminiscent of a gnat, which is as weak as it is annoying. Do you know what I do with annoying little gnats like you?” 

“Mm, kiss them and tell them they’re pretty?” you suggested, reaching out to twist a lock of her messy hair around your finger. 

“Close.” She grabbed your wrist, bringing it to her mouth to kiss her way up your arm until she maneuvered herself overtop of you in a quick motion. As your hands fell to her hips, hers fell to your neck, where she softly squeezed and leaned down. “I actually kill them. Now, if you beg me, maybe I’ll spare you.”

“Why bother to beg when all I really need to do is remind you of whose tongue you enjoy sitting on?”

“Watch your mouth, woman,” Sukuna groused, reminding both of you that he was still there. “Were you raised to speak like a little whore?”

A tiny grin flickered on your face. “I wasn’t really raised at all, my lord.”

“Therein lies the problem, I suppose. Regardless, take your coupling somewhere that won’t disturb my sleep–and that means beyond your bedroom. I can hear you two romping around in the middle of the night all the way over here.”

“And you’ve never thought to join?” you teasingly questioned, understanding that doing so was a gamble for whether he’d flay you alive or not. Should he, you deemed that to be worth it for a little bit of taunting. “Why is that?”

“Lack of interest.”

“The mouths on your hands please you enough?”

“That they do,” he grumbled, pushing himself to sit up, resting his elbows on his bent knees to rake a hand through his hair. He didn’t even spare you a glance before muttering some curses under his breath and standing up. “Clean up after yourselves. If I have to lie in a wet bed later, I’ll be very displeased.”

As soon as he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him, you spared a glance at the woman on top of you, who was looking just as confused as you were feeling. 

“Didn’t he just tell us to leave?” she asked.

“He did.”

“And he’s the one leaving instead?”

“Seems so.”

She hummed over it. “Odd.”

“Very odd.”

* * * 

You sniffled as you raised your hand to your nose, wiping away the condensation that was accumulating there while you followed your mentor through the snow-covered forest. You’d both been traveling since early that morning, and the setting sun was telling you just how long you’d been trekking through a winter wasteland. With the promise of a few more days' travel ahead of you, you stowed away your complaints to use later since it seemed Sukuna wasn’t in the best of moods. 

It was only you and Sukuna this time, since Uraume’s technique wasn't needed when bringing back this hunt’s yield. The cold atmosphere would keep the bodies from decomposing on your way to the shrine. 

Part of you was thrilled to have alone time with your mentor, but the other part of you was dreading it. Long trips in the winter meant long spaces of time without conversation, and he was more irritable than usual. Sukuna would only entertain your questions for so long before he snapped at you to be quiet, so you used your voice sparingly.

You wiped at your nose again, sniffling some more, and wrapping your stag pelt tighter around your arms. The cloak was one Sukuna had given to you at the end of summer, along with a pair of fur-lined gloves and boots to match. You thought they were unnecessary at the time, but they were very useful in the moment. Surprisingly, Sukuna donned his usual attire: white hakama pants and a black haori, which left his bare chest exposed to the cold air. It made you wonder how he was managing without even the faintest shiver–he was still human, wasn’t he?

Well, you were curious enough to waste one of your questions on it.

“My lord?” After so long without using it, your voice was a bit raspy.

“Hm?”

“Are you not the slightest bit cold?”

“I’m fine.” 

His gruff cadence was focused enough that you knew better than to pry into his answer. Instead, you closed your mouth and followed along behind him, stepping right into the much larger footprints he was leaving in his path. 

“And you?” he asked after a few minutes, which threw you for a loop–you’d forgotten you’d even asked him something in the first place.

“And I, what?”

You heard him let out a huff, and you saw his breath crystallize in the air above him. “Are you cold?”

You sniffled again as you contemplated how to answer. Caving in and saying yes was admitting to weakness, but lying and saying no wouldn’t do you any favors. At least if he considered you weak, he might also consider stopping for the night to light a fire.

“A bit, my lord. The snow is quite deep, and we’ve been walking through it all day.”

“Mm.” 

He came to an abrupt halt, one that you weren’t prepared for. With how closely you were following behind him, you crashed right into his back–his warm back. The second you recoiled from him, you instantly wanted to reach forward again and give your fingers something warm to press against. 

“Careful, girl,” he scolded you while he pulled the haori off his shoulders and tossed it at you. The garment hit your face when it draped over your head. Under any other circumstance, the action would have pissed you off. However, after bearing the cold air for so long, it was nice to have something warm covering you up. Not to mention, it also smelled like him, encompassing you in his scent that you’d always found to be comforting.

Before you could pull the cloth from over your head, you felt your basket being lifted off your shoulders, with the haori lifted off right after. With his two upper hands, he wrapped the cloth around your shoulders, tying it tightly over your chest with the excess cloth.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“A little.” While it left you a tad warmer, you’d still prefer to sit in front of a fire to thaw your frozen limbs. “But when are we stopping for the night? I’m quite hungry.”

He snapped at you, “Don’t be greedy,” and pressed your basket back into your hands. “We’ll stop when I say so. Until then, be quiet.”

Your jaw clenched. “Yes, my lord.”

You continued on until you were struggling to see the footprints he was leaving in his path, despite being right behind him. The only indication that he was still there was the sound of crunching snow and snapping twigs-

Until that fell silent, which left you in a cold, pitch black world, with no sense of direction. 

“My lor-” A hand clamped down over your mouth, startling a gasp from you. 

“Listen,” Sukuna said from behind you. You wondered if you had walked right past him, or if he had managed to move so silently to get behind you. Either way, you did as he commanded, listening for whatever it was that he was hearing. 

In the distance, you heard a rustling sound and some grunting. Clearly, it was an animal, but with how dark the area around you was, you didn’t know what it was exactly. Slowly, Sukuna pulled his hand away from your mouth.

“What is it, my lord?” you whispered, so quiet that a normal human wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

“A bear.” The warmth that was pressed to your back disappeared. “I want you to go kill it.”

You choked at his order. “Me? I can barely kill a man–I cannot kill a bear-”

“You can,” he interjected, “And you will.”

Though it would do you no good, your eyes widened. “What?”

“You will kill it, or it will kill you. Simple as that.”

Your stomach dropped. “My lord, I-” You reached back, finding the space behind you to be empty. “Sukuna, please…” The grunts of the bear only ventured closer to you.

You could recall Sukuna’s teaching strategy–a ‘throw you to the wolves’ mentality, that he would use when guiding you during your youth. However, he’d never thrown you in front of a bear before.

“I can’t see,” you called out to him, hoping he’d retract his order of killing the beast that was only getting closer–you could hear its paws crushing the snow on the ground. 

“Then open your eyes, girl,” Sukuna suggested playfully, his voice coming from somewhere in the distance, from a direction that you couldn’t point to. “It’s right in front of you.”

With that, you sliced at the area in front of you, hearing it hit nothing but the air, followed by Sukuna snickering from wherever it was that he was spectating the hunt. You threw out another, this time hitting what you deemed to be a tree rather than a bear.

“You’re not even aiming-”

“I need to be able to see in order to aim, my lord,” you snapped. “How else will I know where my target is?”

“You don’t need to see your target. Feel for it instead.”

You scoffed, “With what? My hand? Isn’t that counterproductive–the bear will bite me!”

He chuckled again. “Not with your hand, with your cursed energy.”

“I don’t know how to do that!”

“You’ll figure it out. Now, if I remember correctly, there’s a hot spring nearby. I’ll go set up camp there.”

“What?!” you shrieked, falling back on your ass when a taloned paw swiped at you, just barely grazing your stomach. “Sukuna, you can’t-”

“You can handle it. Have faith in yourself.”

And just like that, you were left on your own to take down the bear that you couldn’t see.

* * *

The warmth of the hot spring was lovely, though it was doing very little to soothe the residual tendrils of adrenaline that were still coursing over your nerves. Your hands were still shaking, and you were still sniffling, but it had nothing to do with the cold weather anymore. 

From behind you, on the other side of the hot spring, you heard Sukuna approach, steps crunching through the snow as he went. You didn’t turn away from where you rested your arms on the rocky ledge of the pool. 

When he came to a halt at the edge, he huffed, “You’re crying.”

Yes, you were.

You didn’t respond to his observation with anything more than a sniffle.

He huffed again before you heard the subtle sound of splashing water, and only then did you turn around… to see him slipping into the hot spring… naked–or at least you assumed. His bottom half was submerged before you had the chance to check. Quickly, you turned back around so he wouldn’t notice that you were staring.

For a few quiet moments, all you could hear was the droplets of water hitting the surface of the pool, and the crackling of the fireplace he’d set up just a few feet away–and your sniffling, of course. The tension only continued to thicken as he bathed himself, all while you waited for him to say anything, yet he didn’t.

Eventually, the water stilled–the sound of it, the ripples. You thought that maybe he’d left you alone until you felt a newfound heat press against your back, and four arms caging you in against the edge of the hot spring.

“You did well,” he said, finally breaking the silence that started to accumulate. “I anticipated having to step in, but you managed it on your own-”

“Barely,” you snapped. “I just barely handled it on my own.”

He snickered, “So you’re angry that you succeeded?”

“No. I’m angry that you…”

“That I, what? Taught you something?”

You scoffed, “You did not teach me anything, Sukuna. You put me in front of a beast and told me to fight for my life-”

“And because of it, you can now aim your cursed energy without needing to see, which is an excellent thing to know how to do, should you ever find yourself in front of a bear in a dark forest ever again.”

“I could have died,” you bit out, jaw clenching when the tears started to build up again. 

“I wouldn’t have let you die, brat. I was keeping watch.” You could almost hear him roll his eyes. “What a waste of food, that would be, if I let a bear devour you. I’m saving you for the right time, letting you ripen up, so you’re less bitter and sour. I want you sweet.”

“Save yourself the trouble, my lord. As it seems, I’ll always be bitter and sour wherever you’re concerned. All I am to you is a scared, lazy little girl.”

“Mm, at least you’re self-aware.”

“Yes. I am.” A furrow formed between your brows. “It’s unfortunate that you cannot say the same about yourself.” 

You placed both of your hands on the edge of the hot spring, about to hoist yourself out, when he grabbed onto your hips to hold you in place. You gasped at the pressure he was gripping you with, but it was only enough to bruise you.

“I’ve more self-awareness than you may think, brat. The difference is that I choose to discard the morals humans collectively created to keep others from succeeding, and focus on what truly makes a person stronger.” His grip lightened, but he didn’t let go of your waist. “I could have assumed a gentler approach to teaching you, but you wouldn’t have come this far in such a short amount of time. I have enough self-awareness to know that morals hold you back. Morals make you weak. If you want to be strong, if you want to make it to the top, you need to stop following the weak-minded fools who put these morals in place.”

“And not following these weak-minded, foolish morals means you have to place me in front of a starving bear, leaving me defenseless, to kill or be killed?”

“You are not defenseless, girl.” His hands slid up your sides, brushing over your ribs to graze down your arms. When he grabbed your hands, he raised them in front of your face. “In your pockets, you carry around the sharpest blades this world has ever known. All you need to do is learn how to use them.” 

Your hands curled into fists as you gave a tug against his grip, but it was unrelenting. Carefully–delicately–he turned your hands over and pushed apart your fist with his thumb, forcing them to open up. And with a smooth touch, he grazed the pad of his finger over your splayed out palm.

“To live in this world means to kill or be killed, no matter if you’re placed in front of a starving bear, or not. This place is brutal, and it always has been, long before I was even born.” He leaned over you, chin resting on your bare shoulder, mouth angled toward your exposed throat. Sukuna spoke with such a kind tone–a purr of sorts–but his words carried something darker. “I only adapted to its cruelty, and I need you to do the same. The next time you’re alone in a dark forest, it might not be a starving bear that you’re standing in front of. It might be someone so starved, whose hunger for pretty things like you never stops.”

Somewhere in his explanation, you started to melt against him, falling back into his chest to become something so malleable.

“What if it’s not someone else, my lord?” you questioned, nearly panting when his breath brushed over your pulse. “What if you were starved? And what if I were alone with you?”

Like right now…

“Then you never stood a chance to begin with. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.” His voice hit the column of your throat before his lips did. Against your skin, he added, “And the sad part is, you wouldn’t try to stop me either.”

You bit back a moan, leaning your head away to bare more of your neck to him. “Should I?”

“If you value your life,” he murmured, mouthing over the thin, delicate skin. Instinctively, your back arched into him, breath turning into something so ragged. It felt nice to be touched by him, even if you were still angry about his unsavory teaching methods.

“And if I don’t value my life?”

He paused all of his movements, even his breathing, maybe even his own heartbeat, before he swallowed back a deep groan. 

“Then you’ll stay with your back to me, and you won’t tell me to stop, no matter what.” In that moment, your mouth seemed to have dried out so much that you nearly choked on your gasp the second you felt his teeth press into your throat to scrape up to your jaw. “Say you understand.”

You felt two hard cocks press against your ass, rutting into you in slow thrusts. The ideas that were left with you were mouthwatering. 

“I-I understand, my lord,” you whispered shakily, only to have your mouth covered seconds later by a large hand.

“And don’t call me that. Not right now.” 

He must not have needed your response because he kept his hand in place over your mouth, and with another, he palmed his way down between your thighs. Before you knew it, there was a smaller mouth sucking on your clit. The abrupt contact had you jolting with a cry while Sukuna pulled you back in while hushing you. He let out a groan, mouthing at your neck.

“I hope your flesh tastes half as good as your pussy,” he purred against your ear. “So fucking sweet–a flavor suited for gods like me.”

Your eyes widened upon his words while a certain kind of heat twisted deep within you. To hear him speak to you like that was arousing you more than you’ve ever been before. If you could, you’d beg to hear more of it.

The small tongue gave a parting lick to your clit before pulling back. And just as you were about to complain about the loss of stimulation, you felt two of his fingers slide down your slit to barely dip inside of you, circling around the entrance. Slowly, he inched them in, forcing a high-pitched whine out of your throat that Sukuna’s hand swallowed up. 

He hummed against you, “Still so tight, even after whoring yourself around with the sorceress. You both are always stuffing your fingers in each other’s cunts, I’d figure you’d be a little more stretched out than this.”

You heard it, the change in pitch, signaling he was feeling something. But what emotion was it exactly?

He pressed them inside, dragging them out slowly, like he was trying to coax something out of you before he repeated the motion again. 

“What a shame,” he cooed in a mocking tone, “I really planned on fucking you tonight, but I don’t want you to tear.” 

His hand fell away from your mouth to palm your tits, pinching at your hardened nipples until you were writhing against his hand.

Breathlessly, you mumbled, “I thought you wouldn’t fuck me. You said so the day I returned to you.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“M-Mhm-” You drew in a gasp when he added a third finger, stretching you more. The most you’d worked up to with Yorozu was two fingers, and hers were significantly smaller than Sukuna’s. But you had to admit that three of his had a lovely, full feel. “Why deny yourself the pleasure? You could have fucked me months ago.”

“When would there have been a chance? Any free time of yours is spent face down between Yorozu’s legs.” Whether he meant to or not, he pressed both of his lengths against your ass and groaned. “But it seems as though you’ll need more of the sorceress’s assistance. You’re still too tight to take me.” 

“What-?”

All too soon, he pulled away from you in every capacity, making you feel so fucking cold, despite being enveloped in hot water. You turned around to face him in such a quick motion that it left your head spinning. The sharp, condescending smirk you were met with pissed you off more than you were originally.

“N-No,” you stammered, reaching out for him, only to find that he was just out of your reach. “No, I can take it-”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re a whiny, entitled brat. I’d break you, and you’d cry, so you should probably stick to Yorozu’s fingers. But lucky you, you seem to like those enough.”

It hit you then–his attitude while traveling, his abrasive teaching method, forcing you to freeze and fight a bear in the dark, and then getting you all warm and ready for an orgasm, only to pull away at the last second…

“You’re punishing me, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head. “Why ever would I punish you?”

You gasped quietly. “You are, and you’re doing it in subtle ways, like I wouldn’t notice–passing it off as tough love.” Your eyes narrowed when you realized what this new emotion of his was. “Are you jealous of me?” 

“Jealous? Of you?” He cocked a brow and snickered, “Now, what is there to be jealous of, brat?” Sukuna leaned down, his face mere inches from yours. “I outrank you in every sense of the word.”

You gritted your teeth. “But I get to fuck Yorozu, and you don’t.”

His facial features hardened into stone before they cracked into a grin while he snickered. Standing straight, he towered over you, staring down at you like you meant nothing. 

“Do you think that if I truly wanted to fuck Yorozu, that I wouldn’t have done it a thousand times over by now? Even if she didn’t throw herself at me any chance she could, I’d still be able to have my way with her whenever I’d like, because I take whatever I want, and no one can stop me. Now, watch your mouth before I have to prove my point.”

You crossed your arms. “Prove your point by doing what? Fucking Yorozu?”

His eyes narrowed into slits at your blatant display of disrespect. He leaned forward again until he was right in your face. You didn’t back down, not at all; you wouldn’t let yourself be intimidated by him. 

“No, stupid girl. I’ll prove my point by bending you over the edge of this hot spring, and fucking your ass and your cunt at the same time, until you start begging the gods to make me stop. And then I’ll keep going just because I can, because you can’t stop me, because no one can stop me from doing anything. So watch your fucking mouth before I do something about it.”

“You wouldn't.”

And if you thought he looked angry before, that was nothing compared to how he looked at you next. Though his face was rigid, he appeared emotionless–that’s how you knew just how pissed and irritated he was with your back talk.

He walked you backwards until your lower back was firmly pressed against the rocky edge of the hot spring. Caged in by him once more, your confidence wavered slightly. When he raised his hand, you flinched away from it, expecting to be slapped or sliced–yet it was nothing like that at all. 

It was a caress–a gentle one, too.

Slowly, you raised your eyes from his chest, up to meet all four of his. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pressing into the corner of your mouth to coax it open. Once you did, he pressed down on your tongue before tracing the pad of his finger over the ridges of your teeth, feeling their sharpness.

You felt stuck in place, frozen under his intimidating stare. And when he leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouth and his, you really thought he was going to kiss you. 

He didn’t.

Instead, he stopped just before your noses could touch.

“You’ll watch your mouth, or I’ll slice off your tongue, and you’ll never speak again,” he purred so softly, as if he weren’t threatening you. “And wouldn’t that be a shame for poor Yorozu, to no longer have someone to lick her cunt.”

The abrupt changes of the tension, his mood swings, his words–they all left your head feeling a bit dizzy. 

He released your jaw from his hand and moved toward the edge of the pool to hoist himself out. Your eyes honed in on his backside, despite your efforts not to, as he grabbed his hakama pants he’d hung up on a nearby tree branch, to slip into.

* * * 

You arrived back at the shrine a little after noon the following day.

“Oh, you’ve returned earlier than expected,” Uraume commented as they opened the gates for you. 

Their eyes flicked to the empty space behind you, mouth gearing up to ask the obvious question, but you answered first. “Lord Sukuna thought it best to continue the trip on his own, so I returned alone.”

That wasn’t the truth–Sukuna didn’t give you orders to return, but you had done so anyway, not keen on traveling with him and his jealousy any longer. As it seemed, Uraume didn’t believe your lie for a second, but allowed you to enter anyway.

“Where’s the sorceress?” you asked, pulling at the black haori your mentor had lent to you.

“Hard to say. The last place I saw her was the study, reading over some new articles the villagers left as offerings.” They took the haori from you and folded it over their arm to clean. “You must be cold and hungry. If you follow me to the kitchen, I’ll-”

You interrupted them, already veering off from their lead. “That’s alright, Uraume. I’ll see to it to warm and feed myself. Thank you.”

You checked the study first, finding Yorozu there, as Uraume had said. Her back was to the door as she read over a scroll of paper with enough concentration that she didn’t notice you’d entered the space. The lantern she was curled up next to for warmth crackled, spitting little sparks into the air, and from the corner of the room wafted over the scent of burning incense. It was warm and calm–everything that your previous day had not been.

The door to the study slid shut, which is what garnered her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, peeking through strands of her long black hair as she smiled.

“I didn’t think you’d return so quickly.” She rolled up the scroll while you stepped closer. “How were your travels?”

“Cold,” you answered, hands moving toward your clothes to remove them. “Wet. Dreary.”

“Cold, wet, dreary,” she repeated and exhaled a laugh, which tapered off when she looked up again, seeing that you were almost nude. “Fitting for… the winter season, yes?”

“Indeed.” 

When you were down to your kosode, you knelt beside her and slid your fingers underneath the top layers of her winter robes, leaning in to kiss her. She responded to them slowly at first, leaning out to gauge your emotions until you pulled her back in. Her mouth felt nice against your own, soft and comforting.

“You’re so warm,” you commented, saddling onto her lap when she tugged at your kosode.

“And you’re so cold. Maybe you should warm up before taking off all your clothes.” When you only kissed her in response, she giggled and caved into your advances. You felt her shiver the second your hands slid beneath her clothes to palm her tits, and when you kneaded them too hard, she let out a quiet hiss. “Needy?”

“Very,” you answered, pulling the layers of her clothes down her shoulders until her chest was bare. You cupped the swell of her breasts, brushing your thumbs over her nipples until she let out a sigh against your mouth. 

“Did something happen between you and Sukuna?” Her question had your hands faltering, and of course, she noticed. “What was it? Was it bad?”

You shook your head and kissed down her neck. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’ll only assume the worst,” she taunted, though it was playful.

“Assume whatever you like.” Your hands pressed into her shoulders, pushing her to lie flat underneath you. “So long as I get to eat your pussy.”

You unraveled her robes, pressing open-mouthed kisses down her flat stomach until your tongue was circling over her clit. You had thought that was that, until she fisted your hair and pulled your mouth off her pussy. Your eyes flicked to hers, which held a touch of concern.

“Promise you’ll tell me after?”

You really didn’t want to. You wanted to forget that it happened altogether because it was only serving to piss you off. And what could you tell Yorozu–that Sukuna was jealous of you because you got to have the sorceress whenever you wanted?

And you wanted her in that moment–your face was mere inches away from her pussy, which could be the only reason why you agreed. 

“Okay. I promise.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, she lowered your mouth back to her cunt, holding the back of your head still to slowly grind against your tongue. Your gaze traveled up her bare sternum, settling on her chest and the way it swayed with each one of her breaths.

Your friend was so pretty and warm and nice and not fucking jealous of you, no matter how close it seemed you and Sukuna got. Her motives for sticking so close to him were odd–Sukuna was not a lonely man, though he didn’t mind having companions (hence you and Uraume). 

She wasn’t going to change his point of view on it, and she knew that. Perhaps that’s why she never found herself envious of your relationship with Sukuna, or maybe she saw you as fulfilling her ultimate end goal.

But all that said, it begs the question of why Sukuna is jealous of you, getting to have Yorozu this way, when he was more than capable. Either willingly or not, your friend could belong to Sukuna at any given moment, as soon as he decided he wanted that.

So why was he punishing you? Why was he angry with you?

Legs clamping shut around your head pulled you away from your straying thoughts, reminding you of what you and Yorozu were doing. She came against your mouth with a shudder and such pretty moans that made desire lick away at your nerves.

Her thighs fell away from your face, giving you the chance to breathe while she struggled to catch her own. You continued to suck and lick until she was pushing your head away. “Now, we talk,” she said, a little breathless.

“One more.” 

She must’ve seen the determination in your eyes because she didn’t put up much of a fight when you buried your face between her legs once more.

However, it was not just one more. Not even two or three. In fact, you lost count, and eventually, when you spared her one last glance, you realized the woman had fallen asleep after her final orgasm had faded out. You let out a sigh, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before climbing up her torso to lie beside her.

Just when you were about to follow her to sleep, she stirred beside you, nestling her face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. “A promise is a promise, you know,” she sleepily mumbled, “Tell me what happened.”

“Are you even going to stay awake long enough for me to tell you?”

You felt her smile press into your bare shoulder. “Give me the shortened version.”

The shortened version–you almost laughed at the thought. To be able to understand why Sukuna does anything requires a backstory and some details. But in that moment, you were both too tired for that.

“Alright. I believe our lord to be jealous of me because I have something that he wants.”

She giggled, curling her arm across your waist. “He’s not jealous, silly girl. He’s envious.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Of course. To be jealous is to be wary of losing something to someone else. But to be envious is to long for something you can’t have.”

* * * * * 

It was only a few hours later that you were roughly pulled off the floor of the study room. Sukuna dragged you by your ankle down the hallway, paying no mind to the fight you were putting up. You could sense the anger wafting off of him–it was stomach-churning.

“Stop!” The back of your head bumped along the floor as he went, until finally, you felt the cold chill from the outside air blowing in. “Sukuna, stop! Please! Let me go!” Seconds later, you got your wish, but it came in the form of him throwing you out into the deep layers of snow with only your thin, damp kosode to keep you warm.

Once more, you were tossed into darkness to fight a beast you couldn’t clearly see, only this beast was Sukuna, and not something as helpless as a bear.

You flinched when you felt his hand grip your jaw, angling your face up. Just barely, you could see the outline of his features.

“Who do you think you are, running off on your own, leaving me out there to wonder where you went?”

“Oh, spare me, my lord,” you spat, “I’m sure you handled yourself just fine without some lazy, stupid girl trailing behind you, running her mouth, all but asking for you to slice off her tongue-”

“It would have been long gone by now if I truly meant that, you petulant little brat.”

From under the engawa, you heard a feminine voice call out to you both, asking, “Must you fight?”

Sukuna didn’t turn to address Yorozu, but you did, never taking your eyes off your mentor. “It’s alright, Yorozu.”

“But are you alright?” she asked, and you heard the snow crunch under her feet as she ventured closer.

You raised your hand to stop her from taking another step, turning to ask Sukuna, “So why threaten me with removing my tongue, if you were never going to do it?”

“Because threatening you used to keep you in line, but ever since you befriended that sorceress whore-”

“That sorceress whore? Say her name, Sukuna. It’s Yorozu, and you are so fucking jealous–no, envious of me, that I get to fuck her and you don’t! Because you can’t, thanks to some of your self-proclaimed morals! And they’re fucking foolish–you’re foolish!”

The look on his face was incredulous, exasperated, bewildered. Then you heard him chuckle, and somehow, it chilled the wintry atmosphere even more. Even your friend, a couple of paces away, felt how everything started to freeze over and let out a quiet gasp.

She took another step forward. “Pretty girl, that’s not what-” 

Her words were swallowed by her quick intake of air when Sukuna grabbed her arm, pulling him right in front of her. She whimpered when two of his hands fisted the garment she had on and tore it off her body, tossing the fabric aside to leave her shivering in the cold.

“Sukuna-”

“Be silent,” he ordered you, and turned the woman to face you. The second your eyes met, an uncomfortable exchange happened. You didn’t know what you should feel, and neither did Yorozu. But there was one thing you could see above anything else.

She wasn’t smiling; she wasn’t trying to gloat. But you could see the eagerness in her eyes–this is what she wanted, what she’s pined over since you’d come to know her.

She was excited.

He raised her off the ground with two of his hands while the other two grabbed the bottom of her thighs, spreading them apart for you to see everything that was about to happen between her legs. Sukuna pulled his cocks free from his pants, and without warning, without any preparation, he shoved both of them into her pussy. 

Your breathing hitched at the sight, and instantly, she went still in his arms, turning painfully rigid, biting back a cry, but the eagerness in her eyes never faded. He was hurting her, and she liked it.

Her head tipped back to rest on his shoulder while he mouthed at her neck, never taking his eyes off of you while he fucked her hard. The sound of it was sickening, but arousing–conflicting, too. You weren’t sure what to feel anymore.

The moonlight was reflecting off his slickened cocks, pumping into her pussy, and even the trickles of her arousal that were dripping down to coat his sack. She was enjoying it, but Sukuna… you weren’t sure. His expression didn’t change, didn’t soften from his glare, nor did he make any sort of noise. Not that it would matter, with how loud Yorozu was crying out for him not to stop.

And when she finally came around his cocks, you felt a little dizzy. You didn’t know why, but your bottom lip began to tremble, and tears welled in your eyes. You should leave. You should just go back inside so you weren’t there to witness him finishing inside of her, because you felt as though that might actually make you sick. Yet you couldn’t move under his stare.

When she went limp against him, he finally let go of her, allowing her shaky legs to slide to the ground and barely support her. He brushed off her hands when she reached out to him, which sent her stumbling into the snow.

“Fuck…” she breathed, giggling deliriously. While she got to live in her euphoric little bubble, outside of it, you and Sukuna were still staring at one another.

You wiped at your eyes with a stiff hand, sniffling to yourself, but not backing down from the competition. At the sight of your tears, Sukuna’s face split into a sharp grin.

“We’re on even ground now, yes?” he coyly questioned, tilting his head just a bit to feign a playful exterior. It was anything but–it was lethal.

And your next words would push the limits.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.”

“Not yet, but if I desire you the next time I’m in the mood, I might consider bending you over.” His grin never faltered, and faster than you could track, he put you on your knees in front of him. “Since you enjoy the taste of her so much, I’ll honor you with the task of cleaning me up.”

He didn’t ask before he forced one of his cocks down your throat, and instantly, the taste of Yorozu’s pussy coated your tongue, tinged with a metallic taste. You choked around him, fighting his hand on the back of your head as he forced you to swallow him deeper.

You hit him, you pushed at him, you did everything you could to get away-

Until you heard him moan for you.

Slowly, you looked up, meeting all four of his red eyes. His breathing seemed to hitch right then, his thrusts down your throat faltering and slowing, almost like he was going to pull out. 

When you felt the underside of his tip glide over your tongue, you reached out to grab his thighs, holding him in place while you relaxed your throat to take more of him. At first, the grip he had on your hair tightened so harshly that you winced, painfully moaning around his cock. He exhaled a heavy breath, lips slightly parting as he finally started to guide your movements.

The more relaxed he became, the more confident you got. You grabbed hold of his other cock, pumping him with a tight fist. 

You began to wonder at which point he was going to toss you away as he’d done with Yorozu. After all, he was using you to prove a point just as he’d used her. 

But he didn’t moan when he fucked her. He didn’t have a helpless look in his eyes like he did as he looked down at you, watching you stroke and suck him.

You realized then that somewhere in the time between him putting you on your knees to the current moment, he stopped wanting you to clean him off and just wanted to get off in your mouth. You liked that–him using you for that purpose. Or maybe you just liked how he looked as he did it. 

The sounds that filled the air, his panting, you swallowing him down, it was turning you on, so much that you couldn’t help but reach between your legs and shove your fingers into your pussy. 

You moaned as you flexed your hips to take them deeper, thinking how easy it would be to get off like that. Sukuna tracked your hand movements between your legs and cursed under his breath before asking, “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

You shook your head, slowly pulling back from his cock until your lips just barely grazed his tip. You panted, “There was never any time, my lord. I was always looking for you.”

“Fuck, don’t call me that right now,” he groaned, tilting his head back.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not a child anymore.”

“But you’re still my lord,” you muttered against his cock, sliding your tongue underneath his tip. “You took care of me. You protected me. You’re my savior, aren’t you?”

A strangled sound fell from his mouth as he shoved you away, this time with a gentle touch. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

The moment shattered then, and as he started to guide himself back into his pants, you were scrambling to make him stop. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you and instead turned to walk back into the shrine. Your wide eyes were stuck on his retreating back, confused as ever. In the snow pile just a few feet from you, you heard Yorozu bite back her laughter, which gained your attention. You looked over to see her pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. 

“What the fuck was that?” she asked, giggling. 

Slowly, you shrugged, entirely bewildered by what had transpired in such a short amount of time. “I have no idea.”

The absurdity of it struck you a little funny, too, and before you could help yourself, you were laughing along with your friend, bringing yourselves to near tears as you shuffled through the snow to get closer to her.

* * * 

“Good morning,” Yorozu greeted, stepping out on the frosty engawa, where Sukuna was sitting, smoking kiseru in hand.

Just as the sun had started to rise above the horizon, the shrine’s atmosphere turned a little colder, leaving a chill to nip along the sorceress’s skin. Yorozu had disentangled her limbs from yours only moments ago, leaving you to snooze on the tatami floor, close to the smoldering lantern to keep you warm while she went off to find the origin of the new chill.

“Are you aware that our common interest didn’t know the difference between jealousy and envy?” At her question, the man grunted, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips as she continued, “But fret not. I set her straight.”

“How lucky she must feel to have such a doting teacher,” he groused through a mouthful of smoke. “I suppose she told you what happened on the hunting trip, then?”

“Not in detail, but I’m certainly clever enough to figure it out. It was fairly simple. She was basically writing it out between my legs with her tongue-”

“Don’t be crude.”

“But you’re a crude man, Sukuna.” Yorozu stepped closer, taking her spot right beside him. “I remember when there were concubines all over this shrine. You took them in by the dozen.”

“As a food source-”

“But you fucked them first, didn’t you?” When he didn’t respond, she tapped her pointer finger nail on the weathered wood below her. “And you fucked me, too.”

“Should I consider you a concubine now? Is that what you want?”

“Not exactly.” Playfully, Yorozu leaned her head on Sukuna’s shoulder, which he quickly pushed away with a shrug of his shoulder. “While I’m always eager to climb into your bed, I don’t want to be a concubine. From your lips, I’d still like to be referred to as the sorceress. It has a lovely sound to it.” She let out a quiet giggle. “Besides, we both know last night was merely for show. You were proving a point, weren’t you?”

“And what point was I needing to prove then, sorceress?”

Yorozu didn’t need to respond to that–they both knew the answer as if it were written in the air right in front of them. Instead, she settled on something far simpler. “You’re bewitched by her.”

“I’m bewitched?” Sukuna scoffed, “A concubine, a sorceress, or a poet–pick a damn trade already, woman.”

She held her laughter behind a bitten bottom lip. “Okay, bewitched perhaps isn’t the right word-”

“Not even close. Interested, I’d say.”

The woman kept speaking over him. “Fascinated–oh, I know. Mesmerized–no, more like enchanted-”

“Mesmerized? Enchanted? The brat is not a damn mirage, you idiot.”

“No?” Yorozu questioned coyly, tilting her head to one side, allowing her long black hair to slide over her face. “Then why do you look at her as though she is?”

Sukuna’s limbs froze, kiseru held just in front of his mouth as he gave her words some thought. “I don’t-”

“You do-”

“And who are you to argue with me?” he snapped, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips, inhaling deeply to use up the last of the substance in the pipe. “The woman interests me more than she should, but to be anything more than simply interested is not…”

As he trailed off to find the right word, Yorozu offered some of her own. “Isn’t what? Justifiable?”

“It isn’t right,” he settled on with a long, drawn-out sigh. “The woman is… so similar to me, not just with her technique, but her childhood, too.”

“She is not a child anymore, Sukuna-”

“Spare me. I do have eyes. Four of them. I’m well aware she has… grown up.” The smoldering ash in the pipe died out, prompting Sukuna to turn it over and dump it out over the engawa–away from your stupid koi fish, of course. “It has nothing to do with her age.”

“Then what’s stopping you from fucking her-”

“Watch your mouth, you wench,” he scolded, earning an amused huff from Yorozu.

“Forgive me. Allow me to rephrase. It’s very clear that you both want one another, so what’s stopping you?”

He didn’t have to ponder the answer long.

“My respect for her.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Yorozu’s head snap to face him. “Respect? Since when do you respect anyone other than your servant?”

“I respect those who have earned it.” 

Sukuna pushed himself to his feet, striding toward the open shoji as Yorozu all but crawled after him to ask, “And she’s earned it?”

“In a way, I suppose she has. While she fights me at every turn and sports a tongue that’s as vulgar as yours, she’s managed to prove that she carries a backbone that rivals my own in terms of permanence. I believe that to be a respectable feat.”

Just as he went to take another step, she spoke once more. “My backbone is just as rigid. I hold my ground, too. So, I don't understand-”

“You wouldn’t. You hail from a loving place, having known what it’s like to not be ostracized for things that you cannot control. Having such strength is a lot easier to achieve when you've been supported your entire life. The rest of us weren’t so lucky.”

master list || next chapter

I really didn't have a plan for this little story when I started it. It was just a way to practice writing True Form Sukuna smut, and as you can see, I'm still avoiding it. That being said, it will be in the next chapter, and the next chapter will also be the last.

If you wanna be tagged for the last chapter, lemme know! I can't say for sure when I'll have it out, since these are just sort of practice chapters, so I only work on it when I need a break from my other stories.

Thank you for reading! <3!!

tag list: @uluvlillypad @rriwyu @bcurrton @bloomlilyww @kaofindj

perm tags: @shrewdreader @man1cslut @ane5e