elise

choso, eyes rimmed red and glossy, glances up quickly at the familiar voice. his pupils grow wide at the sight of sukuna, shaking with rage. and already fallen off the edge…actively losing it.

kaori’s eyes widen in shock, her gaze drops to her hand then to her step-son. she swallows thickly. her short black bob lays flat on her head, a black skirt hugs her waist, as the rest flows, reaching her boney ankles. her formal attire stands out in the sea of casually under dressed teenagers and young adults. and none of it can hide the slight wrinkles around her neck, or the unnerving sensation that shoots through sukuna when she meets his gaze.

“choso said you weren’t here—“

she doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence when sukuna’s suddenly slamming the frail woman into the wall. choso’s eyes widen as sukuna’s frame towers over her with little effort. he ignores how his hand shakes, gripping the collar of her blouse, squeezing. every muscle in his body shifts, tightening his hold on her.

“I asked you a fucking question!” he shouts in her face. unbothered by the sudden looks of people backstage, including ino, who ran into the crowd to call for sukuna when the woman came in.

a few moments earlier….

ino’s standing beside mechamaru, the two watching over choso as he adjusts his guitar for the fourth time that night.

“dude it sounded fine before, now you’re just messing with it,” mechamaru exhales in exasperation.

choso’s brows pinch, “no, this chord is loose.”

“because you keep playing with it.”

“just give me a sec!” choso snaps.

the two boys glance at one another, looking down at their distraught friend. it’s obvious choso’s been on edge since they arrived. but the guy won’t give them a straight answer. instead he keeps fidgeting and messing with his guitar like there’s a fly constantly buzzing in his ear. to make matters worse, ino and mechamaru noticed sukuna coming in with a couple of his friends. last they heard, choso still hasn’t cleared the air with him. is that why he’s on edge?

“got it,” choso finally exhales.

unfortunately, the good news is immediately cut short when choso notices his bandmates looking like they’ve just been shot.

standing behind him is the uncanny woman that looks like a spitting image of their best friend. choso’s heart drops to his ass, and the blood drains from his face in seconds.

“choso.”

the unnerving sound of his name coming from this woman’s lips has a chill running down his spine. his sweat turns cold as he looks up from his seat on the ground, quickly moving to stand up. choso stands at nearly the same height as the tall skinny woma, maybe an inch or so taller.

“mom, how’d you—“

SLAP!

the sound rings so sharp it cuts through the muffled bass bleeding from the stage outside. choso freezes. completely still. his head jerked with the impact, black hair falling into his face as the sting blooms hot across his cheek. for a second, he doesn’t even process what happened. his body locks up as his brain tries to catch up. his eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares somewhere past her shoulder.

ino and mechamaru go dead silent. the two boys stand there like statues, shock written all over their faces as kaori lowers her hand with terrifying calmness. there’s no guilt at all, just that same unreadable expression.

“you lied to me,” she says coldly. the authority in her voice settles instantly, suffocating the space around them.

choso slowly lifts a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she actually hit him. it’s been years— his throat feels tight.

“choso,” she says again, sharper this time. “i’m speaking to you.”

his eyes flick up properly now, confusion and disbelief behind his eyes as he finally looks at her. then instinctively, his gaze darts toward ino and mechamaru.

his jaw clenches.

“can we talk after?” he mutters quickly, voice rougher than normal. “i’m about to go up—”

“no. we’re talking now.”

her fingers wrap around his wrist immediately. it tightens, making choso stiffen as she pulls him toward the farther corner backstage, away from the noise and people passing through, heels clicking.

the second they’re out of earshot, mechamaru’s neck nearly snaps as he whirls toward ino. “why is she here?!” he whisper-shouts.

ino throws his arms up, drumsticks still clutched in one hand. “i don’t know! that was a hard fucking slap too—”

both boys suddenly glance back toward the corner kaori dragged choso to, he’s sitting on a stool as she stands in front of him. and the reality settles ugly in their stomachs. maybe this is exactly why sukuna didn’t want choso around her alone. and neither of them have to voice that realization.

“should we—”

“i don’t want him killing us though—”

“he’ll kill us for sure, but if we call him he probably won’t!” ino cuts in frantically, already moving. “c’mon!”

the two practically trip over themselves rushing out backstage. the second they hit the main crowd, the noise slams into them full force. music shaking the grass, colored lights flashing violently overhead from the strobes attached to the makeshift stage, and bodies shove shoulder-to-shoulder near the elevated stage as another band screams through their set on stage. the battle of the bands was the first huge event kicking off summer break, and the turnout at the rented park is insane and only getting bigger as more people flood in.

finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.

“i honestly don’t know which way he went!” mechamaru yells over the music, shoving past a group near the bar trucks.

“split up!” ino shouts back immediately. “call me if you find him!”

they separate without another word, because somewhere in this packed park is a six-foot-four soccer captain with face tattoos, a terrifying temper, and enough presence to make grown men shut up when he walks into a room, and right now they need him.

eventually, ino spots a familiar head of pink hair through the sea of people. well….two heads.

an almost identical, much smaller version of the man he’s looking for sits perched on sukuna’s shoulders, glow sticks hanging around yuuji’s neck as the eleven-year-old screams along to the music like he’s completely lost his mind. sukuna isn’t much better, one tattooed arm is hooked around yuuji’s leg while he shouts something toward the stage, feral under the flashing lights.

ino nearly cries in relief, “sukuna!”

he starts shoving through people immediately, bumping shoulders and muttering rushed apologies until he finally reaches the college student. his hand grabs the back of sukuna’s plain black tee.

sukuna whips around instantly, ready to shove whoever grabbed him, then stops. “ino—”

“there’s a small problem!” the drummer’s panting, sweat dripping down his temple from sprinting around the park venue. sukuna’s expression shifts immediately. brows pinching sharply as his stomach drops before ino even finishes speaking. he can see it all over the kid’s face.

“choso’s mom is here.”

everything happens at once. yuuji yelps as sukuna grabs him off his shoulders without warning, shoving the younger boy toward gojo’s side. the white-haired man barely catches him properly before sukuna’s already gripping ino hard by the arm.

“where?”

“backstage—she took him—”

“watch him,” sukuna snaps toward gojo and geto, voice suddenly low cutting through the music.

gojo’s grin vanishes instantly. geto’s brows pinch instantly, that tone isn’t new to them. “for sure,” gojo says immediately.

ino doesn’t hesitate. he spins around and starts forcing his way back through the crowd, sukuna right behind him. except “behind” isn’t even the right word, his shoulder slams into strangers hard enough to make them stumble, dark eyes fixed ahead as the noise around him dulls. his pulse pounds violently in his ears with every step, ino’s words looping over and over in his head.

choso’s mom is here. his jaw clenches so hard it hurts. and somewhere deep in his chest— something ugly starts waking up.

present….

“I asked you a fucking question!”

kaori raises a hand to her step-son’s forearm. lips parting as her eyes dart over his hardened expression, his eyes flashing red, every muscle on his body protruding as sweat beads down his forehead.

“are you deaf?—“ he snaps after she takes too long to respond. his head snaps to choso still sitting on the stool. “she hit you?”

choso stands, head dropping and hand covering his face. his heart pounds against his chest.

“choso—“

choso’s clenches his jaw, blood boiling.

“choso—“

“forget about it!” choso snaps.

sukuna suddenly lets go of kaori, taking the single step to uncover choso’s face. his other hand cups his chin, tilting his face up, and it all hits him at once. the tears building behind his brother’s brown eyes, looking away from the older as he bites down on his teeth, and the bright red hand print on his right cheek.

kaori smooths out the front of her wrinkled blouse, eyes cold as ice.

“choso lied to me,” she says flatly, but not to sukuna, she never talks to him, it’s always at him. “he told me the money was for cram school because he was falling behind in his classes and needed it for his finals.” her lip curls faintly as she gestures toward the backstage area and the unruly screaming crowd beyond the curtains. “then i find out it was for this.”

choso tries pulling away from sukuna’s grip, but sukuna’s frozen, completely still as he stares at the red handprint burning against his little brother’s cheek. the heat builds u see his skin, sweat collecting behind his neck.

“spending time with you has rubbed off on him, something I did not want to know.”

that finally makes sukuna’s eyes snap upward, sharp and furious as his gaze cuts to choso instead of her. “how would she know to give you that money?” he asks quietly, that tone is worse than yelling.

choso visibly shrinks, shoulders tightening as he avoids eye contact. “she asked to meet with me,” he mutters, uncomfortable. “and asked if i needed anything.”

sukuna’s jaw flexes hard enough to hurt. “so when I asked you, it was before that?” choso looks away. and that’s all he needs. sukuna’s head whips toward kaori so fast it nearly startles ino beside them. “I’m getting a fucking restraining order on your fucking ass.”

kaori scoffs immediately. “we both know that’s not an option.” she crosses her arms now, anger bleeding through her composed expression. “i’m more concerned about my son going around asking people for money over some ridiculous band competition while struggling in school—”

“choso isn’t struggling with shit!” sukuna barks. “he’s a fucking genius. that’s how he scammed your psycho ass in the first place.”

people nearby are definitely staring now. a few phones are raised before mechamaru immediately starts hissing at people to stop recording while ino frantically waves others back. choso looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.

“are you seriously praising him for lying?” kaori demands.

“to you? fuck yeah.” sukuna steps closer. towering. violent rage practically radiating off him. “actually, i’m disappointed he didn’t ask for more money.”

“ryo—” choso starts weakly, oozing with embarrassment.

“that’s what you get for going behind my back,” sukuna cuts over him, eyes locked onto kaori. “throw all the money you want at him. choso isn’t going anywhere near you.”

“choso,” kaori says again softly, completely ignoring sukuna, that sets him off. choso’s face twists, confusion and guilt and stress all mixing together as he looks between them. “you know i’m just disappointed in your actions,” kaori tells him, voice suddenly gentler in a terrifying way that makes sukuna see red. “you can tell me if you’re having trouble asking your grandfather for things.”

the faux sweetness hits choso like another slap. sukuna sees the hesitation and confusion immediately. choso’s chest tightens, and suddenly sukuna’s moving again.

“stop fucking talking to him like that,” he snarls, voice low and shaking with fury. “jus’ ‘cause he answered your texts doesn’t mean you can suddenly care about him.”

“ry—” choso tries, voice tight.

sukuna doesn’t even hear him.

“you’re outta your fucking mind if you think giving him money is gonna win him over.” sukuna spits at kaori.

“i was helping my son,” kaori fires back immediately.

“your son?” sukuna laughs harshly. “now he’s your son?”

“ryo,” choso says again, louder this time, but sukuna’s blood is roaring too loudly in his ears to listen.

“i didn’t forget the way you fucking treated them,” sukuna steps closer. “some mother leaving bruises on her fucking kid, making him all jumpy. not after the shit you did with me—“

“i said stop!”

the shout cuts through backstage so sharply that even the people shouting over the music nearby go quiet for half a second. sukuna freezes. choso’s chest heaves. his face is bright red now from humiliation and anger. his eyes are glossy with held back tears that only seem to piss him off more.

“I don’t give a shit!” he snaps, voice cracking despite how hard he’s trying to keep it steady.

kaori’s expression shifts quick. “choso—”

“no—” he jerks away before she can touch him again, stumbling closer to sukuna, instinctively. “don’t— don’t touch me.” his breathing is uneven. ino and mechamaru exchange nervous looks from a few feet away. “I don’t fucking care about anything other than playing tonight—that’s it!” choso gestures wildly.

sukuna’s jaw clenches.

“i can handle my own shit,” choso continues, breathing shakily now, attention now on his older brother. “ya don’t have to make a big deal outta something when I didn’t ask for it!”

sukuna’s eyes darken immediately. “the hell you mean by that?”

“i mean i’m not yuuji!” choso explodes. “you don’t have to hover over me every second like i’m two!” a thick ugly silence follows, even choso goes quiet after saying it, but he doesn’t take it back. instead he glances briefly at his older brother, than at his mother, his jaw tightens. “i’ll pay you back the money by the end of summer,” choso snaps, eyes burning now. “so you can be disappointed at me, somewhere else.”

the words hit hard, then choso walks away, angry. truly angry.

sukuna watches his younger brother shove past the backstage clutter, shoulders stiff and fists clenched at his sides and for a split second, the resemblance is almost nauseating. not in appearance — sukuna’s always known choso looked too much like her — but in their temperament. the rage settling ugly beneath his skin until it explodes. sukuna never really noticed how much of himself choso inherited. but kaori notices it immediately, especially when her expression flickers.

choso reaches ino and mechamaru, both immediately crowding him with questions.

“dude are you okay?”

“what the hell was that?”

“did she seriously—”

“i’m fine,” choso cuts sharply. the three fall quiet, choso’s fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar before he looks toward the stage entrance where the current band is finishing up.

“we’re up next,” he says, jaw locked. “and we’re gonna fucking win this.”

ino blinks, then quickly grins. “HELL YEAH,” he shouts, shaking choso’s shoulders.

mechamaru nods quickly beside him, still nervous, but determined all the same. and just like that, the three disappear further backstage toward the stage call area, leaving sukuna alone with kaori.

sukuna’s sharp eyes cut through her, there was no holding back now that choso was gone. his hand snaps back onto her blouse, fingers curling in the fabric until it bunches tight and strains under his grip. he yanks her forward, lifting her just enough that her heels barely touch the ground.

“i’m going to fucking kill you,” he spits. his voice is low, and shaking with controlled rage. it was worse than shouting. “I’ll rip your arm straight out of your body if you—” his grip tightens again, the words weren’t enough to contain what he meant. “—ever lay a finger on him.”

kaori’s breath catches. she’s on her tippy toes now, frozen, sweat gathering at her temple, and for the first time, something in her cracks. this wasn’t another intimidation tactic or performance. it was a real threat from sukuna.

he leans in closer, voice dropping even further, every word precise, already imagining how it would happen. “i won’t even give you a chance to breathe,” his eyes are deep crimson blood, “if you touch them again… i’ll rip you in half before you even know what’s happening.”

and with that, sukuna lets go of kaori, and she stumbles back a step, catching herself with a sharp inhale.

“keep threatening me,” kaori spits, chin lifting even as her voice wavers at the edges. “I don’t take childish boys seriously—“

something in sukuna snaps again. “i’m gonna fucking kill you, you cunt—”

he steps forward, already closing the distance with terrifying quickiness— and then an arm locks around his chest and yanks him backward.

“what the fuck?!” sukuna twists immediately, muscles tensing as he fights the grip, but it holds him steady, pulling him off his line like he weighs nothing. he doesn’t even need to see the face at first, he just knows from the strength alone.

toji.

sukuna digs his heels in, shoulders straining as he tries to wrench free. “get off me,” he snaps, still fighting forward, still locked on kaori like she’s the only thing in the room. but toji doesn’t budge. he just drags him back another step, grounding him with pure force, cutting through the athletes strength with some struggle.

“get a fucking grip!” toji snaps in his ear. he uses every muscle in his body to knock sukuna off his weight again and drag him further away.

sukuna digs his fingers into toji’s forearms, but it’s too late when he’s pushed back to the exit, joining the crowd cheering the current band.

“fuck!” sukuna shouts, receiving a hard shove from toji until he’s completely knocked back. the rage had boiled way over, that toji standing in front of him, just as pissed, then he’s gripping sukuna’s collar, bringing him to his face, fist raised.

“are you fucking seventeen again!” he shouts, the music and chaos around them made everything much calmer than what was actually happening. “I’ll knock your teeth out if you don’t calm down!”

sukuna still struggles—

PUNCH

the hit directly lands on sukuna’s eye, sending him back, but toji keeps him up. fist curling tighter. “you wanna fuck everything for your brothers? do you!”

“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits on toji, just to receive another punch directly in his solar plexes, almost knocking the wind straight out of him.

his breath catches, a few people nearby step away in surprise. the ocean crashes in the distance. toji still grips his shoulder. sukuna is hunched over, catching his breath, back rising and falling like a beast ready to attack. but instead, sukuna aggressively shrugs toji’s hand away.

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he repeats under his breath.

toji rubs his face, chest heaving with his own rage.

“woah! what happened!” yuuji shouts over the music, eyes wide as sukuna finds them in the crowd again, toji not far behind.

gojo, geto, megumi, and now nanami, all glance up, all stunned at the bruise slowly forming around sukuna’s eye. sukuna looks furious still, not explosive like before, but still pissed. the anger settling deep. his chest still rises hard under each breath, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.

toji walks a few steps behind him, equally pissed, rubbing at his own face.

“jesus christ,” gojo says first, brows lifting. “did you get jumped?”

“shut the fuck up,” sukuna mutters instantly.

his voice comes rougher than usual, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand standing back beside his brother.

yuuji stares up at him wide-eyed. “did someone hit you?!”

sukuna finally looks at him then. his expression doesn’t soften much, but something in his eyes shifts slightly at the sight of his little brother hovering there, worried out of his mind.

“i’m fine,” sukuna says shortly.

yuuji clearly doesn’t buy it. “your eye’s all swollen.”

“and?” sukuna shoots back, dismissive, though the edge in his tone dulls just a little. “still standing.”

toji scoffs behind him. “barely.”

sukuna cuts him a glare sharp enough to kill. for a second, it looks like sukuna might start yelling again, but then he just exhales hard through his nose and leans his head back instead. the ocean crashes somewhere behind them. music shaking the ground beneath their feet.

geto studies the tension between the two men carefully. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing,” sukuna says immediately. yuuji still lingers beside him, nervous energy practically radiating off him, and sukuna notices immediately.“quit staring at me,” he mutters, finally shoving lightly at yuuji’s shoulder. “i said i’m fine.”

yuuji doesn’t even get the chance to respond before sukuna suddenly grabs him by the waist and lifts him back onto his shoulders like nothing happened. except everyone notices the slight wince that flashes across sukuna’s face. his hand brushes his stomach for half a second, fingers pressing there instinctively before he adjusts yuuji’s legs over his shoulders again.

toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.

“choso is up,” sukuna says instead, voice flat, already looking back toward the stage through the crowd.

yuuji steadies himself, hands gripping the top of sukuna’s head as he tries to lean down to see his brothers bruised eye. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“you ask too many questions,” sukuna mutters. but he keeps one hand locked around yuuji’s calf anyway, secure and steady despite the bruise forming around his eye and the ache spreading through his ribs.

gojo watches the whole thing with raised brows. “wow. tough guy for real.”

“say another word and i’ll knock your teeth out.”

“there he is,” geto sighs. nanami shakes his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitches for barely a second. behind them, toji exhales through his nose, still irritated, but at least sukuna has settled for the time being.

everyone’s attention shifts fully to the stage as choso’s band gets called up. megumi sits on toji’s shoulders, arms loosely resting over his dad’s head as the whole group drifts closer to the center front where the crowd thickens. lights flare across the stage, as the anticipation of the next band rolls through the audience. yuuji immediately lights up the second he spots choso stepping into place.

“CHOSOOOO!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs, bouncing on sukuna’s shoulders. sukuna tightens his grip instinctively, keeping him steady. the motion pulls at his bruised ribs again, but he doesn’t show it beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.

“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”

sukuna exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on the stage. choso stands under the lights now, adjusting his position at the mic, shoulders rolling back shaking off everything that happened earlier. the crowd noise builds around him, voices overlapping, everyone cheering.

gojo cups his hands around his mouth. “YOU GUYS GOT THIS!!”

on stage, choso finally looks up, and for a split second, his eyes find the group in the crowd.

yuuji waves wildly like his life depends on it. “you got this choooo!!!!”

sukuna doesn’t wave, but he holds eye contact with choso for a moment longer than anyone else, steady and sharp. the bruise on his face not visible under the shifting lights.

choso inhales sharply, shaking off the rest of his anxiety. sweat building from the nerves and heat. and then they start.

the first hit of ino’s drums sends the entire crowd shouting with excitement…

sukuna’s chest tightens. the uneasiness weighs on his shoulders as a dark pit quietly stirs awake inside him. though his focus remains ahead, eyes locked on his brother performing their first set, there’s that lingering anger that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

not since he was seventeen, standing by the intersection, red and blue lights flashing across his face, and his dad’s car jammed slightly beneath the truck, completely crushed.

“shit—that’s your dad’s car?” kashimo repeats, as if saying it again will snap sukuna back.

but he’s already moving. his feet stumble off the sidewalk before his mind catches up, shoving straight into the street. his skull is split open by the sirens screaming loudly. ambulances and police cars clogging the street. the headlights blur his vision, only seeing the wreck straight ahead.

“SUKUNA—!” kashimo pushes after him, nearly slipping as he forces his way through the growing crowd. officers notice immediately when the two teenagers duck beneath the tape.

“hey! kid—!” an officer grabs for sukuna’s arm.

sukuna violently shoves him off. “THAT’S MY DAD —!”

his voice sounds unfamiliar to him as it tears straight out of his throat, making the officer stumble back just enough for sukuna to break free and start running the second he sees paramedics dragging someone out from the passenger side.

his stomach drops.

the familiar body is pulled out, and all he sees is his father covered in deep red blood.

blood coats his face, runs down his neck, soaks through the front of his shirt. glass sticks to his skin. bruises already spread dark beneath the flashing lights while firefighters shout over each other around the wreck. controlling the truck from starting a fire. sukuna drops beside his dad so fast it scrapes the skin clean off his knees.

“shit—shit, shit, shit—” his hands shake violently as he looks at all the blood.

one of the paramedics tries pulling him back. “kid, you need to move—”

“dad?” sukuna grabs onto jin’s arm anyway, panic rising so violently inside him it feels like he’ll throw up. “dad, what the fuck—? WHAT THE FUCK?!”

his voice cracks at the end, eyes wide as jin tries to respond but only wheezing comes out. blood covers one of his eyes as he struggles to open them properly. every breath sounds wet and broken.

“r-ry—” his fingers twitch upward weakly, trying to reach him.

and suddenly sukuna can’t fucking breathe, the anger explodes through his chest making him dizzy. “YOU SHOULD’VE STAYED WITH ME!” sukuna shouts, tears burning hot behind his eyes. “WHY DID YOU GO AFTER HER?!”

jin barely seems aware of the wreck around him, or the paramedics putting a mask on him, or the blood soaking through his clothes. instead, his entire focus stays on his eldest son kneeling beside him with bloodshot eyes, and an anger he can’t seem to ease.

“ryo…” he wheezes painfully. “men…” his hand finally reaches sukuna’s hand, smearing blood across his skin.

behind them, paramedics pull another person from the opposite side of the car, alive and walking. kaori stumbles against the police cruiser, hysterical, mascara running down her face. her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused.

“ma’am,” an officer says sharply, catching her arm before she falls again. “have you been drinking tonight?”

another officer immediately steps in beside him after smelling it. kaori starts crying harder, words slurring together into panicked nonsense.

sukuna looks up. then something inside him twists… his father is laying in front of him and she’s standing.

“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits, shoving himself to his feet so fast his knees nearly give out beneath him. jin’s bloodied hand slips from his sleeve, still reaching after him weakly.

“ryomen…”

but sukuna already storms forward. an officer immediately moves between him and kaori. “hey—hey! back up!”

“get the fuck out of my way!” sukuna barks, trying to shove past him again, completely losing it.

kaori sits against the side of the ambulance now while a paramedic presses gauze against the cut on her forehead. another wraps a blanket around her shoulders despite the smell of alcohol practically soaking the air around her. she looks up just in time to see sukuna lunging toward her and for the first time that night, genuine fear crosses her face.

“you did this!” sukuna screams.

two officers grab him before he reaches her. sukuna fights violently in their grip, rage tearing through him he can barely see anything besides red.

“HE WENT AFTER YOU!” he shouts. “HE FUCKING WENT AFTER YOU!”

“kid, calm down—”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”

behind him, paramedics suddenly start shouting near jin’s stretcher. one of them yells for another medic, and starts pushing sukuna’s father faster toward the ambulance.

what followed turned into a blur that sukuna’s mind never fully managed to piece together afterward. his body moved before his mind did. one second officers held him back, paramedics shouting around him, and the next he climbed into the ambulance beside his father while someone yelled that he couldn’t ride along unless he stayed seated.

sukuna didn’t even remember agreeing, he just remembered the inside of the ambulance feeling freezing cold, remembered the medic cutting jin’s shirt open, and remembered the blood. so much blood.

sukuna sat there with blood covering both hands, staring while they worked on his father right in front of him. jin barely stayed conscious the entire ride. every now and then his eyes opened halfway, searching weakly until they landed on sukuna again. like he needed to make sure he was still there. and every single time, sukuna felt something twist apart inside his chest.

then the hospital lights replaced the sirens. people moved around him constantly, nurses, doctors, officers asking questions—but sukuna stayed hunched over in the waiting room chair with his elbows on his knees and his father’s blood smeared across his hands. he stared at the floor so long he lost track of everything.

the automatic doors eventually opened again. heavy footsteps quickly coming towards him. toji. and then his gramps following close behind him.

“ryomen,” toji says immediately, breath uneven like he rushed there as fast as possible. “what happened?”

sukuna doesn’t answer. he just sits there, shoulders tense, brows pinched tight while his fingers curl harder against his palms. staring at the blood in the creases of his hands. then he mutters. quietly. low. “she killed him.”

toji’s expression shifts instantly. “what?”

“she killed him,” sukuna repeats, harsher this time, the words scraping out of his throat. “she killed him.”

sukuna barely notices the two men hovering around him. he keeps staring at the blood on his hands instead. his scraped knees. his football uniform still on.

sukuna genuinely can’t tell how many hours or minutes pass. the hospital waiting room grows quieter as the night drags on. his grandfather quietly rests his head back, while toji paces near the windows like he might punch straight through the glass. and then finally, the doors open again, a doctor walks out. everyone freezes immediately. and sukuna doesn’t need to hear the words, before the doctor even speaks.

he’s dead.

and it’s her fault.

the hard yank on his hair snaps sukuna straight back into the present. music crashes through the field while people scream their heads off around them. yuuji sitting on top of sukuna’s shoulders has one hand gripping sukuna’s phone while the other fully tugs on his brothers hair to keep balance.

“GRAMPS DO YOU SEE HIM?!” yuuji screams into the phone loud enough to blow out the speaker.

gramps voice crackles back immediately. “you keep shaking the damn phone!” the camera angle violently jerks around. all yuuji can see is the top half of the old man’s forehead shoved way too close to the screen. “stay still!”

“OHHHHHHHHH!!!!” yuuji completely loses his mind the second choso steps up to the mic again.

the entire field erupts with him.

ino’s drums shake through the speakers while the guitars kick in harder, the stage lights flashing over choso and his band as they absolutely light up the crowd. even nanami cups his hands around his mouth to yell, whatever dignity he usually carries cracking under the sheer energy of the performance. gojo screams something incomprehensible beside him. geto laughs while shoving him. megumi claps from toji’s shoulders with far more enthusiasm than he’d ever show on a regular day.

and somehow yuuji’s excitement finally drags sukuna with it. the tension in his chest loosens for the first time all night as yuuji bursts into louder cheering.

the two brothers start yelling toward the stage together, voices getting swallowed by the music and chaos around them while choso stands under the lights. and sukuna’s resolve hits him that very moment too.

he’s not letting these two out of his sight.

the celebrations, surprisingly, continued through the night until all the performers were done.

sukuna and the boys watched in the audience as all the bands crowded onto the stage and the promoters stood in the middle with a list and began announcing the six bands that will be proceeding to the semi-finals in two weeks.

“DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTING!” yuuji starts the cheers, sitting back on sukuna’s shoulders. the rest quickly join, and as the four bands are announced, the chanting grows louder. the crowd joining, a universal want for choso’s band, death paintings, to be one of the semi-finalists.

“and the final band to make it into the semi finals is….” the host waits for the anticipation to simmer, but it’s not realized with how unbelievably loud the chanting has gotten for different bands, but the loudest being for— “DEATH PAINTINGS!!”

—

the culmination of celebration among the group extends to choso. him and his two friends are on cloud nine after the announcement, riding the adrenaline. somehow, choso manages to push everything else aside that almost swallowed the entire night.

people keep stopping him before he can even take three steps, congratulating the band, asking questions, slapping him on the back. toji leaves before everyone else, megumi staying behind with the group as security pushes the crowd out of the venue field and toward the beach nearby. bonfires burn in the distance and music continues from portable speakers.

everyone was distracted, except sukuna. his decision settled during the performance and by the time they return home, well after midnight, the house felt exhausted. choso’s friends immediately crash his room. megumi sleeping in yuuji’s room without complaint. doors shut, voices fading until silence settles over the house.

sukuna sits alone at the kitchen table. the only light comes from his laptop screen.

the black envelope sits beside it. opened.

a thick paper rests beneath his hand as he reads the letter again for what must be the hundredth time. an invitation. the one he’s waited to receive again for the past five years.

a la liga club. three weeks training with one of the best clubs in the world. three weeks that could change his entire future. the letter might as well weigh a hundred pounds. for weeks, sukuna pushed away replying, even when everyone brought it up. he had more pressing things at the front of his mind….

his eyes drift toward the hallway where his brothers sleep. a few months ago the answer would’ve been simple. obvious, even…but since kaori, everything’s changed.

his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.

Dear Recruitment Team,

Thank you for extending the invitation. I am honored by the opportunity and would like to formally accept.

But before finalizing travel arrangements, I would like to discuss one logistical matter. I am the primary caretaker of my two younger brothers and am responsible for their supervision and wellbeing during the summer. As a result, I will not be able to travel without them and would like to ask whether accommodations can be made for my brothers to accompany me during the three-week training period. Their presence would not interfere with my participation in training or any club obligations.

his eyes narrow, reading over the email. he isn’t asking, he already knows what he’s doing. if the club says yes, yuuji and choso are coming. end of discussion. if they don’t…then. his fingers flex, veins straining.

both outcomes will result in consequences. the first is choso, but after today, he doesn’t care if choso throws a fit, or if he gets called controlling or insane. he isn’t leaving them behind after tonight and remembering exactly how fast everything can disappear.

his fingers resume moving.

I understand this is an unusual request, but I wanted to address it before confirming. If necessary, I would be happy to discuss the situation further and provide any information you may need.

Thank you again for this opportunity. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Ryomen Sukuna Itadori

sukuna leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. for a moment, the silent churning deep in his chest twists… the lingering feeling that’s been pushed returning. a familiar one that’s ruled his life for years. bad things happen whether you’re ready or not. people leave whether you hold onto them or not. life keeps moving whether you’re scared of it or not. and if that’s true—

his gaze drops back to the laptop. the cursor hovers over the send button. the house remains completely silent. inside their rooms, his brothers sleep peacefully, completely unaware that their summer plans are about to change.

SEND

the email vanishes.

for several seconds he simply stares at the screen. then he reaches over, grabs the black envelope, and crushes it in his fist. three weeks in spain. suck it up.

—

the following two weeks went by with a breeze. aside from two separate incidents in two completely different places. one unraveled in the itadori household a few days after the battle of the bands tournament, and the second was in a certain hospital staircase that same day.

your jaw tenses. shoko quietly stands beside you, your hands tucked behind your backs. a resident stands across from you while an attending stands front and center. the staircase feels too small and you already know this isn’t about a patient, glancing at shoko beside you.

the attending, your father, removes his glasses, folding them in his hand. “you know why we’re having this conversation?”

you shift your weight, shoko glances at you. heat crawls up from the back of your neck. you finally respond with a small shrug. the resident cringes, your father doesn’t. “you asked shoko to ask a resident physician to prescribe medication to you.”

you swallow thickly biting your cheek. shoko opens her mouth, but your dad holds a hand up.

“I’ll give you a chance. I’m asking her to answer first.” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. which you do.

“i asked a question,” you clear your throat. “I was asking shoko to ask for me.”

“you put them in an inappropriate position,” he cuts, silencing you in seconds.

your chest tightens, heat spreading to your face now. the embarrassment sits heavy on your chest now. you see shoko try to raise her hand beside you again.

“can I—“ the attending finally turns his head to shoko. “we were just talking.” she clears her throat, “we both didn’t know what the policy was on—“

“the policy is your supervisors can’t prescribe you medication,” he snaps.

shoko nods, glancing at the resident, who’s supervising this summer’s undergrad students, including her and you. “yeah, I was told.”

you scratch your wrist awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to put anyone in an…inappropriate position.” you wet your lip, pushing the coil crawling up your throat. “it won’t happen again.”

he processes your apology. his eyes flick to the resident and shoko, dismissing them. shoko glances at you as she follows the resident out, the staircase door shutting behind her. the silence grows louder with just the two of you. you inhale sharply, your head falling back, hands covering your face.

“dad—“

“do you need a new prescription?”

“no,” you cut, hands shielding you from his gaze.

“then why did you ask? have you spoken to your doctor about this?”

“I’m not—“ you stop, taking a deep breath. “I don’t need another prescription. and I told you already I’ve been talking to my doctor. I was just asking a question— I was just stressed.”

“why? you’ve done all this before,” he cuts, brows furrowed, and arms crossed in confusion.

“I’m stressed about other stuff,” you exhale, hands falling, face still burning from the humiliation earlier.

“what other stuff?” he pushes. genuinely confused about what you could be worrying about. “you don’t have classes or exams. you know everything. if you have any questions you can ask me—“

“yeah, I’m worried about other stuff, like generally,” you huff, rubbing your face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“you’re not taking any medication now?” he changes the subject back, brushing off your concerns to push his own out, “jennie told me you weren’t when she visited.”

your teeth clench, rubbing your eye, “yeah, I don’t need it anymore. I haven’t had them since finals.”

his eyes narrow, you can see the concern pinching his brows. “I don’t have a problem if you still need to take them. you know that—“

“yeah, but I don’t need them,” your stomach curls tighter, especially when he glances over you like…like you’re causing him more stress. it’s confusing, you know tjat. saying you don’t need any more medication, but then asking a resident a question about whether they can give you some for stress. it doesn’t make sense, and at this point you’re getting frustrated with yourself. “it’s not a big deal. next time I just won’t ask anyone anything,” you mutter.

“we’re having a conversation, so don’t do that,” he shakes his head in disappointment. the pit in your stomach growing at the sight. “I want to understand why you asked.”

you stomach churns, “it’s fine.”

the silence stretches between you, then you finally decide to leave.

“you should go home,” he steps to block the door.

you barely blink, the comment rolling off your back as you hum. “great.”

your father exhales through his nose. “i’m serious.”

“i know.”

“you don’t sound like you know.”

your jaw tightens, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. “can i go now?” you ask.

he stares at you for another second before stepping aside. the staircase door swings open and you leave. your shoes slap against the floor as you move through the hallway. nurses pass, residents pass, families pass, and it all irritates you. you don’t even realize how fast you’re walking until another set of footsteps catches up beside you.

“hey.” you don’t look over. shoko keeps a quick pace beside you anyway. “hey.”

“what?” you stop.

the word comes out harsher than intended. shoko is unfazed, “i’m sorry.”

you glance at her. the two of you standing by the lockerroom. “for what?”

“for telling the resident.”

“yeah well you didn’t tell on me.”

“still.”

you put the code in before entering the locker room, shoko follows. “still what? i asked a question and apparently that’s illegal.”

“that’s not what i mean,” shoko sits on the bench as you take your backpack out.

you sigh, “i know what you meant.” you start changing. “it’s just annoying that I was scolded like that and I didn’t even wanna do this stupid ass program in the first place. no offense,” you start rambling. “but seriously, how many times does this make it—like the fifth freaking time I get yelled at in front of these residents and I haven’t even done anything that crazy. asking a question?! god forbid!” you throw your hands up in sarcastic defense. you scoff at the situation rolling your eyes.

“this whole thing is just a humiliation ritual of being a fucking doormat, and having every single person around me be the biggest ops ever—not you,” you put your shirt on, pulling your jeans up right after. “let’s bet how much shit I’m gonna get if I just mention to jennie how annoyed I am,” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what she’ll say. “if yOU doN’t LiKe it sO mUCh jusT qUiT,” you mimic her voice.

shoko, who has been quietly listening, stifles her own laugh. “why do you let her get under your skin?”

you deadpan. “she is the only person that can ragebait me until i wanna tear my hair out,” you’re basically clawing at your skin. “can’t even complain about anything anymore,” you mutter more to yourself. “whatever.”

shoko gives you a sympathetic look.

“call me when you finish, I’ll come pick you up,” you conclude, waiting for shoko’s hum before leaving.

and just a few miles away, another incident was unfolding in the itadori garage.

“what?” choso’s voice cuts through the room. “you’re lying.”

“you don’t want a free vacation?”

“it’s not a free anything! i’m not going to spain! the tournament—”

“yeah, the finals are the day before our flight, still lying—”

“i’m not lying! when we win we’re gonna be meeting with producers and stuff—”

“and stuff,” sukuna laughs. “you can zoom in.”

“that’s not the same thing!”

“sounds the same.”

“it literally isn’t!”

the garage erupts. the old fan rattles uselessly in the corner, guitar cables snake across the floor and choso stands in the middle, face red with frustration while sukuna lounges against the workbench like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week.

“i’m not missing opportunities because you’re going to spain!” choso shouts.

sukuna shrugs, “good thing i’m not asking.”

“you can’t do that!”

“watch me.”

“ryomen!”

“choso!”

the younger teen looks seconds away from committing a felony, his jaw tightens, anger bubbling dangerously, “you’re possessively controlling.”

“shocker,” sukuna replies lowly, checking his phone after it buzzes.

“you can’t just drag people across the world!”

“sure i can.”

“i’m sixteen!”

“exactly.”

choso makes a strangled noise just as the garage door suddenly slides open.

“hey, i brought—” ino freezes, a pizza box hangs from one hand. his eyes dart between the brothers. “…oh.”

“tell him he’s insane!” choso shouts, voice cracking and pointing at the tattooed brother lounged in the corner on his phone.

“tell him i’m right,” sukuna says at the same time with less effort as his younger brother.

ino slowly starts backing out. “nope.”

choso’s jaw clenches, “ino.”

ino shakes his head more, “no.”

“ino,” choso’s words strain.

“naaahhhh man.” the teen points at both of them, pizza box fumbling. “last time i got involved in your family drama i got interrogated by psycho satan.” he means sukuna.

“that’s dramatic,” sukuna snorts.

“you threatened me,” ino huffs.

“that’s different,” sukuna casually scratches his large tatted bicep, with an added shrug.

ino frowns, “how is that different?!”

suluna shrugs, while the younger teen throws his hands in the air, choso’s black hair is messy and pushed out of his face from how much he’s run his hands through it. “he accepted the offer!”

“what offer?” ino asks.

“the spain one,” choso frowns, and sukuna eyes dart up, not realizing how many people knew about this offer. ino blinks, lips parting and eyes lighting up.

“…spain spain?”

“yes, spain spain,” choso snaps.

“like beaches?”

“yes.”

“europe?”

“yes!”

“yoooooo,” ino is smiling wide now, stepping further into the garage. “that’s so cool!”

“dude—“ choso snaps.

ino cringes, but the smile doesn’t go away, “sorry, but like DAAAAANG, remember a couple years ago, we talked about it—duuude,” ino’s attention shifts to sukuna, smiling wide. “congrats!!”

“what—stop glazing him!” choso interrupts, and ino holds back his tongue, conflicted.

“cool but like yeah, no, that’s actually insane, why does choso needa go with you? not cool,” ino falls in line.

choso relaxes just a bit, “thank you.”

“but also…” ino hesitates, and choso’s eyes narrows immediately.

“don’t.”

ino puts the pizza on the table, shrugging, “i’m just saying—”

“ino.”

“i mean…spain is kinda sick,” he plays devils advocate. and sukuna barks out a laugh.

“ino!” choso looks ready to throw his guitar right at his best friend. “you never help, shit friend.”

“he’ll get over it,” sukuna says to ino, who feels slightly guilty, opening the box to take out a slice while it’s hot.

“i won’t!” choso shouts, putting his guitar down.

sukuna ignores him, “he will.”

“i won’t!”

“you always do.” the words come out too casual, and for half a second, the garage falls quiet. choso’s jaw tightens, and sukuna’s grin fades slightly, watching his younger brother’s expression shift, the anger burning hotter. the same anger claws at sukuna’s own chest remebering why he has to force choso to come with him.

“I’m staying with gramps,” choso’s voice is lower. his own brain trying to wrap around the sudden information. he hadn’t even known that his brother accepted the offer when he wouldn’t even talk to anyone about it. and to find out he accepted it and was told it’s okay for him to bring his brothers without even asking him?!

“gramps is going to the lake with his war buds like he does every summers so yeah, you’re not staying here alone.” sukuna tsks, standing up. he glares at choso across the garage, waiting for choso to test him. the tension suddenly hits ino full force. the bickering had turned into something charged in a matter of seconds. his chewing slows, awkwardly.

“I’ll stay with ino,” choso pushes, eyes darting between sukuna’s.

“this lying shit?” sukuna scoffs pointing at ino without glancing at him.

ino chokes, coughing, “me?!!”

sukuna frowns, eyes narrowing sharply, “I fucking asked you if he saw that bitch of mom and you said no. that constitutes as lying.”

ino lowers his head.

“I told him not to say anything,” choso defends, “he’s my friend.”

“exactly why you’re not staying with him because he’ll lie and I won’t know if you see that woman again or not.” sukuna takes a step towards his brother.

“i took money from her,” choso tilts his head, clearly not afraid of the older as his eyes narrow. “I’m gonna give her that money back.”

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t or if you take more money from her. she owes you and yuuji a shit ton of money anyways,” sukuna stops in front of choso. an unknown look crossing the man’s face, and choso hesitates for a moment. “I have a problem that she laid her hands on you.”

choso’s jaw clenches, stepping away. “I stole money from her.”

“so you think you deserve to get hit?” sukuna snaps. choso rolls his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza, forcing himself to act casual. “she’s a toxic psycho.”

“whatever, man,” choso mutters, dismissing the conversation about his mother. an uncomfortable twist settling deep in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. “I don’t wanna talk about her with you.”

“why because I don’t sugarcoat how horrible she is?” sukuna scoffs. choso’s defensive attitude quietly triggers the older. choso rolls his eyes again, gaze locked at the pizza, but sukuna catches it and ino sinks further in the corner. “stupid ass teen,” sukuna grabs his keys from his pocket, walking towards the door, opening the garage. “fucking proving my damn point by acting stupid as fuck.”

sukuna scoffs, pissing himself off as the memories of this woman flood his mind. jaw tensing as he looks at choso turning away from him. “mothers don’t beat their kids, and she was more of dad’s fucking mental patient than a mom to you”

“how the fuck would you know!” choso finally snaps. “your mom left and my mom isn’t yours, I have my own memories!”

“the ones when you were two?” sukuna scoffs, walking towards the parked pick-up truck. “I doubt you remember shit before you were twelve,” sukuna says the comment without realizing the flame he lit.

“I remember you going to jail too and losing your first club offer,” choso spits. “great example compared to her. definitely my role model!”

sukuna stops dead in his tracks, jaw tightening, he glances over his shoulder and choso doesn’t back down. “you’re more like her than me or yuuji are, so it’s pretty hypocritical that I’m being forced to go to spain with another psycho.”

mechamaru had just parked his car and is exiting when he hears the yelling from his friend’s open driveway. ino has attempted to blend in with the couch, empty plate in his lap while choso’s chest heaves. the strings in his heart strain ignoring the unfamiliar look on his brothers face. especially when sukuna fiddles with his keys with one hand, the jangling fills the tense air, before sukuna licks his teeth.

“at least I’ve never hit you guys.”

the response is deeply honest that choso pauses, unable to respond. sukuna swings his keys between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck and walking down the driveway. he passes mechamaru silently, unlocking his truck.

the teens are left in defending silence minutes after sukuna’s already driven away. ino and mechamaru exchange looks, especially when choso disappears into the house to wash his face.

at some point the houses thin out and the ocean appears. the clouds hang low and heavy overhead, turning the late afternoon gray. rain threatening to fall any minute. sukuna parks in an empty lot overlooking the beach and kills the engine. his hands are locked around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

you’re more like her than me or yuuji are.

his jaw aches. choso hadn’t even sounded afraid when he said it, he was angry enough to mean it. sukuna drags both hands over his face, wishing he can claw at everything. “fuck.”

the word disappears, waves crashing against the shore, ahead as his phone vibrates inside. and miles away, parked beside an empty field, you do the same.

the hospital sits somewhere behind you, and your home is in the opposite direction, and neither destination sounds appealing. the engine is off. the windows are cracked. summer wind drifts through the car as you stare at absolutely nothing. your father’s voice rings around your skull making you rest your head against the window. you don’t want to go home or go back or do anything.

eventually your phone lights up.

after another few minutes of staring at the ocean, his hand finally reaches for his phone. notifications flood the screen, group chats, soccer shit, gojo being annoying, something from toji, and his thumb scrolls through the usual unopened messages until he sees a certain contact.

his thumb stops. three days ago.

crybaby: where’s the video of your brother’s band?

his gaze lingers. for some reason, that message irritates him less than everything else. he opens the chat and for a moment he considers not responding, his thumb mindlessly scrolls through your earlier conversation, until the photo you sent him fills his screen.

dumbass: they made it to the semifinals

a beat passes..

dumbass: i forgot to send the video

your phone vibrates against the passenger seat making you glance down and see his name, and despite the day you’ve had, despite everything, your chest loosens just a little.

crybaby: woww

crybaby: a whole 3 days later

crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me

sukuna snorts. his head tips back against the seat. outside, thunder rumbles somewhere over the water.

dumbass: good guesser

you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.

crybaby: haha u’re soo funny

sukuna scrolls through his camera roll. easily finding the video gojo had taken and sending it to you. you heart the message, and a few minutes later the texts flood in.

crybaby: WHAAAA

crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD

dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass

crybaby: ngl…I wasn’t expecting much

dumbass: rude

crybaby: ONLY BC I’ve gone to a few in the past and RARELY r they ever good

crybaby: NO OFFENSE

dumbass: I’m offended

you don’t realize the smile on your face as you watch another video sukuna sends. relaxing back in your seat, jaw agape.

crybaby: no like actually wth — ur brother’s voice is making me tear up

crybaby: it’s so angelic esp for a hard rock band

sukuna snorts.

dumbass: crybaby

crybaby: did I say CRY? I said TEAR UP smh smhh

a few beats pass, not long enough for you to fully exit your messages, but long enough to watch the little typing bubble appear then disappear, and then your face fills your screen.

….incoming FaceTime from dumbass….

your lips part, cheeks warming as you easily click accept, the call connecting. sukuna’s face fills your screen, the camera angle is terrible, but somehow he still looks unfairly attractive.

the lighting inside the truck is dim from the storm clouds outside, shadows cutting across the sharp lines of his face. his pink hair looks soft, a few strands hang loose across his forehead. his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black shirt, the dark markings curling up the side of his neck. his forearm rests against the driver’s side window, broad shoulders, strong jaw—you hate how hot he looks.

on the other side of the call, sukuna feels much the same.

he expected your voice, but there’s something about seeing your face. your hair is slightly messy from your long day. you’re leaning sideways against the drivers seat, cheek pressed against the headrest of your car seat. golden evening light spills through the window in front of you, softening everything. you look tired, but pretty…really pretty. something in his chest loosens.

your eyes blink slowly, then narrow, “what happened to your face?”

sukuna’s brow furrows, “what?”

you lean closer to the camera, “your eye.”

his hand immediately comes up, glancing at the mirror in front of him. forgetting about the faint bruise caused by toji a few days ago, and barely noticeable to anyone except apparently you.

his fingers brush beneath it. “nothing.”

you stare and sukuna stares looks back at his phone, “that’s not nothing.”

“it’s nothing.”

“yeah definitely,” you sarcastically quip.

“it’s literally nothing.” your expression flattens. his matches yours instantly. neither of you budge. the silence stretches then—

“did you get punched?”

the offended look that flashes across his face almost makes you laugh. “the fuck kind of question is that?” he snaps.

you shrug fast, “it’s a valid question.”

“no it isn’t.”

“it is, since that’s what people who get punched in the face look like,” you say, like you’re some expert.

“speaking from experience?” he tosses, irritation scratching at your questions.

“yeah,” you lie, and he probably knows that, but still he leans back in his seat again. “it definitely looks like you got a bruise.”

“yeah, because i play a contact sport,” he huffs. you squint suspiciously as he rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. “gojo elbowed me in the middle of a game.”

“see?” you point triumphantly. “that wasn’t hard.”

sukuna tsks, “you’re annoying.”

“i was curious,” you shrug.

“it’s a bruise.”

“on your face.”

“you sound like yuuji.” the corner of his mouth twitches, barely there, but enough for the tightness in both of your chests to ease just a little. your lips part, still looking at the bruise.

“does it hurt?” your voice is softer, allowing something warm to settle in sukuna’s chest.

a smirk tugs on the players lips. “yeah. you gonna come make me feel better?” the teasing has your thighs clenching. his voice is low, deep, watching your eyes dart off screen. “where are you right now?”

you shift in your seat, flipping the camera to do a 360 of your surroundings. sukuna notices your bag in the passenger seat, “you get off work?”

“yup left early,” you flip the camera back, your phone on your lap as you fix your necklace in the mirror.

“you ditched?”

you laugh, “no,” you pick your phone back up, “I was kicked out.”

sukuna whistles. “bad girl. what’d you do?”

you shrug, leaning back in your seat, “I punched a patient.”

sukuna’s eyes blow wide, “you’re lying.”

you snort, “obviously,” you smile, pretty lips glossy as you wet them. “just had a chat with my dad and he told me to go home.”

“are you home?”

you shake your head, tilting just a bit as you watch sukuna through the phone. the silence fills both your environments. “doesn’t look like you’re home.”

“got work soon,” he answers, eyeing the curve of your jaw as you look out the window as if you weren’t parked in a deserted lot. still he can’t help the churning in his stomach as you fiddle with your earrings, lips parting again.

“so you gotta go soon?”

sukuna can’t fully read your emotions through a shitty phone screen, but he can catch the slight sweetness in your tone. and that was enough to pull a subtle smirk from him. he’s fully resting his back against his seat, arm propped on the open window holding his phone, while the other rests on his lap.

“I have some time,” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing a tad when you hum. “you have something in mind?”

you wet your lip, eyes twinkling as you nod your head. “yeah, i wanted to ask you a question.” he smirks, letting you continue. “how fast did you cum when i sent you that picture on saturday?” sukuna’s smile falters. “because you sent me a pic like three minutes later.”

you really love to push his buttons. the scowl is written all over his face. “i was already on edge, so i was doing it for awhile before you even sent it.”

your smile grows, if possible, a devilish twinkle in your eyes. “so i really helped you cum, ryo, hmm?” you wet your lip, and the action, coupled up with your sultry tone, has sukuna’s pants growing tight, “you made a big mess. cumming all over yourself like that,” you tsk, teasingly. “do you always make a big mess when you play by yourself?”

sukuna’s jaw tightens, his crotch swelling from your teasing. the bulge pushing up against his jeans, just as his palm digs against the evidence. unable to hide the fact that you’re turning him on.

“don’t be embarrassed, ry,” you coo with faux sweetness. “big boys make messes too.”

a loud, strangled scoff, escapes the man’s mouth. cheeks hot, as you continue degrading him. “suddenly y’er all confident because I can’t pin you down from here?”

you shrug, little smirk still playing on those pretty lips of yours. fuck, he misses having those lips on him. kissing you deeply, swallowing your whines and strangled moans. “am I not allowed to make you feel better?”

“fucking teasing me,” he grunts, jaw tightening as he palms his bulge.

heat pools between your legs, face warm as you see his shifting. “did I make you hard?” the excitement was obvious in your tone.

“don’t act surprised,” he mutters, flipping the camera to see the big bulge he’s gripping over his jeans. sukuna see’s the dizzy like look you have, lips parting.

“take it out.”

he smirks. you’re a little perv. and not so surprisingly, you see the uncoordinated moving as he unbuckles his belt, the phone dropping then getting raised again to see the way he pushes the waistband of his black Calvin’s, dragging it down. his dark pubes not as well groomed as it usually is, and that has you biting back a whimper.

fuck fuck, you miss pressing your face there, licking the coarse hairs, kissing his base.

and finally his hand wraps around the chubby length, freeing his semi-hard cock in his car. thunder cracks in the distant, rain starting to pour.

“gonna keep telling me what to do, or do you want closeups?” he teases, stroking his base lazily, biting his lip.

you shift in your seat.

“spit on it—“

you already see his spit fly and hit his flushed cock, immediately making your cheeks sting.

“c’mon, gotta keep talkin’ to me like my personal slut,” he hasn’t done anything since spitting on his cock, waiting for you to continue your directions. if you’re gonna act all dominant, then he’ll give you all the control…at least when you’re separated by a phone screen.

“stroke your cock…slow,” you command, wetting your lip as you watch him, and he listens. a wave of quiet confidence floods your head at his submission. “rub your slit with your thumb…yeah…” your lips part watching him stroke his cock. “faster.”

his breath is heavy behind the phone, grip tightening when he reaches the base, before twisting his hand back up, thumb collecting his pre and spreading it to the rest of his cock.

“do you usually jerk off like this?” your lewd curiosity always makes him smirk.

“I’m taking your direction.”

“jerk off like you usually do then…I wanna see,” you interrupt.

he snorts, loosening his jaw, before his pace picks up, tugging on his impressive size, collecting more pre and doing his best to self lubricate. his grunts are slightly louder, sending heat to your pussy, you can already feel your drenched panties.

“let go.”

a strangled noise comes out of him as his hand lets go making his cock bob between his legs, his thighs flex, jaw tightening as more pre cum leaks out in humiliation. “fuck.” he runs his hand on his abs, lifting his shirt higher, watching his own cock throb and twitch mid-air. the weight angling his cock down.

“ow!”

he doesn’t fully realize what you’re doing, until you yelp. his brows pinch, eyes narrowing because your phone is no longer on your face, but on the ceiling of your car.

“what’re you doing?” his words fall on deaf ears, when you’re suddenly lifting the camera back up, and revealing the state you’re in. you’re completely naked from the waist down, shirt pushed above those beautiful tits, and your lips all wet from how much your biting them. “fuck, baby.”

you smile, pushing the drivers seat further back to give yourself space, cheeks hot as you spread your legs. “lemme see your face, ryomen.”

he easily flips the camera back. you blush seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. “you like risky stuff,” he points.

“I’m alone.”

“still public.”

your lips part, rubbing your nipple, slowly teasing yourself. his eyes darken, gaze darting between your face and those beautiful perky nipples he wishes he could suck this very second. fuck, when you’d run your nails through his hair when he’d bite your perky buds and you’d moan so sweetly.

“you’re not even twisting them hard enough,” he tsks, watching you play with yourself…incorrectly. “how often do you touch yourself.”

“not as often as you touch me.”

sukuna chokes. you’re way too fast for him, and it catches him off guard every once in a awhile. he quickly recovers, “show me how wet you are.”

you listen, managing to face the passenger seat and have the phone propped on your bag.

“aw, you’re dripping,” he coos, biting his lip, as you run your fingers through the mess, spreading your pretty folds for him. “dirty girl,” he groans, hand sneaking down to his twitching hard cock—

“don’t touch yourself,” you cut possessively. “it’s my turn.”

“I didn’t even cum,” he tsks, but still eases back, thick legs spreading wider as he watches you shrug. “fine, lemme see how many fingers you can put in that little pussy.”

“one.”

“I said: let me see,” his voice drops an octave and that has you clenching and blushing all over. “lick your finger.”

you lean close to the camera, making a show of caressing your plump bottom lip, then easing your middle finger in. your suck the digit, eyes heavy as they look directly at sukuna. he silently watches, jaw loosening as he tries his best to keep his hand away, especially when you pull your middle finger out, flipping him off.

“cute,” he smirks, screenshotting. “put it in.” he tilts his head, humming as you sit back just a little. he eyes the way you open your legs, running your finger down your body, before circling your clit. your lips part and sukuna notices the way your back arches just a bit, finally pushing in, “theere we go.”

you hum along, jaw agape as you curl your finger in slowly pumping your finger. it’s not the same though. you hate having to do this shit yourself, it would kill the mood if sukuna wasn’t praising you on the other line.

“fuck, your pussy looks so pretty,” he groans, “so hot.”

you bite back a moan, lashes fluttering as you move your finger back to your clit. unaware of the disappointment until you hear a loud tsk.

“why’d you take your finger out?” sukuna barks.

you frown, still rubbing your clit, “It doesn’t feel as good.”

“bullshit,” he huffs, “put two fingers in.” your cheeks flush hot, collecting your arousal on your finger and teasing your hole again. “fuck your pussy like I told ya too.”

you wet your lips with attitude he can clearly read, especially when you add a sarcastic, “yes, sir.”

pre oozes from the brute’s twitching cock.

still, his eyes narrow with lust as he watches you dip your pretty little fingers in that tight hole. it’s always the initial stretch that has your lips parting. “keep moving your fingers. curl ‘em,” he husks, voice much lower and sexier, unbelievably turned on. “dirty girl fingerin’ herself in her car.”

you whine, back pressed against the door, as you angle your hips up, back arching as you continue fingering yourself, especially when you curl them and finally feel that spot. “got it?”

your glossy lips part, nodding, “y-yeah haah—ry-touch y’rself to me.“

fuck.

he doesn’t waste a second grabbing his cock and working himself up to the pace you’ve set. his own jaw clenches, watching your legs tremble as you pump your pretty fingers in and out, watching the way your fingers glisten every time you pull out, pretty nipples all hard and exposed, and lips glossy.

his thigh trembles, jaw tensing as he squeezes his base, holding himself back as you pull your fingers out to stimulate your neglected clit.

“good girl,” he husks under his breath, unaware of how much he enjoys watching you and getting jealous from nothing. you respond with a heavy sigh, tongue poking out as you feel yourself getting closer.

“gun- cum with me…ry-haah?”

he starts working his chubby cock, wishing to death he can feel the heat of your pussy against his swollen tip. “yeah, keep working those little fingers, make yourself cum.”

your whine pitches a little higher in the small car. thighs spreading wider as you stimulate your clit, oblivious to the low praises sukuna is muttering, feeling his heavy balls clench up. and just as your about to reach the edge, toes curling in your shoes, your phone tips over, hitting the ground just as sukuna hears you moan—

“anhh—“

“what the fuck!?”

you whine, back hitting the door as your legs close around your hand. lips parted as your chest rises with each heavy breath. you don’t even realize what happened until you hear your name being called, followed be another “where the fuck did you go?!”

your brows furrow, glancing at where your phone once was, then to its place on the floor of the passenger side. “oh.”

you move over the center, reaching down to lift your phone, and the moment your face comes to view, sukuna’s jaw tenses more.

“you came?”

your lips part sitting back in your seat. “yeah, I think i accidentally kicked my bag. did you cu—“

“no.” he cuts sharply. you suck your lips in to refrain from laughing. “cum again.”

your brows rise. “I can’t.”

sukuna barks out a humorless laugh. “I always make you cum more than once—“

“yeah, YOU—not ME. I don’t know how to overstimulate myself,” you reach for some tissues to clean yourself off camera. but sukuna groans loudly, cock throbbing as he works himself. “just imagine me cumming.”

his jaw locks, head tipping back so you can get a perfect shot of his sharp jaw. the silence stretches for a second before sukuna opens his mouth, refusing to look at his phone, missing the way your lips part, and face burns.

“talk into the phone then.”

your stomach flips with something you don’t want to name, especially when he tilts his head back clearly still working his monster of a cock that’s painfully red. “I’m close. speak.”

the command has you closing your thighs tighter, raising the phone to your lips, inhaling slowly, controlling the butterflies.

another beat passes before you finally begin.

“my fingers are so wet after cumming…” you dramatize a gentle sigh, “my pussy is so empty…I need your big fat cock filling my tight…little…pussy…ryo.”

“fuck,” sukuna’s jaw clenches harder, abs tightening as he aggressively twists his hand up his cock, thumb digging into his slit, much more aggressive than how you’d touch his cock, but he just needs to cum.

“can’t wait to see you, ryomen,” you exhale sweetly, adding a little pitched hum, “want you to use my pussy like it’s your pretty toy,” you blush at your own words, keeping it just a little over a whisper because if it was any louder than you might melt into the seat with embarrassment. but sukuna’s strained, low grunts, is reassuring. “fuck me until I can’t move, kiss me until I can’t breathe…you wanna kiss me right, pretty boy?” your cheeks sting viscously at the pet name that casually rolled off your tongue—

but then, a long deep groan comes from the back of the 6’4 footballer’s throat.

your entire body catches on fire, and a smile quietly tugs at the corners of your lips.

“you wanna kiss me that bad, baby?” you tease lightly, and even though sukuna refuses to reply, his strangled grunts, and sounds of his squelching cock being tugged, is enough reassurance to give you that final sentence that pushes him off the edge. “you also wanna stuff my pretty pussy right: wanna fill me with your thick…heavy cum, don’t you ryo?” you bite your lip the moment you hear the choke on the other end.

you quietly listen, pulling your phone to see that sukuna’s phone is forgotten in his lap. your finger playing at your lip, still smiling, waiting for sukuna to come down from his orgasm.

the man’s jaw is locked. head tipped back against the head rest. chest heaving. and face burning with a light shade of pink.

“you cum?” you break the silence, tone laced with something that twists in sukuna’s gut. the phone shifts, your face unable to stop your smile when you see his flushed face. your fingers still playing with your lips with faux innocence.

“yeah.” his clipped tone isn’t too harsh, but definitely shielding something else as he looks down at the mess. his jaw tenses seeing his cum covering his hand and splattered on the steering wheel. even if the phone is on his face, you can see the way his eyes are looking past it.

“you made a mess?”

he licks his teeth, eyes catching yours. “yeah.”

dang he’s cold. is he embarrassed? a warmth settles in your tummy at the thought. it’s hard to read him, but it’s even harder when it’s through the phone. either way, you shift around your car, putting your panties and pants back on and pulling your shirt down, fixing your bra. on the other end, sukuna is pulling his shirt off, and using it to clean the mess he made. jaw tensing every time your voice rings in his head again.

“who taught you how to talk like that?” he raises his hips pulling his pants back up, tucking his softening cock in.

your brow quirks lightly, “nobody lol,” you look back at your phone. “I was just going with the flow,” you smirk, head tilting just a bit that the man freezes, stomach flipping at the pretty sight on his phone and he instinctively just….*screenshot* “was I good?”

he makes a grumbling noise, then, “made me cum.”

“so, good?”

he rolls his eyes, “sure.” he ignores your smile as he finishes cleaning his mess. the buzzing of your phone interrupting. “you have to go?”

you hum, “yeah, gotta pick up shoko.” you text her that you’re on your way. sukuna looks back at his phone as he starts his car up, you do the same. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

and the second sukuna gives an affirmative hum, you hang up.

as the days pass. neither one of you found your stress levels steady. instead, you were tested again and again, more rejection emails coming in for writing and producing programs you applied too for the summer. and as was sukuna with his brother’s attitude, especially with this weird phase that’s caught his attention with yuuji.

“I thought you were seeing megumi tomorrow?” sukuna glances up from his spot behind the bar, stopping mid-wipe down to see yuuji slinging his backpack on.

“we’re going to the beach today to see them set up before the festival tomorrow,” yuuji mutters, pushing his overgrown hair off his forehead in quiet annoyance.

sukuna’s brows pinch tight, “thought we were gonna do that?”

yuuji shrugs already walking to the back of the bar, large open windows lining the back that overlooks the beach. megumi and nobara wait outside, chatting. “s’fine,” yuuji stops by the door, “choso doesn’t talk to you, and you’re always busy—so whatever.”

sukuna tenses, grip curling around the dirty rag as his little brother turns and leaves. what the fuck?? since when has yuuji been cut and dry with him!?

just as sukuna stresses about his younger siblings, you’re wondering how much longer you have to hold yourself back until you tear your eyes out. another rejection email, that could’ve been the reason why your sudden stress skyrockets and then it immediately crashes after higuruma finally texts you after not hearing anything from him since you first got his number.

[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: hey this is hiromi

[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: sorry it’s been awhile but my uncle finally got back to me, he’s free thursday or friday around the afternoon to chat

[12:35PM] hiromi higuruma: lmk which day works so he can put it in his calendar before he gets booked

your lips part, standing outside a patient room staring at your phone. shit. your heart pounds rapidly against your ribs. you work until five everyday. your jaw tenses…just ask if he can do anything after—he can’t. unlike you, people can’t just move things around for you. your fingers quickly tap your screen.

[12:40PM] you: hii

[12:40PM] you: yea friday works for me, would this be a zoom call or phone call?

you see the bubbles appear, then disappear. you shift your weight, stomach churning.

[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit

your stomach drops.

[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: I forgot—you’re not based in the city?

[12:42PM] you: no, I’m back home for the summer

[12:43PM] you: would it be a problem doing it on zoom?

your back leans against the wall, stomach aching as you wait for his response. seriously, can one thing not work out in your favor?

[12:44PM] hiromi hirguruma: I’ll talk to him, but I think it’s better to wait until you’re back in the city and do it in person

[12:44PM] hiromi higuruma: only saying this bc he forgets everyone he talks too on zoom but he’ll be much more helpful if he meets you face to face, plus you’re a good conversationalist (js from my perspective) so you’d leave a good impression

a beat passes.

[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: your call tho, i can still talk to him if u want

[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: he's here all summer, so whenever you're back js Imk and I can set up a meeting

fuck!! your jaw aches, clenching down hard enough to break your teeth. hot tears sting behind your eyes, threatening to spill. you inhale sharply. grinding down harder on your teeth as you squeeze your phone.

what’s the fucking point in meeting with him now if he’ll just forget about you?

[12:47PM] you: oh okay, yeah I think it’s better in person then

[12:47PM] you: I’ll be in the city in august, is that okay?

your heart twists unbelievably tight, nails digging into your palm.

[12:48PM] hiromi higuruma: yeah for sure! and dw I’ll set a meeting up with u and him

almost like he can sense your disappointment through your hesitant texts. he sends another message.

[12:49PM] hiromi higuruma: how’s your summer?

wrong question…

[12:49PM] you: 😀 so good!

the bubbles appear then disappear, then:

[12:50PM] hiromi higuruma: that’s a sarcastic emoji right?

you can’t control the quiet chuckle that slips out.

[12:50PM] you: loll yeah

[12:50PM] you: its fine…working here…with my dad…yayy

higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.

[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: u losing ur mind?

[12:51PM] you: nope

[12:51PM] you: y would u say that (I wanna kms)

[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: (rip) just a hunch, guess I was wrong

a smile threatens your face.

[12:52PM] hiromi higuruma: don’t stress tho, my uncle has some rlly good connects so he’ll help u out

you bite your cheek, pushing down the anxious twists that’s been eating at you for months. you’re still waiting on another possible opportunity for the second half of summer, but now you’re scared if that falls through, all you’ll have is nanami’s friend’s uncle as a connection..

[12:52PM] you: thanks🥹🙏

[12:53PM] hiromi higuruma: how long is ur program?

[12:53PM] you: till the last week of july so js two-ish more weeksss

[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch

[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: u need a vacation after

[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT

[12:54PM] you: it is in the works🫡 my friends r planning it

[12:55PM] hiromi higuruma: where r u guys going?

you pause, lips parting.

[12:56PM] you: oh….i forgot

[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?

[12:56PM] you: no frrr shoko just told me to block off the dates but i actually forgot where we’re going bc they were planning it for awhile and i was too busy to pay attention

you cringe, trying to remember where shoko said satoru’s infamous mediterranean summer house is. either way higuruma responds with a cool message, unbothered by your lack of remembrance.

[12:57] hiromi higuruma: well it’s clear u need that vacation then

[12:57PM] you: 😪✊

you don’t realize you’ve basically been standing on your phone for awhile until a resident passes by, eyes flicking down.

“put the phone away before I tell your dad,” he mutters, and though the “joke” has been tossed around multiple times by the residents who know exactly what your relationship is with the chief of surgery, it doesn’t make it any funnier when you heard it the first time or the hundredth time —

your jaw tenses, glancing at your phone to see higuruma’s text.

[12:58PM] hiromi higuruma: make sure to stop in the city after tho and text me ahead of time

[12:58PM] you: i willlll

you shut your phone off, exhaling sharply as your head tips back. at this point…the only thing you’re looking forward to now is this trip. considering the second half of your summer is delayed after pushing this meeting back. and from the looks of it…you highly doubt you’re getting accepted into those writing programs.

“great,” you mutter to yourself.

your feet finally drag you away from the wall, and down the hall. unfortunately the pressure on your chest doesn’t leave, instead your mind quietly moves in circles as you continue the day’s work. unable to remove yourself completely from the stress of your future.

you smile at patients when they greet you. you laugh when shoko mutters something inappropriate under her breath. you still finish your notes, answer questions, make coffee runs, and remember to ask people how their weekends were. nothing is wrong enough for anyone to pull you aside and ask if you’re okay because you’re not falling apart. you’re just…tired. there’s a heaviness that sits beneath your ribs and makes everything feel harder than it should.

even when you check your phone during lunch. your conversation with higuruma sitting near the top of your messages. another month of waiting. another month of this feeling. you lock your phone just as someone calls your name, answering immediately.

it all keeps moving, dragging you along. the routine sucking you in. driving home as shoko talks from the passenger seat about the residents. about a movie she wants to watch. about a patient that yelled at her. about her not fully confident about her mcat studying methods. you nod and laugh, chiming in.

that’s how it goes in the mornings. driving at six am, music playing softly through the speakers. your eyes randomly burning behind your sunglasses, making you blink, unable to stop the tears from gathering for no apparent reason other than you can shake this heaviness on your chest. but it’s easy to wipe beneath your eyes during the red light. shoko doesn’t notice.

even at home, your sister asks how your day is, if you ate, how dad is, and you answer shortly without much thought. jennie watches you for a moment longer. her eyes lingering, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something before deciding against it. especially when you quietly play with yazzy now. playing with her barbie’s clothes in silence, clearly not fully present, but still able to pull a smile for your niece.

“fix her hair now!” yazzy shoves another barbie in your hand, the gum stuck to the ends making you scowl.

“why is there candy all over them?” you lightly scold, making yazzy cover her face with a doll, bashful and guilty.

“it was an accident!” she giggles, making you tsk lightly, giving her a faux disappointed look which earns you another loud giggle from her.

jennie quietly watches from the living room, eyes softening. she’s been gone for some time, but her concerns are present, so when shoko walks into the kitchen, her attention shifts momentarily.

“question,” jennie glances at the brunette. shoko hums, looking over her shoulder from the fridge. “how upset is she? because she’s working with our dad?”

shoko glances at you in the living room, the tv playing masking the conversation in the kitchen. “she hates it.”

jennie hums, looking down at her nails. “she said that?”

shoko nods, “she takes it on the chin though, but yeah…she hates it. she usually complains then feels guilty for complaining.”

that seems to twist something inside jennie, her jaw clenching. “yeah…she’s an idiot.” she mutters, hand rubbing her face. “there’s only so much you can tell her and she still won’t listen.” jennie stands straight. “it’s her life.”

shoko doesn’t respond. instead watching as jennie calls her daughter to head back to the hotel, and once they leave the house quiets, and you’re left alone with yourself.

you brush your teeth while staring into the bathroom mirror, foam gathering at the corners of your mouth as your reflection stares back. the faucet runs as you tilt your head. you look the same…same face, eyes, person — there’s no visible proof that anything is changing beneath your skin. but…you wonder if everyone else feels this way. is everyone secretly mourning versions of themselves they haven’t even become yet. are they walking around pretending everything is okay too? do they also hate where the direction of their lives are heading? can they even see what path they’ve taken—

you spit into the sink, washing your face.

once you crawl into bed, your room finally settles, feeling the darkness press close. and once again, your chest tightens. you think about the mcats. about the future. about all the people your age collecting internships and recommendations and certainty. you think about your father’s anxieties of your future. your mother’s concern. jennie’s harsh words—

you turn onto your side…then your back…then your other side. then…your eyes sting.

the tears build on their own, as they always do. your throat drying as you feel the warm liquid slide onto the pillow. you’re not sobbing. you don’t even know what you’re crying over. nothings happened. but eventually, sleep takes you.

“are you excited for college?” “what are you majoring in?” “you’re going to be a doctor, right?” “isn’t your dad a really good surgeon? my dad wants me to go into med school, but i don’t think i have the patience.”

the high school girls are packed into the locker room before gym, voices bouncing off metal lockers and tiled floors. someone’s trying to braid their ponytail in the mirror. another girl is complaining about wanting to get out of this gym period.

“wait, did they release decisions yet?”

“can your dad help me out when i’m looking for an internship?”

“yeah, you always work for your dad, so it’s not fair.”

“i’m jealous.”

your seventeen year old brain can only laugh, “it’s not like that,” you say automatically. but your friends only seem to double down. marking all your “wins” on one person who isn’t you.

“must be nice having your whole life figured out.”

the pressure in your chest tightens. you blink. you’ve heard these conversations a hundred times, so you should be used to them by now. but something tight twists in your chest. your fingers fumble with the combination lock on your gym locker. the metal slipping beneath your hands.

“you okay?”

“yeah,” your voice comes out too fast. you try again. however, it becomes harder to breathe, your vision blurring around the edges.

“shit!” your friend moves back just as you hit the lockers, falling to your knees as you grab your chest. is this a heart attack? people have heart attacks. can a high schooler have one? your dad would know—

“i can’t breathe.” the words tear out of your throat. your heart pounds harder, your fingers feel tingly and your head lightheaded.

“i can’t breathe.” you try again. nothing is coming out. air won’t come in. your hands shake violently, chest twisting.

“someone get the nurse!”

“she’s crying—”

you don’t feel the tears spill down your face before you even realize you’re crying. your chest hurts, your head spins, and the girls crowd around you.

—

the week leading up to the trip moved strangely, it was slow. the days blurred together as each individual hour stretched.

sukuna picked up more shifts at the bar, the smell of beer and musk clinging to his clothes long after he got home. when he wasn’t working, he was on the field by the beach, shirt sticking to his back beneath the summer sun as he played against whoever was willing to challenge him. usually it was gojo and geto. sometimes yuuji joined him, always laughing, but sukuna could feel the subtle shift. the kid lingered less…asked fewer questions, and as close as he is with gramps, even he wasn’t telling wasuke the full answer. and that was starting to make sukuna a little on edge.

then there was choso. it was inevitable after their argument. choso went out of his way to avoid his older brother and buried himself in rehearsals for the upcoming semifinals, spending more nights at ino’s, then with yuuji or gramps.

meanwhile, you’ve settled deeper into a routine. the hospital shifts, and early mornings that made you want to claw your eyes out. the drives with shoko that always eased you a bit. but then there was the wedding that jennie came for. and every aunt and family friend had something to ask. was there anyone special? were you talking to someone? how is it going into your senior year of undergrad? had you started studying for the mcat? have you taken the mcat yet?

your mother brushed them off, while your sister laughed because dating felt like the last thing on your mind. you smiled through it all, even as your stomach twisted tighter with every question you couldn’t answer honestly.

and then there was your father. he’d become quieter after the incident in the staircase, polite but distant in a way that unsettled you more. is he disappointed you aren’t taking the mcat yet? did one of the residents say something about your performance? you don’t ask. you just keep the questions with you, swirling in your mind whenever you see him.

none of the stress eases. not even when you quietly see sukuna in gojo’s ig stories. not even when yazzy tries to teach you and shoko a new dance move she’s learning. not even when your sister finally heads to the airport. none of it seemed to scratch that itch that kept your mind loud and irritating.

“did you get any sleep?” shoko pulls her shirt off, slipping into her scrubs. you stifle a yawn, shaking your head as you pull your scrub pants up. shoko yawns along with you, but exhales loudly afterwards. shaking her hands as she gives you smile. “last day though!”

your lips part, eyes widening, “oh snap.” and maybe that was what you needed because you’re suddenly smiling with shoko, laughing as you look at your phone. “last day!”

shoko hums, smiling wider as you both start dancing. and that definitely could be considered the longest, and best day of your week. and before you can blink, you’ve packed your suitcases and kissed your mom goodbye as she drops you and shoko off at the airport.

and with full unbridled honesty, you knew the best part of this trip was the excuse of being away from everything and everyone, and that’s what you’ve convinced yourself is what you need.

even after hours trapped in a middle seat, struggling to fall asleep, awkwardly folding yourself away from the men occupying both armrests beside you, you endure it. by the time the plane lands, your eyes burn with exhaustion and dark circles sit beneath them. the warm air greets you outside carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen.

you and shoko collect your luggage in a daze, exchanging tired glances until your attention catches on a sharply dressed man near the exit, holding a sign with both your names.

and that’s when your oasis begins.

the drive stretches along the coastline, blue water glittering beneath the afternoon sun. the mediterranean houses blur past the windows. shoko rests her cheek against her fist while you stare outside, feeling something inside your chest tighten again. what’re you even taking a vacation for?

you turn the corner into the neighborhood and your jaw drops. a villa sits at the end of the hillside like something straight out of a movie, and beyond the property is the ocean stretching endlessly, waves crashing.

“…you’re kidding,” you breathe.

shoko lets out a low whistle, stepping out of the car, “i forgot how disgustingly rich he is.”

the front doors slide open before either of you can fully process the sight, grabbing your suitcases.

“well, well, well!”

of course, the first thing you see is satoru gojo. he stands at the entrance wearing nothing but black swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his white hair, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming royalty into his kingdom. his skin is slightly tanned, abs glistening, and veins crawling up his forearms.

“took you guys long enough,” he announces obnoxiously. “i’ve been suffering all alone.”

“you’ve been posting pool pictures for three days with everyone,” shoko deadpans.

“but we’re still missing people,” gojo rebuts.

shoko laughs despite herself, stepping forward to wrap him in a quick hug. gojo squeezes her dramatically before turning his full attention toward you, who’s still dragging your suitcase across the polished floors, gaze darting between the towering ceilings, the sweeping staircase, and the ocean visible through the open living room.

“…what the hell,” you murmur. “this is insane.”

gojo’s grin somehow widens, “i know.”

you finally look at him properly, “thanks for letting me join,” you say, sincerity slipping into your voice before you can stop it. “seriously.”

for a brief moment, he looks genuinely touched, then— “well, it’s the least i can do,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “i’ll just need significantly more praise from you and sho for being such a generous, handsome host—”

“sure,” you cut him off easily, making him pout. but you finally step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a greeting hug anyway. “thank you, satoru.”

the complaint dies in his throat. “you’re welcome,” he says quickly but sounding almost suspicious of your sincerity before recovering instantly. “see? this is why you’re my favorite guest.”

“sure,” you sarcastically hum. “I’m just guessing you say that to everyone.”

“i do not.”

“you literally called utahime your favorite yesterday on facetime,” shoko points out.

“that was an obvious lie,” gojo shrugs.

“you definitely told geto he was your favorite,” shoko adds quickly.

gojo points, “he’s my favorite best friend.”

you glance between them, exhausted laughter bubbling out of you despite the lingering ache behind your eyes. sunlight pouring through the windows.

your suitcase stands forgotten by the doorway. somewhere outside, waves crash against the shore. and as gojo continues arguing with shoko about favoritism while leading you deeper into the villa. more people start coming into view.

“ahhh!! finally!!” a familiar voice booms, suddenly seeing a blur before you’re being engulfed in a hug by utahime. “it’s been hell with just these guys!”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why don’t you go ogle yuno, you perv—“

the harsh slap to his bare arm shuts him up, utahime glaring at him as she looks over her shoulder. luckily, yuno was still chatting loudly with nanami and some other guy you weren’t familiar with.

geto takes the attention as he steps in from the front door, sunglasses on and hair tied in bun. a smile immediately comes to his face when he spots more people. “it’s finally starting to feel like a vacation.”

you and shoko are taken upstairs. your suitcases bump softly against the polished tile floors as gojo launches into an overly detailed tour that neither of you retain, and something shoko’s already heard before.

but what you do manage to take in is how the villa becomes even more breathtaking the more you see of it. the arched doorways connecting the rooms, the patterned tiles lining the hallways, and carved wooden accents softening the stone walls. the villa held about eight bedrooms, and you and shoko barely process the number before finding yourselves in your room—or rather, your suite.

utahime’s presence is immediately obvious. her clothes are draped over the armchair near the balcony doors, makeup bag open across one of the dressers, bikinis and dresses laying on two of the beds, and several pairs of shoes already claimed near the closet.

“she really made herself at home,” shoko mutters.

you hum softly, too distracted by the room itself. two queen-sized beds sit beneath the exposed wooden beams, white linen curtains swaying every time the wind passes through the open balcony doors. the adjoining layout gives the three of you more than enough space, and the balcony utahime had apparently secured for the girls stretches across the back of the villa.

you wander to the open balcony before you can stop yourself, curious as to what the view is. warm air brushes against your dampened skin from the journey, but you’re immediately welcomed by the scent of salt and blooming flowers. below, you see the large pool, and then past the trees that circle the property, are terracotta rooftops of other villas, then the coastline in the distance. you can see the ocean glittering invitingly.

eventually, you peel yourself away making your way to the shower, washing away the hours of sticky travel air. the warm water loosens the knots in your shoulders, the steam clouding the mirror. by the time you emerge in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, toweling your hair dry, your body feels impossibly heavy.

the room is empty. you can hear shoko and the rest of the group outside from the open balcony. but all you can manage to do is walk across the tiled floor, barely managing to crawl onto the bed to turn of your phone alarm. your eyes struggling to stay open as you uncap your bottled water and swallow your scheduled pill. and once it goes down your throat, you toss the birth control pills back in your bag, and hit the warm sheets. you sink into the mattress with a relieved sigh.

the balcony doors remain open. the breeze filtering through the curtains. setting sun painting soft patterns across the tiled floor. and somewhere between one blink and the next, lulled by the sound of the ocean just beyond the villa walls, the exhaustion from everything finally catches up to you.

your eyes eventually drift shut.

unaware of what’s taking you so long, shoko and utahime go upstairs after an hour, freezing once they see you passed out.

“what the—“ utahime frowns. “we’re gonna go out to eat, wake up—“

utahime’s words die feeling shoko tug her out of the room.

“just let her sleep,” shoko cuts. “she’s been stressed for weeks, and i feel bad.” shoko’s voice is much softer, eyes down as utahime glances at her expression, then at the closed door.

“did something happen?” utahime’s brows are pinched.

shoko steps away from the door, shrugging, “I dunno,” a beat passes. “her sister just told me she doesn’t sleep well when she’s stressed, so just to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t drink too much if she’s still, like,” shoko tries to find the right words. “funky, I guess. so like…this is a good chance for her to catch up on her sleep and relax a bit.”

utahime nods, immediately. “for sure. I’ll keep an eye on her too then— and we can help her destress in these next two weeks!—“ utahime suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth after she basically shouted.

shoko chuckles, but hums along.

the two had the right idea leaving you to sleep. you knocked out for the rest of the day, and by the time you wake up, the sun is only a few minutes from rising. you were slightly confused, having slept for so long. groggy, you sit up and blink around the unfamiliar room. the pale morning light filters through the open balcony doors, the curtains shifting softly with the breeze. and once you see the two other people sleeping in the room, you realize where you are.

utahime is asleep beside you, laying on her side hugging her pillow. shoko is sprawled across the other queen bed like a starfish, blanket tangled around her legs.

and you simply sit there, still waking up, until your stomach starts growling. you rub your eye, reaching for your phone, happy someone had put it in the charger.

6:02 a.m.

“…damn” you mutter to yourself, you hadn’t eaten since the shitty airplane food. careful not to wake either of them, you slide out of bed and slip out of the room.

the villa is quiet in that way when everyone’s still asleep. it’s peaceful and calming. you notice a few abandoned glasses still sitting on the kitchen island from the night before. some half-finished bags of chips on the counter and couches. through the open doors, the warm morning air drifts inside carrying the scent of the ocean.

gojo’s pretty rich to not care that all the back doors are wide open, you think.

you rummage through the mediterranean style kitchen until you find bread, cold cuts, cheese, and enough ingredients to throw together a decent sandwich. then with a plate in hand, phone tucked beneath your arm, you wander outside. the backyard overlooking the hillside below, terracotta rooftops spilling toward the ocean in the distance. the pool reflects the pale pinks and oranges beginning to stretch across the sky. and you settle onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. your legs curl beneath you as you scroll mindlessly through your phone between bites of your sandwich.

it’s nice and quiet, and your shoulders sink further into the chair, slowly beginning to force yourself into a vacation mindset. and because of that, you don’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps crossing the brown tiled floors.

what you suddenly hear, mid-scroll, is a heavy unexpectedly loud thud of a duffle bag hitting the ground startling the living hell out of you. your heart hitting your ribs.

“…what the fuck?!”

you yelp entire body jerking, nearly tumbling off the chair as your heart launches straight into your throat. you’re still holding your sandwich, immediately whipping around to see the perpetrator.

and standing in the middle of the living room. black soccer shorts hanging low on his hips, a loose black t-shirt stretching across his shoulders. a cap resting in one hand, headphones around his neck. suitcase standing beside him, and a worn-in duffle bag abandoned at his feet….is sukuna.

he looks like he just got off a flight, slightly sweaty, slightly irritated, slightly exhausted, and unbelievably attractive. his scowl is already in place from being startled by the scream, but then he pauses once he sees you.

his eyes drag over your messy sleep-tangled hair, oversized shirt, bare legs tucked awkwardly beneath you on the lounge chair, and the bite of your sandwich still sitting in your mouth as you slowly chew. the edge of his expression shifts, not quite a smile, but something softer than his scowl.

“…the fuck are you screaming for?” he asks.

you stare at him, chewing the rest of your sandwich that flew out when your screamed. he stares back.

“…you look a mess,” you finally say through your bite.

his gaze flickers over you once more. “i think you’re looking in a mirror,” he replies flatly.

and just like that, sitting barefoot beside the pool at six in the morning with food in your mouth and your heart still hammering against your ribs, you can’t explain the way your shoulders ease a bit.

“asshole,” you reply with no bite. sukuna hums, sliding his backpack off and dropping his cap, headphones, and phone on top of his duffle before walking towards you. you swallow the bite you’d been chewing just for sukuna to kneel on the ground beside you, inspecting your sandwich.

“what is that?”

you glance at it, then down at him, your cheeks warming in seconds. he’s so close. “turkey, cheese, olives—“

“olives?” his large hand wraps around your hand, holding the sandwich.

you raise a brow, “yeah, it’s good—wha!” your eyes blow wide when he suddenly takes an obnoxiously large bite out of your sandwich. “what the hell!” you shove his shoulder back, making him loose his balance and catch himself on his annoyingly big arm, but it was too late. he’s chewing your sandwich, as you frown. “you didn’t even ask.”

“y’ didn’t look like you’d give me a bite if I asked,” sukuna speaks with his mouth full.

you scowl, “obviously, it’s mine. you can make your own, tch.”

sukuna continues chewing, still sitting back on his arm, eyes heavy as he stares up at you from your spot on the lounge chair.

you frown right back at him. even half-awake, with travel exhaustion weighing down your limbs, your expression pinches in annoyance. your brows pull together, nose wrinkling slightly, and your grip tightens around your sandwich.

his gaze lingers, “your eyes are bloodshot,” he finally says. you blink at him. “did y’ get any sleep?”

you take another pointed bite before answering, glaring at him over the edge of your sandwich, “yeah, actually. i slept the second i got here and missed dinner,” you narrow your eyes. “which means the first thing i’ve eaten since yesterday is the sandwich you freaking stole.”

sukuna scoffs, “dramatic.”

“you took half of it!” you screech lowly.

“that’s not half.”

“you have no idea what half means.”

his eyes drift downward before returning to your face. you’re sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair, turning slightly away from him now as you continue eating, subtly trying to finish it before he tries to take another bite. which he probably would do, just seeing the way he’s eyeing it.

sukuna feels a quiet tug beneath his ribs. the morning sun finally stretches over the horizon, painting gold across the pool water and catching against your soft skin. you’re still grumbling under your breath as you chew.

“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter.

he pushes himself up a little straighter beside your chair, his calloused palm rests on your bare thigh. “one more bite?” he asks.

you let out a humorless laugh, “yeah, as if.”

he lifts a brow, squeezing your thigh, “c’mon I’m starving. the plane’s breakfast was ass.”

“make your own then,” you say through another mouthful, keeping your free hand against his shoulder to keep him at arm’s length. he glances down at it, then back up at you.

annoyance flickering across his face. “seriously?”

you glance between his eyes, swallowing and taking another bite, “yeah.”

“one more bite.”

“there’s barely any left though,” you whine, keeping his shoulder back as he tries to get closer. but he clicks his tongue before wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist, pulling your palm away from his shoulder with little effort.

“selfish,” he mutters.

you nearly choke. “selfish?” you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. “you’re tryna steal my breakfast.”

“whatever,” he scowls, still holding your wrist. “I’m hungry.”

“ryomen.”

“what?”

“make your own sandwich.”

he stares at you. you stare back. then, without warning, he reaches for your wrist that holds your sandwich, making you gasp loudly, using your legs now to keep your bodies apart. “don’t—“

your free hand wiggles in his grip while he leans over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as your horrified complaints echo through the otherwise peaceful sunrise. your body struggles as he takes control, easily manuring himself onto the lounge chair, your knee keeping him away, as the other squirms to move between your body, but hanging loosely around his torso.

“ryo pleasee,” your whine rings so clearly, he can’t contain the flip in his stomach. he stops.

your chest is rising and falling from the struggle, anxiously glancing at him, brows pinched expecting him to pull your wrist to his mouth, but he remains still. staring down at you. then at your lips. then back at your eyes.

and suddenly, your legs are loosening, heart beating against your ribs, and letting sukuna fit himself comfortably between your legs. his hand holding your free hand, carefully brushes beneath your jaw before settling against the side of your neck. it’s warm and familiar. the morning breeze lifts strands of your hair across your face, and for a second, neither of you move.

waves crash in the distance. birds calling out in the pale sky. sunlight spilling over the terrace, painting soft lines across the sharp planes of sukuna’s face. his eyes don’t leave yours, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warming a deep spot in your tummy.

“you good?” you whisper eventually, voice smaller than you intend.

his gaze flickers down again. your mouth, then back to your eyes. then groggy, and voice much deeper then before, he mutters… “been a minute.”

your stomach flips. wetting your lips unconsciously, and sukuna’s eyes sharpen at the movement, barely blinking before you feel his firm lips against yours.

the breath leaves his lungs in a quiet rush. there’s a desperation hidden beneath the steadiness he tries so hard to maintain. but his hand tightens ever so slightly where it rests against you.

your lips move in sync like muscle memory. it’s familiar and instinctive. your fingers drift upward, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck before settling against his scalp. he releases a gentle exhale against your mouth at the contact, making your pulse stumble. sukuna leans closer without realizing it, his broad shoulders block out the morning sun as he deepens the kiss. your lips part on instinct, welcoming his tongue.

you can’t explain the urge that grows inside you the longer you kiss. the make out feels unbelievably calming, his grip tight around the lounge chair above your head, his knees digging into the seat, and his tongue swallowing your moans that have his pulse stuttering. your nails scratch at his scalp, threading through the pink locks digging gently.

“you taste like my sandwich,” you murmur with a clipped tone, tongue kissing his as he hums.

“yeah, fuck if I care,” he so easily brushes off the attitude to kiss you again. there were only two bites of your sandwich left, but you still held on to it, even as sukuna skillfully traced your bottom lip with his tongue. his hips lowering just to press his semi-bulge right against your clothed cunt, and that was enough to note the way your breath catches.

he can’t put into words how much his body needed you. just seeing you when he first walked in after his shit flight had his chest twisting, and now, kissing you…he feels every second relieving the weight on his shoulders.

your nails scratch at his scalp, tugging gently just to have him pull away, his eyes watching the way you catch your breath. lips all pretty and wet from him. eyes slightly dazed as you stare up at him, face lit softly with a healthy glow that has him leaning down again. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your bottom lip, caressing your tongue as it meets again.

“you didn’t send me any more pics,” he mutters.

your cheeks flush, nails caressing his nape. “you didn’t ask for more.”

“it should be unspoken.”

you snort, leaning closer when he pulls away, “it’s not now.”

sukuna grumbles, jaw ticking for a moment until your lips find each other again, your legs wrap around his torso, letting him put his weight on top of you, unbothered by the plane’s air that still clings to him. “give me a bite of the sandwich,” he mutters, trailing his lips down to your neck. and even if it’s been weeks, he still finds your sweet spot in seconds, nipping at it. your breath catches in your pretty throat, whining shyly when he licks the spot again with his warm tongue.

“no,” you say, managing to take another bite, doing your best to chew it as fast as you can, even with the bread being so thick, sukuna catches your wrist again. your eyes widen, watching him move your hand to his open mouth, taking the last bite.

you groan with a mouth full, eyes harsh as they glare up at him. the two of you chewing all the while his hand finds its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin.

“is it too hard for you to make a sandwich?” you speak with your mouth full, swallowing bites but still chewing.

“yeah, it is,” he replies coolly.

your brow twitches in irritation. but you still can’t help the way your gaze lingers. it’s been almost two months, and somehow he looks exactly the same. however, his salmon hair has grown out just enough to brush against the nape of his neck, it’s slightly damp from the warm weather. his shoulders seem broader than you remember, his t-shirt stretching across his frame. his veins stand out beneath his sun-bronzed forearms, hands rough and familiar where they rest against the lounge chair and your bare waist.

even sitting there, lazy and half-awake from travel, there is something unfairly imposing about him. it’s all familiar, but it could be the distance apart that has you pointing out the sharp tattoos again, the intimidating size difference, and the quiet confidence of him, painfully aware of what his body does to you.

your eyes drift over the dark tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his beefy thighs crowding the edge of the chair when he shifts, solid beneath his worn soccer shorts. he’s inconveniently attractive, stealing your sandwich like a jerk, familiar arrogance seeping with each glance your way, and his typical scowl…but still, your fingers almost ache with the remembered habit of tracing his inked skin beneath your fingertips, wanting to hear the low huff he’d give you in response.

you don’t miss him…but you do miss this pull of wanting someone who always feels just out of reach, but still appears right in front of you when you need him most.

“good-fuckin’-sandwich,” he finally swallows, licking his lips. he leans down with little effort, and high confidence, pressing his lips to yours again. body moving on top of you, rolling his hips down just to hear your little hiccup, your hand suddenly presses against his shoulder, pushing. he barely moves, but he does pause, pulling away enough to keep his face hovering close. “what? you mad I took the last bite?”

you roll your eyes, ready to respond when your stomach suddenly pierces the air with a loud grumble.

the sound has the frat boy freezing, glancing down. your lips part, cheeks flaring, glancing away as sukuna sits up just a little. “you seriously didn’t eat anything?”

“I told you I haven’t eaten,” you tsk, cheeks inflamed from the sound, desperately trying to ignore the caresses of sukuna’s hand under your shirt, thumb brushing your torso, suddenly pushing the material of t-shirt higher revealing more of your torso.

the air grows awkwardly uncomfortable, neither of you saying a word, and him not responding has you growing slightly more aware of the position he has you in. you don’t want to address it, you seriously, strongly, want to ignore how he’d just made himself comfortable with touching you after being apart for weeks. but that sudden thought as you pushing yourself up.

your hand climbs up his chest, curling your fist around his collar. and with little resistance, you tug him towards you.

“I’ll make another sandwich,” you mutter, your pretty chest rising with each breath. “you can keep kissing me…” his eyes flick between yours, they’re heavy with either exhaustion, lust, or both, but then you whisper the precious words he’s been dreaming of hearing this close, with your warmth wrapping around him, and your scent making his head spin… “please, ryo.”

his lips twitch up, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close from under your shirt. then your heart skips a beat. his head tucks down to your shoulder, burying his face there, pulling you to his chest.

your lips part, cheeks burning hot as he hugs you closer. his fingers dig possessively around your waist, bicep flexing around.

the summer breeze wraps around you. heart beating aggressively against your chest. fingers twitching trapped between your bodies, his hot breath fans against your neck. seagulls fly above you, the sky clear as day. but none of it can be fully processed, not when sukuna is hugging you like it’s been years since you’ve seen each other.

“r—“ you stop yourself when a warm kiss is pressed against your neck. then another. his hand brushes up and down your warm torso, making you always aware of his presence. slowly trailing kisses up your neck, subtly inhaling more of your flowery scent.

his cheeks sting, and he feels the heat crawl up his neck as his bulge grows harder. but he doesn’t stop peppering your burning skin with wet kisses. he pays a certain spot with more attention, sucking just a bit harder, smiling subtly when he hears your cute hiccup-like-moan.

“y’know,” he mutters against your skin, sucking another light hickey on your pretty neck, barely noticeable. he doesn’t wait for you to respond, your fingers twitching at his waist, holding his shirt. “I’ve been thinking’ bout how you got naked in your car,” your cheeks sting as the memory resurfaces quickly. “and how you fingered this pussy ‘cause I asked ya too,” you don’t have to look at him to hear the devilish smile he’s sporting. “then you fucking knocked over the phone when you came.”

your lips part in a quiet gasp, “it was an accident—“

he tsks, “still.” you blush. “I wanted to see it.” his hand brushes higher, unbothered by how he’s pushing your shirt up, revealing your lower back to the warm air. your skin is just so soft under his rough palm, and you fit perfectly against him. “you’ve been teasing me.”

your eyes go wide, “me?!—haah—“

the moan has your face bursting into flames, his teeth sink into your neck. your hand finding its way to his bicep, nails digging in, as he licks the mark he leaves. his lips skim up your neck, warm breath fanning gently until your lips are parting to inhale the same air.

“yeah, you,” his eyes flick over your lips. “with that call, and the one before that, and your photo.” he wets his bottom lip, a sinister smirk exposing his sharp canines. and in that moment you feel like he’d swallow you whole any second. “and now you’re lounged out here waiting for me.”

that’s when a a loud scoff leaves your lips. cheeks aflame. “as if. I didn’t even know when you were coming. it’s a coincidence.”

a disbelieving hum resounds from his throat. “so you were camped out here in these little shorts,” he tugs the hem of your shorts. “and this shirt wearing nothing underneath, for who then?”

you raise a brow, amused by him, forearm casually resting on his shoulder as you look back at him. “would you believe me if I said it was for me?”

he clicks his tongue.

you hum, glancing away for entertainment, free hand coming up to your chin. sukuna sits still, surprisingly patient, almost like you both have all the time in the world. it was unnervingly attractive. but you still decide to tease him, amused by the thought so you say it.

“then it was for satoru.”

and the moment that name leaves your lips, the reaction is far from what you’ were expecting. sukuna’s once calm features shift into a sudden disgusted scowl. the expression catches you so off guard that you suddenly burst out laughing, right in his face.

“fuck outta my face,” he spits.

you laugh even louder, hand coming up to your mouth trying to control yourself. “what? you don’t believe me?”

your push has sukuna rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. “playin’ in my face.”

“pleaseeee,” you cackle, adjusting yourself higher, waving a hand in front of him. “I was—I meant to say it’s for suguru.”

you visibly see the twitch in his eye, and that has you laughing louder hitting his chest as your head falls back. “I’m DEAD, you’re actually killing me!!” your laughing is so loud it irks him how much you’re getting a kick out of his reaction. he also ignores how cute your stupid laugh is after not hearing for so long. “cmon, it’s no biggy, wearing this skimpy little thing for my suguru.”

“your suguru,” sukuna spits back, disgust laced in every word.

you nod, bitting your top lip as you hold in your laughter, even if your eyes are laughing. “it makes sense, since me and him are sharing a room.”

his body suddenly goes dead still. “you’re fucking with me.”

his tone has you laughing louder, unaware how much that bothered the footballer. “you don’t believe me?”

sukuna rolls his eyes, loosening his jaw as he exhales through his nose. “daamn, relax ryo.” you coo, hand coming up to squish his cheeks. “tough month? you can’t take my little jokes anymore?” your faux pout has him scowling immediately, but his cock jumps at the expression.

“ragebait,” he mutters. you softly snort, smile lighting up your face, then your pretty head tilts for him. so fucking pretty.

“aww, that wasn’t my intention,” you coo.

the lie has sukuna scoffing, eyes flickering between your insincere doe eyes, and it tickles an itch deep in his core. “I was just playing with you,” you playfully squish his cheeks again, watching the way his lips purse together. he’s so cute.

his hands rest on your waist, staring straight into your eyes, and he unknowingly allows you to mess with him. enough that a string tugs at his chest.

“you mad?” your lips part slightly when he doesn’t respond, your eyes still holding a playful spark in them.

“yeah.”

it was a detectable lie that has your pretty lips pulling into a smile you can’t control. “yeah?” you’ve seriously grown confident in your time apart, and it’s unbelievably attractive. “but I thought it was pretty funny. you can’t be mad about that, can you?”

your thumb brushes the morning shadow on his chin, the stubble beyond attractive. but sukuna is too busy clicking his tongue at you to notice the way you’re checking him out whilst pushing his buttons. “I can. do you see me laughing with ya?”

you purse your lips, smile spilling out wide. you shake your head, then you push yourself up. your pretty legs are loose around his hips, your fingers gently curling under his chin, wetting your bottom lip with a soft hum.

“I don’t,” your voice is low, sweet. his jaw tenses slightly, waiting for you to act, and surprisingly you catch it. and you start smiling again. “you’re so patient, ryo.”

his breath catches, covering it with a loud, offended scoff. “maybe finish your sentences,” he snaps. “y’ keep fucking trailing off.”

you smile, leaning close to his face. breath warm against his lips. “I just answered you though,” you trail off again, purposefully. your lips hover over his, slowing your breath, lashes fluttering like a subtle seductress. and it works. he leans closer, wanting your warmth to encompass him even more. his cheeks a stained dark pink as you exhale softly. “you just like listening to me…don’t you?”

your smile is unbelievably beautiful, but his remains still, glaring at you through his dark lashes. his thick brow quirks. “i don’t remember ya being this cocky,” he mutters and there isn’t much heat behind the insult.

your smile only widens, “I didn’t realize how easy you make it,” you coo softly.

his brow twitches, “don’t flatter yourself.”

“mm.” your fingers drift along the collar of his shirt, eyeing the tattoos that peak, then meeting his crimson gaze again. “too late.”

the morning breeze curls around the two of you, the scent of salt and sunscreen drifts through the quiet villa. the pool glitters behind him and still, neither of you moves away.

his eyes drag over your expression, lingering on the curve of your smile and the amusement brightening your face. he’d spent weeks listening to your voice through a phone speaker, catching glimpses of you through photos and stories, and now that you’re here, he finds himself unable to take his hands off you.

you tilt your head. “what?” you ask, trying and failing to sound innocent.

“you’re annoying,” he cuts.

“but…” you lean closer, your lips brushing his, and he barely reacts. “you haven’t asked me to stop.”

something shifts behind his eyes. the confidence in your expression flickers for half a second, replaced by something softer, and something he sure as shit brushes away. but the teasing quiets just enough for his stomach to twist.

“tell me ryo,” you murmur quietly, voice just above a whisper. the sweetness drips into his ear like honey. his cock straining in his shorts, unable to control his body’s reaction to you. “you like being teased…right?”

his mouth twitches. “you fucking with me again?”

you slowly shake your head, staring into his eyes, twirling his hair around your finger. “you can tell me,” you tug at his hair lightly. “I don’t judge.”

he’s leaking for sure. the clear outline of his cock would be embarrassing if he wasn’t packing. and even with how obviously turned on he is, how flushed his ears are, and how blown his pupils have gotten. he still manages to hold his composure, and bite back a shit eating grin.

“cute,” his arm tightens around your waist, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. his bulge is pressing directly onto your shorts, and his sharp canines almost make him look animalistic. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”

you hum, dragging the sound in faux innocence, lashes batting up at him, almost making him release a pathetic noise. “what am doing? I thought I was creating a safe space for you,” you coo.

“don’t play dumb.”

you shrug, face still close, and fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, the other squeezing his bicep. “I’m not.“

and once your eyes glance over the scowl that flickers across his face, your unable to control your reaction. you laugh softly against the small space separating you, and the sound seems to snap whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to.

you make a startled sound against him, one that quickly melts into something softer when he kisses you harder than before. his brows knit together, expression caught between irritation and want.

he completely steals the breath from your lungs. all the teasing from the last several minutes dissolves into something far less careful. the laughter lingering on your lips disappears beneath the press of his mouth, your fingers tangling tighter in the ends of his hair as he forces his tongue to meet yours. and the moment your tongues make contact, a guttural groan comes from the back of his throat. the sound is muffled against your lips, but the way you feel the warmth pool between your legs is immediate.

he doesn’t care anymore. his mind has wrapped itself around you, the familiarity of your lips, the warmth of your body, and the soft edges of your aura, it all has him melting. and it doesn’t take long for him to press his fully erect cock right against your shorts. rutting.

a squeak escapes your pretty lips at the first roll of his hips. jaw falling agape at the stimulation. the sunrise paints everything gold around you, warm light spilling across the pool deck while the rest of the villa remains asleep. and as exhausted as sukuna is from his flight, he physically can’t stop his body from rutting into you like a dog in heat.

his tongue is thick and hot, slowly stroking your lips passionately until you’re meeting the wet muscle with your own. your whine is muffled, arms latched around his shoulders, as he hooks your leg over his arm, humping your clothed pussy.

“we should fuck,” he mutters between kisses, grinding even harder, stimulating his cock. “yeah?” his hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, kissing your bottom lip with haste. “everyone’s sleeping, I got a condom in my bag—“

a choked groan slips out of his throat when you tug his hair, his pupils twice their normal size. cheeks flushed a dark red, and his body unable to pull away from you. he doesn’t want to address how quickly you turn him on, or how much he craved your touch after being away from you for so long—no, none of it crosses the front of his mind when you’re under him, hands caressing his nape, lips glossy and swollen from kissing, and dark lashes batting up at him like you know everything. “you haven’t showered.”

he kisses down your neck, grinding slower, reminding you what he’s asking for. “I don’t smell that bad.” he unintentionally presses his face against your nape, inhaling. “fuck, but you smell so fucking good.”

your lips part momentarily, cheeks flushed. you feel him kiss the warm skin of your neck. he trails back to your lips, hand wrapping gently around your neck, tilting your chin up with a thumb, kissing you deeper, if possible.

it was a scene. and it was one that gojo was waking up to. his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, white hair sticking in every direction, as he wanders down the staircase in nothing but a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. one hand disappears beneath the hem of his shirt as he scratches absentmindedly at his chest, the other reaching automatically for the carton of orange juice waiting in the fridge.

the villa is quiet. the open screens let the morning breeze drift through the house, sunlight spilling across the floors and stretched toward the living room, where a duffle bag and suitcase had been abandoned carelessly near the entrance. gojo blinks, his gaze moves from the luggage to the open patio doors, then stops. “…oh.”

outside, beneath the morning blue sky, was a certain someone hidden behind one of the lounge chairs overlooking the pool, and sukuna was right on top of her. the two of you were obviously making out, his head bent toward yours, your hand buried somewhere near the ends of his pink hair, his broad shoulders blocking part of your frame from view, and his lower body was rocking against yours.

gojo stared, lifting the orange juice to his mouth, then lowering it. “…they’re still not dating,” he murmured to absolutely no one.

“what are you doing?” nanami’s voice breaks through the silence making gojo glance over briefly. fresh out of bed himself, nanami is halfway through pulling a shirt over his head, pajama pants slung low against his waist, catching a brief sight of his dark blonde happy trail, as he walks into the kitchen, following gojo’s line of sight. his steps slowed. “oh.”

gojo points toward the patio, “they’re not dating.”

nanami yawns, moving toward the fridge anyway.“i went to bed early,” he said. “did he get here last night?”

gojo shakes his head immediately, finally twisting the cap off the orange juice. “nope. he literally just got here. i got the notification from the security.” nanami pauses, glancing over his shoulder again, then toward the abandoned bags in the living room, then back outside.

“…they’re that comfortable with each other?” the question slips out before he can stop it.

gojo snorts, “or they’re just ridiculously attracted to each other,” he shrugs. “but they’re definitely not dating.”

nanami raises a brow thoughtfully. “did they not have sex with anyone else if they’re jumping each other like that now?” gojo tilts his head in genuine surprise. nanami’s eyes linger on the scene outside.

maybe it’s instinct or it the unmistakable feeling of being watched, because outside, sukuna’s gaze lifts. his sharp crimson eyes slide toward the villa without warning and land directly on the blue and honey-colored pair staring back at him from the kitchen. the silence stretches, until gojo slowly raises his carton of orange juice in greeting.

your brows quirk seeing sukuna’s suddenly pulling away and scowling over your shoulder. that’s when you decide to stick your head out, brows quirking at gojo and nanami both standing in the kitchen.

“didn’t mean to interrupt the streamy sesh,” gojo calls out casually, nanami glancing at him in annoyance. “you guys can continue.”

you snort, pressing a hand to sukuna’s chest, just for the hot head to sit back on his knees, glaring at his friends. “damn, but you kinda made me loose my appetite though,” you say stepping away from sukuna to stand up. his eyes follow you, jaw tightening as gojo cackles loudly from the house.

“whaaaat—but don’t you guys miss each other? I didn’t wanna ruin the reunion,” gojo lightly teases, unknowingly hitting a nerve as sukuna tsks, and you surprisingly raise a brow.

“you’re not ruining anything,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at sukuna who’s still sat on the lounge chair, hand over his bulge. “we were jus’ talking.”

gojo smirks, nodding sarcastically, “yeah, for sure. must’ve been the wind then.”

you sarcastically cringe, shrugging. “ah, must’ve been.” you don’t break a sweat as you walk further into the house passing by the boys as you make your way up the stairs, leaving them behind. and even with your heart beating erratically, and your face sweltering. you keep your composure until you’re out of sight.

as for sukuna…he remains seated, quiet, and unbelievably pissed off. nanami finds it slightly amusing, while gojo is snorting loudly. “that’s how much you wanna get in her pants—I just got the notification that you walked in and you’re already tryna fuck her—jeez.”

sukuna scowls, standing up. the irritation dripping from his being as he slips a hand into his shorts, tucking his erection up. “since when do you fucking cockblock me?” he snaps, walking into the house.

gojo’s hands fly up in defense, “you’re the ones that stopped. I was just drinkin’ my juice here.”

“he was watching,” nanami casually corrects, earning another shrug from gojo. sukuna clicks his tongue, and it prompts nanami to follow up with the only question swimming in his head. “are you guys dat—“

“no.”

the room falls silent.

sukuna picks up his duffle bag. his sharp eyes find the two men, and he utters his next words, with little thought, only wanting to end any further discussion on a subject he has little care to address with outsiders.

“we fuck. and I’m gonna fuck her again. and that’s my deal with her.”

his harsh tone is followed by a low whistle from the white haired man. and though sukuna walks away from them fully believing he put an end to whatever assumptions they insisted on making. because whatever existed between you and him has always been simple, physical, and convenient. except…

later that week, the simplicity shakes just a bit. when your arms lock around his torso, fingers twisting desperately into the back of his soaked shirt, refusing to let go. face pressed against his chest, eyes rimmed raw, breaths breaking apart into uneven pieces as your entire body trembles against him. the rain coming down harshly, drenching the quiet street and soaking through your skin and fabric.

and sukuna can only stare over your head into the empty street. his arms tighten around you without fully realizing what he’s doing it. his veins straining beneath his skin because you won’t stop shaking. your nails digging into him.

“don’t…” your voice is strained, the softness still shining through even in the state you’re in. “don’t push me away yet.”

his jaw clenches.

“please.”

a/n: watch you guys burn me alive after this. no joke, this shit was gonna be longer but I reached the line count limit on tumblr so I had to cut the scene short and add a sneak peak into next chapter.

Divinity unravelled into sin.

Sukuna's back throbbed in agony, a pained howl ripping through his throat as he continued to fall.

And fall.

And fall.

Wind lashed against his defiled body. The experts called this spectacle another shooting star, a meteor streaking its way through the night sky. Onlookers gasped in awe as he disappeared into the black horizon. They couldn't be further from the truth.

Sukuna kept falling — all the way until the taste of betrayal in his mouth turned into mud and dirt. He had crash landed into a forest in the death of night, a shell of what he once was. A crater had bloomed where he had landed, the forest ricocheting like shrapnel over him — yet Sukuna refused to succumb to the pain.

An unbridled rage gripped him as he lay there, twitching as the blood ran down his back.

How dare they?

He was made out of light, fire, and yet the heavens stripped him of his glory — all because he refused to submit to a lesser being made of clay. Sukuna's arrogance had resulted in him getting cast out, and to that he spat on the ground. What he had left was defiance as he pushed himself up, muscles rippling as his chest rose and fell shakily. His breath was ragged as his four red eyes scanned the dark surroundings.

Beneath him, the soil soaked in the red of his blood, the precious liquid having dripped out of his wounds where his wings should've been and down the curve of his spine. Dying alone here wasn't an option for Sukuna, however. He wasn't about to give the heavens a reason to rejoice. He wasn't about to prove their judgement of him as final.

That was why he grunted low, forcing himself to move despite the way his back screamed in protest. The effort was truly ugly — all the grace he had in his former body having evaporated out of him the second he was ousted.

Two of Sukuna's four palms skidded momentarily against the mud before he mustered up the energy to stand tall. He swayed once, then twice.

Sukuna did not fall.

Spite won over anything else, allowing the forest to part before him as he moved through it. The branches thwacked against Sukuna, until they gradually thinned and the stubborn roots began to lose their grip on the earth below. Moonlight washed over his body, baptising his nudity that he was so painfully aware of. He wasn't ashamed, not at all. Sukuna was irritated at this indignity bestowed upon him.

He pushed on, feeling the ground slope beneath his bare feet until the air grew clearer around him. It felt cooler, damp, and the odd sound of running water met Sukuna's ear. It was clear that the source came from a river now that he was face to face with it.

Water.

A pang of thirst hit him — something that he had never felt before his exile. Sukuna's body moved towards the source of life without thinking, until he had sank onto his knees and gulped until the liquid threatened to bubble back up. Only then did he rise once more, wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand.

When he scanned the area once more, nothing in particular stood out. But then Sukuna's eyes widened, trying to make out the shape in the darkness that resembled something akin to shelter squatting by the riverbed. A faint glow bled through what must've been the windowpanes. Above sat a chimney from which light smoke curled out in thin tendrils that dissolved into nothingness.

It wasn't anything grand by any means, but it was enough. It felt alive, something Sukuna wasn't accustomed to yet. He stared after it for longer than he meant to, his scarred skin tense and prickling with something he couldn't name.

Each step grew heavier than the last as Sukuna set his target on the hut. He was still bleeding, still clinging onto survival — shaking violently as defiance mixed with exhaustion. Yet he dragged himself on, all the way until his knees finally gave out from exhaustion.

The night went on, swallowing the pitiful fallen angel's body. His nails dug into the dirt, and just for one hopeful second, Sukuna thinks he could pull himself back up like he has done before.

But he couldn't.

His eyes shut, and consciousness flickered away. The very last thing Sukuna was aware of was a feminine hum followed by a sharp gasp, a figure looming in front of him as he passed out.

For the first time since Sukuna fell, he didn't rise — not for a while.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"Why I outta— ah. You're awake, it seems."

Was he?

Sukuna's head swam, nausea hitting him as consciousness came floating back in small fragments. He found himself unable to breathe, body shooting upwards as a terrible cough wracked his lungs. The scent invading his body was herbal, bitter and left him gasping for air as you watched — clearly unimpressed.

"You can stop that, y'know," you muttered, cracking open a window and letting daylight in. "My precious herbs aren't that bad."

When the worst of the dry heaving had subsided, Sukuna grimaced, looking down to see his upper body bandaged and lower half covered with a blanket of some sorts. He then raised his head, taking in the wooden beams of what was presumably your hut. Oddities were strewn around everywhere in the small space, cluttering your living area with metal trinkets and hanging ropes of garlic amongst other things.

And then he registers something soft underneath his hulking body — a narrow bed that was almost folding in half because of his weight. Honestly, it was a miracle to you that it was still intact.

Above all else, one realisation had hit Sukuna — you had touched him.

His gaze snapped at you as you stood a few steps away by a cluttered table packed to the brim with various bottles.

"Woah, what's with the look?"

Sukuna's jaw tightened, and then he tried speaking. He cleared his throat, testing out the words on his tongue.

"I assume that you were the one to have . . . moved me."

You swallowed, choosing not to lie. There was no need to — you two were the only ones there for miles around. "That I did."

"That is rather bold of you to touch something that was once of pure divinity," Sukuna pointed out, shifting so that he was seated upright. The searing pain in his back had gone, replaced by a deep but manageable ache that seemed to resonate inside of him.

"Whatever you were, that doesn't matter now," you pointed out, unaware of his circumstances. "You landed on my property, all bloody and battered and you probably should take it easy for a while."

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at you as he attempted to stand. Immediately, a hiss left his throat.

"Don't move like that, you'll tear something." Your voice was firm as you stepped closer without thinking. Above his shoulder, your hand hovered in uncertainty — had you upset the man?

Sukuna sat back down begrudgingly, slightly stung at the dismissal of his status. The bed creaked once more in protest, and you swore you heard wood splintering somewhere. The sound made you grimace, yet your voice took on a more gentle tone. Something was clearly wrong with whoever this man is, and something in you said that he was capable of far more than he let on.

"Well . . . you can stay here as long as you like. Just be careful, please. I made this furniture myself and it took quite a while."

That got a different sort of reaction out of Sukuna. His mouth twitched — barely.

"You house a fallen angel," he mused, looking up at you, "and your flimsy chairs are your main concern?"

Your eyes widened, the pieces of the puzzle slowly connecting together in your mind. Fallen angel? Well, that would have explained the two large gashes on his back. "Is that what you really are, Mr . . . ?"

"Sukuna, and yes. That I am."

You mumbled out your own name, suddenly falling quiet as you took in this new revelation. Sukuna cocked his head, studying you curiously. "Your silence intrigues me. Tell me — should you not be scared, little one?"

"Of what?"

"Of what I am."

You thought for a second. It wasn't like you were completely unafraid of what Sukuna was — finding him in such a vulnerable state was more than a sure sign that danger lurked not too far away. But if you thought deeper . . .

"I'm well acquainted with things that are out of the ordinary," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "A fallen angel is bound to be another addition to that."

"And what makes you so special?"

"I didn't say I was special," you blurted, trying to preserve your image. "I'm just a witch— or, well, a practising one."

Sukuna hummed low, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"That explains the wards you have hung around this hut."

He wasn't wrong — for the sake of your safety, you had cast a ward many moons ago to keep out any negative energy away from you. Sukuna wasn't at all surprised that he had bypassed that. You had let him in willingly, after all. Whether that was a good choice on your end, well, time would have to tell.

"I didn't know you could see them."

"I can see many things the human eye cannot," he replied simply.

And then your mouth ran faster than your mind could, a sceptical look shooting Sukuna's way. "Doesn't seem that way to me, considering the fact that you crashed face first into the ground."

Silence.

You grimaced — it appeared that your horribly timed attempt at a joke didn't land well. No pun intended.

But unexpectedly, a rush of air left Sukuna's nose. It was short and sharp, more out of disbelief than anything else. It even startled him, making him adjust the mildly amused look on his face into one of irritation.

"Your mouth runs carelessly, little one," he said.

"Seems as though I'm not the only careless one around here." You were really testing the waters now.

Sukuna stared at you, so you stared back.

Really stared.

You thought he would retaliate, but he didn't. An awkward cough from you filled the silence. Then, some shuffling as you moved in place.

"Anyway," you said, "I've tended to your back as you can see.

"I can indeed," Sukuna said flatly. "I'm not quite fond of the . . . smell."

Figures.

A sigh left you as he watched you wander off, the sound of clinking meeting his pierced ears. When you came back, bottles of various liquids occupied the space in your hands — ranging from the deepest yellows to creamy whites. "These are just some home remedies I used after washing your back. I'll need to apply these again when I change your bandages."

"And when will you be doing that?"

"Now. Because as you can see, you're bleeding through the old—"

"Absolutely not."

A pause.

"Absolutely yes," you argued. "You may be of higher power but that doesn't mean you're invincible to infection, especially now that you're on my turf."

Sukuna simmered in his seat, refusing to look your way.

"I suppose you'd like to reopen all your wounds then?"

. . .

That got him to turn, just enough for you to carefully roll the bloodied bandages off his torso. You could ignore the four arms for now as you set the bottles of ointment to the side, face to face with the large gashes running down Sukuna's shoulder blades. The skin had split, making you wince as you tried not to focus too much on the injuries in front of you.

As you worked, your mind raced yet again — what atrocities had he committed to be deserving of such treatment?"

A grunt dragged you out of your thoughts. The ointment was slippery between your fingers and Sukuna's wounds stung terribly so as you applied it onto his skin. "If you could handle that fall, you can handle this, Sukuna."

"That does not mean I want to," he bit back as curtly as he could. It was all too much for the fallen angel, having wound up in some witches hut and being tended to like a stray dog. But what could he do except take it? That was why Sukuna stayed in his seat, body tense as he chose to restrain himself.

"There we go, nice and calm," you squinted, drying your hands clean and fetching a fresh roll of gauze to wrap around Sukuna.

"I am choosing patience," Sukuna gritted out, lifting up his arms one by one as you manoeuvred around him. You nodded, making sure he was securely patched up whilst the river outside continued to splash against the bank. The world around you both continued to move, and the heavens above remained a silent witness to what was going on with their fallen angel.

Sukuna — the being who had sworn not to kneel to anyone, remained in his seat on top of the creaking bed beneath your wandering hands.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Sukuna was making better progress than you had initially expected. Time trudged on, creeping in through the small things — like the light beams across your wooden floorboards shifting across your rooms. The river outside, too. It ebbed and flowed with each pass of the moon.

His bandages needed changing less often, slowly but surely. With the passing of time and somewhere between medicinal care to boiling weeds, living with Sukuna felt like less of a pressing matter and more of a routine.

A much welcome one, too.

It was far from a miracle the way Sukuna healed, but he was able to ignore the faint burn of the muscles of his back as he followed you around your hut. The skin had closed unevenly, causing it to scar and raise. That was a better outcome than infection, at least.

Soon enough, Sukuna picked up on your habits. Being cooped up with you made that easy, but not once did Sukuna intend for that to happen. He noticed that you woke up at precisely 5 a.m without fail, shuffling in and out of the bedroom you had so kindly given him as you went about your day.

You also had the tendency to speak to inanimate objects, banging pots and pans out of frustration when your spell casting didn't go right. Sometimes, you'd even practise in front of him — the former angel sitting there unimpressed as you tried potion-making.

His mouth would twitch without fail, every damn time when a plume of smoke would erupt in your face.

There were things about Sukuna you noticed as well. First of all, he hated wearing shirts. It took a lot of bribery on your end for him to let you fashion up a pair of loose pants for him to wear so that you didn't accidentally see them again. By them, you meant his twin pair of cocks. The imagery made you shudder, and it was one you would like to forget.

To compromise, he wore the baggy pants in exchange for being allowed to walk around topless. It was more 'freeing' for his four arms, which you supposed made sense. He sported quite a few tattoos he would rather not have explained, but at least they were nice to look at.

You also noticed how he liked to push your limits — doing nothing when you tripped over thin air or snagged your clothes against a stray hook in your usual fashion. He'd sit there, face passive and wondering how it was possible for you to be this unintentionally clumsy.

Oh, and he'd also push his body beyond the limits of what was acceptable, sending you into a panic whenever he feigned a grimace on his face.

"Don't push it, Ryomen," you warned, brows knitted as Sukuna tried walking the length of your hut without having to use your walls for support. He managed, but that didn't mean you couldn't see the sway in his step.

He scoffed, turning his head to look at you. "I am merely standing, little witch."

"You look like you're about to bolt out of my front door," you shot back, waving your favourite wooden stick at the man. "Sit."

Sukuna sat down without even realising, and when the realisation did hit — it was already too late.

You scurried off to make food, feeling a pang of hunger hit you, and Sukuna was also the perfect test subject for new recipes. He stayed rooted to the spot, bristling as a pang of annoyance hit him. He stayed quiet, staring into the wall and pretending not to notice how obedient he was around you.

Sometimes, silence was something you learned Sukuna needed. He'd have his off days, where his shoulders would hunch and the searing pain in his back would bring back spiteful memories of what had got him cast out of heaven. You would listen to Sukuna shift around until you found him in the morning sleeping upright.

His gaze would drift off, latch onto nothing as something ugly and scornful swirled beneath the red.

You never pried, no matter how much you wanted to.

Sukuna knew you wanted to as well, but you knew your limits. Those dark periods would pass, much like the rain over your hut, and everything was okay again — momentarily, but it was enough.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"I just fixed that, Ryo," you complained, the nickname slipping out from between your lips like second nature. Perhaps it had been a couple of weeks since you had first begun to nurse Sukuna back to health. There had been no talks of sending him off elsewhere now that his condition had improved rapidly. Quite frankly, you didn't want him to go anywhere either. You told yourself he was quite good with the handiwork.

Except for now, that is.

A rake stood between you both, the wooden handle having splintered after Sukuna had taken it from your grasp. He had intended to rake up the leaves, but his grip was far too powerful. He patted the splinters off of his hand, staring down at the useless tool.

". . . I can fix it.

You let out a snort, shaking your head incredulously. "Not even my magic can turn that heap of firewood back into what it once was."

"Allow me to."

Sukuna's words made you cock a brow. "Do you really want to? I don't see any point—"

"This was my doing, so I will fix it," he said simply, as if he was telling you about his day. There wasn't any sort of challenge in his tone, which you could appreciate. It was simply just a matter of fact statement from Sukuna, to which you hesitated for only a second and nodded.

"Go ahead, then. But I'm putting you on time out if you break anything again."

Fair enough.

Sukuna was only gone momentarily as he returned with a branch. Without skipping a beat, he carefully fashioned a makeshift handle with his black nails and handed it to you before you could even process what he had done. You blinked then shifted out of neutral, wrenching the old splintered handle out of the rake and replacing it.

Lo and behold, it was completely functional.

"Well, would you look at that," you chuckled in disbelief, inspecting the rake from all angles. Sukuna reached out, intending to take the rake from you so that he could try out raking again — but then he stopped.

"Show me."

You gawked up at Sukuna, evidently startled.

"What do you mean 'show me'?"

"How you wish for me to rake your garden," he lifted up all four of his eyes off of the ground to meet yours, clarifying what he meant. "I do not wish to make the same mistake as before."

A smile broke out on your face then before you pursed your lips, not wanting to annoy the man. You demonstrated, opening your fist then closing it gently around the rake handle. Sukuna watched attentively before you handed the tool back to him. Your fingers brushed against his — and he went very, very still.

"Ah, ah. Gently. You don't need to flex your hand so hard."

Your fingers carefully adjusted his, until you could no longer see the wood threatening to bend under his grip again. Somewhere under your conscious, you noticed how Sukuna's breathing had deepened, but you were more focused on the way he mimicked your prior movements with utmost care.

The rake held in his grip.

"There you go! I told you not everything needs brute force."

Sukuna regarded the rake with thinly-veiled interest and turned his nose up. "Control, little witch," he murmured softly, "is incredibly difficult."

"Yes, but you're learning. Within time, you'll be able to handle anything with utmost care."

An odd look passed over Sukuna's face at that. He seemed almost pleased at your praise. That was why he went back to raking in silence as you supervised. His biceps flexed and relaxed with each almost reverent pull of his arms over the leaves. Something akin to affection settled in your chest, to which you swept away much like Sukuna was doing with the leaves.

When he had finished, he carefully propped the rake against the wall of your hut and turned in your direction.

"Is this acceptable?"

You nodded, quite pleased with how it had all turned out. "Of course. You did a great job, Ryo."

At the nickname, something in Sukuna stirred. He felt as if he had a purpose once more, and the feeling was addicting. A thoughtful yet dark look passed over his eyes before he turned his head away and nodded. "Then I will remember for next time," he said quietly.

He really did — having been caught by you several times testing out his grip on various items in your home. And each time without fail, your pulse picked up at the sight.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Church bells.

The sound was wrong in Sukuna's head.

It started off quiet at first — just a simple, distant toll that echoed all the way until the sound weaved its way through the forest. It hit your hut, making your head perk up one lazy morning whilst Sukuna picked berries off a nearby shrub. You frowned, trying to put a finger on what could possibly be going on.

"You hear that, right?"

Of course he did. How could he not?

The second ring of the bell resonated back into Sukuna, the sound too sharp as it pressed against his skull and branded him in a way that made his vision spark out at the edges. Before he knew it, Sukuna was shaking — his body having reacted before his mind could.

The air around him grew hot, until sweat beaded at his temple and rolled off in slick streams.

The third toll of the bell would prove to be Sukuna's unravelling, the ground under his feet cracking with a dry, splintering sound. His muscles spasmed painfully — causing a low snarl to claw its way out of his throat before he could swallow it back.

"Sukuna—?"

You were visibly startled at what was going on, looking at the increasingly hateful look on the former angel's face. The bell tolled once more, striking through flesh and bone and reigniting old pain on the scars on his back.

As if heaven itself was reminding him of his cursed status once more.

Your face paled, reminded of the wards that were around your hut. The air seemed to hold its breath, reacting to the unholy presence Sukuna was bleeding out onto your land.

"Sukuna," you called out firmer this time. Despite your common sense screaming at you not to approach him, you did. "What is that? What— are you okay?"

Before you could blink, he turned to face you. For the duration of a heartbeat, you could see something feral in Sukuna's eyes — something that was ancient and powerful and most likely forged from the depths of hell itself.

"Do not dare come close to me."

You flinched — wondering what on earth had come over you.

And then the bells rang again, the realisation hitting you like a bucket of cold water. In between your wards and what was most likely wedding bells, Sukuna fought the innate urge to kneel — pummelled by the weight of reminder of exile once more.

Sukuna didn't look at you when he spoke once more, his words landing heavily between you. He didn't speak out of anger this time — but out of finality.

"I should not have stayed this long around you. The heavens have noticed, and you are not safe with me."

You opened your mouth to speak, blood rushing to your head as you tried making sense of Sukuna's sudden collapse. Then, he cut you off.

"I should not have stayed this long," he repeated, getting off of his knees with his shoulders squared. You stared after him, in utter disbelief as he walked towards the forest and let it swallow him whole. And whilst the bell kept ringing in the distance, a sickening feeling bubbled up in your gut — making you follow shortly after.

Perhaps your inability to think rationally was the sole reason why you were able to follow Sukuna. He had made incredible progress, light almost invisible the deeper you went. But the claw marks on the bark of the trees served as your guide as the bell chimed once more. The sound may have been muffled now, but it was no less potent — dragging out noises so visceral from Sukuna's chest.

"Sukuna?" You called out, frustrated grunts leaving you as you nearly tripped over a tangle of branches.

Not once did Sukuna stop.

He was in your line of sight now, which had to count as something. It was a marvel that he was still moving, all the way up until he reached a crater in the ground.

Sukuna then staggered in his step. You almost slipped in mud, yet pushed on.

The man dropped onto one knee, exhaling sharply and wincing like it hurt for him to do so. Sukuna's nails tore through the dirt, like it'd anchor him — but to no avail.

This happened all whilst the bells echoed over and over, but this time? Sukuna openly let his body shake as you came closer yet again.

"Do not—," he croaked, cursing your stubbornness. "I am warning you again. Do not come any closer if you value your life."

You did slow, yes. But did you stop?

No.

"You can't even stand, Ryo," you stammered, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady. As always, Sukuna shook his head, attempting to hide his evident weakness.

"And since when has that ever been your concern?"

"Since you landed in front of my hut all those moons ago," you vented, throwing your hands up in the air. How ridiculous.

Another toll interrupted you, causing Sukuna to grind his teeth down until something in his jaw cracked. All four arms braced against the forest floor, back bowing almost violently. It hurt to watch.

"You do not understand. You will never understand," Sukuna snarled, teeth digging into his tongue. His anguish was evident, rendering you speechless in its intensity. "This-this darned sound. It kills me."

"So let it. I'll figure out the rest."

Your words, incredibly foolish, got his attention. He looked up, red eyes bloodshot as disbelief crossed the pained lines on his face.

"Stupid witch. You are nothing short of reckless."

"I know, but I'd rather you let me try something instead of trying to deal with it all alone."

Ring.

Whatever little control Sukuna had left had vanished into nothingness — causing his entire body to give out. You were positive he could hear your heart beating erratically in your chest as you cursed and tried dragging him to a nearby tree. It didn't work — Sukuna's body was nothing short of dead weight.

"Fuck—," you gritted out, choosing the second best option. You propped him up against you, letting him slump against your front — his forehead on your shoulder. A low sound left Sukuna then — broken and agonised.

"Sukuna," you whispered, not exactly expecting a response.

He didn't.

Without hesitation, you gently pressed your warm palms over Sukuna's ears after ridding them of any mud. He stiffened in your hold as you both sat there in the forest, taking in the way the sound of the bell dulled considerably — enough to give him some relief. What once was laboured breathing that rattled him to the core, turned into something uneven yet steady at long last.

"We can just stay here until the bell stops," you murmured, eyes honed in on Sukuna. For a long, heavy minute, he didn't move.

But then more of his weight shifted onto you. You grunted, deciding to just let him be. You didn't know how much time had passed, but when you finally were able to remove your hands?

Sukuna didn't move.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Days passed.

Sukuna was okay again, but there was one thing nagging in his mind. He brought it up one evening as you tapped away at one of the loose floorboards with a hammer.

"You have removed the wards," he mentioned casually.

. . .

"Yeah, of course," you said without looking up. The hammer continued to strike the nail, digging it further in place as Sukuna watched intently.

"And you did so knowing of what I'm capable of. What other dangers linger outside of your door."

Sukuna was right — by removing those very wards that had kept you safe for so long, you were inviting all sorts of dangers in. But none of that seemed to matter. Not anymore.

"Well, they hurt you," you shrugged, setting the hammer down once you were done. "I didn't want to keep something like that around."

Sukuna's eyes dropped to your hands, the same ones that took care of him without hesitation, without expecting anything back in return.

"You touched me back then," he continued. "I explicitly told you not to come near me, yet you did anyway."

You gnawed on your lower lip, shaking your head. Did he seriously expect you to just leave him there?

"You were in pain. What else did you want me to do?"

"That is no excuse, little witch," Sukuna pressed on — but there wasn't any ounce of hostility in his voice. "I do not recall you asking for permission to touch me like that."

That got you to stand up and truly look at Sukuna in the eyes. "And if I did ask for permission that day, would you have said no to me?"

He didn't answer, not right away. The river outside seemed to grow louder, overtaking the silence as you waited for a response. And a response he gave, even if it was far from what you had expected him to say.

"No. Not at all."

The words settled over you both, solidifying whatever odd bond was between you.

"Then don't expect an apology from me," you grinned slightly. Sukuna only stared back, a fond look crossing his face. "You won't get one."

"I cannot help but question why you are not afraid."

"I was, actually," you corrected gently. "But that wasn't enough for me to leave you in that state."

"And so you stayed." Sukuna's voice dropped into a quiet murmur. "You covered my ears in that forest when you could have simply left me, and you stayed."

"Of course I did, and I'd do it again. You needed someone back there, Ryo."

Silence.

"And what about now, little witch?"

A dangerously loaded question indeed, but you were not one to shy away from anything that much was clear.

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"I find myself liking your touch more than I should. Why is that?" Sukuna teased one evening. You were sitting with him, legs against his as you stitched up a tear in his pants. You didn't want to answer that — solely because you didn't trust your mouth to say anything rational.

Sukuna let out a whistle of air through his noise out of amusement. "Your silence says more than any words you give me the pleasure of hearing."

"Can you just go back to disliking idle chatter? You talk too much," you huffed, tugging the needle through the fabric and ignoring the heat flooding onto your face.

"Ah, but look who remains seated by my side," Sukuna remarked coyly. He shifted ever so slightly, causing your thigh to rest against his bulky one.

It's just an accident, that's all, you told yourself — but neither of you corrected your direct physical contact. You pulled the thread a tad too strongly, movements faltering because of him. You cursed, adjusting your grip on the needle.

"Careful," Sukuna warned. "You will end up hurting yourself."

"Well, then stop distracting me," you scoffed, shooting a half-hearted glare his way.

"Oh? Am I distracting you?" Sukuna tilted his head to look down at you, all four of his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach twist almost pleasurably. "I am simply sitting still. You are the one shaking, little witch."

"Excuse me? I am not shaking—"

"You most definitely are shaking."

You exhaled shakily, finishing off the last stitch before packing your needle and thread way in the cookie tin you kept them in. "You should stop staring at me like that, then."

"Like how?"

"Like you're a pervert who's about to touch me."

That elicited a throaty chuckle from the former angel next to you, which was the happiest he's ever sounded. "I would not have called it perverse. I thought I was becoming rather acquainted with what you humans call 'intimacy'."

Sukuna's words had your pulse quickening almost drastically. It was difficult to navigate this entire situation with a being as unstable as him, but the thrill was like no other. You dared to glance his way, eyes meeting red.

"Since when did you care about intimacy?"

"Since I met you."

Sukuna leaned back, one arm thrown over the back of your patchwork couch behind you. You willed your mouth to move, finding that it had suddenly run dry. "You sound almost sincere, y'know. I could almost believe that you're not joking."

"When have I ever been one to crack jokes like this around you?"

In your silence, Sukuna pressed on.

"I crave your touch more than I have ever craved the validation of the so-called God that cast me aside like nothing. You quietened the burn in me, little witch, and I find myself reluctant to be anywhere but here."

When you refused to look at him, Sukuna had to take matters into his own hands. He had spent many nights contemplating your dynamic, knowing that you were just what he needed to tether himself to earth. Yes, it was selfish, but Sukuna was also a risk taker — and he'd do anything to prove himself worthy of your affection.

With that, Sukuna removed himself off of his couch and kneeled between your legs. You spluttered, accidentally kicking out of shock. This prompted him to gently grab your foot with a practised softness, two of his four hands kneading at your calf. "You can't possibly be serious—"

"I am. And I intend on showing you my devotion."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Sukuna stayed true to his word.

Curiosity won over, melting with the innate urge to love you the way he deemed fit. Of course there was a more romantic way to go about it, but having his mouth on your cunt was heavenly — pardon my language.

He stayed on his knees as if he was in worship, hands having settled on your waist after dragging you off the very edge of your couch. The springs groaned, inaudible as Sukuna's mouth latched onto your pussy after spreading your lips open with two thick thumbs. His tongue was nothing short of thorough, exploring each and every fold despite inexperience rendering his movements sloppy.

But that was how you liked it — it was raw, sincere. You cried out, one hand bullying its way into Sukuna's hair and tugging as his lips found your clit. "So eager for me already. I must be doing something right."

And he was — languidly sucking your clit into his mouth and grazing it with his sharp teeth. "Oh, God," you keened out, back arching off the couch. Your whines melted into a sharp squeal when Sukuna slapped the side of your thigh.

"Language."

"My bad— ahhh," you choked out, feeling one thick finger slide deep into your cunt. It appeared that Sukuna's nails had retracted, leaving you to writhe and clench around his digits as they explored your gummy walls.

Sukuna hadn't felt a heat like this before, and quite frankly — he was addicted. He was inexperienced when it came to the subject of sex, but gazing down on humanity for as long as he used to had given him enough of an idea of what to do.

Sukuna stood up, hands now gripping your ass as he folded you in half and plunged his tongue in. He loomed over, drinking each and every drop of moisture your pussy had to give him. Your legs twitched, hooking over his shoulders and around his neck to lock him in place. The fallen angel couldn't breathe — but he had never felt so alive in his cursed existence.

"Th-that's so filthy Ryo . . ."

Your voice cracked at the nickname, eyes lidded at the way he parted from you with a wet pwah. Sukuna had pulled back enough, revealing his wet, tattooed chin and glossy strands of your slick connecting his face to your mound.

"Filthy," he mocked, licking a fat stripe up the expanse of your aching pussy. "I am worshipping you, my dear witch — and not even the heavens above can drag me away from you."

He was serious, too, drawing out shrill cries that sounded more divine than any choir he had ever heard. Sukuna was dead set on drawing one orgasm out of you with his tongue first before even beginning to think about his own stirring of his loins.

And that he did — curling his tongue deep within as your first orgasm washed over you. It was so incredibly hot, the way the sensation seemed to clutch at your womb before spreading throughout the rest of your body. Sukuna's mouth didn't stop, not until you were sobbing out weakly from overstimulation. It was only then he set you back down on the couch, casting his eyes down on the prominent tent both cocks had formed.

You noticed too — mustering up enough energy to sit up and tug at the drawstrings.

"Come here," you rasped. "Please."

Sukuna swallowed, nodding as the feeling of instability cascaded over him for the first time in weeks. But when he lowered himself down once more, forehead against yours as he freed both cocks — he felt anchored to you once more. His lips found yours, slow but steady in its movement, and you kissed back.

The sound of your lips on his, smacking and tugging eagerly filled the room, accompanied by a surprised yet pleased moan at the way you could taste yourself on his tongue. "You're shaking, Ryo."

"I know, I know," Sukuna whispered, drawing your lower lip into his mouth. "You have that effect on me, my dear."

His kisses resumed, all whilst a hand tangled in your hair before settling around your throat like a rosary. Sukuna didn't squeeze — he simply let his hand stay there, feeling the way your pulse felt so alive under his hand. He revelled in the way that he was the one making you feel like this.

When he finally pulled off of you with a final kiss to your temple, Sukuna's weeping tip smooched the entrance of where he so desperately wanted to be inside of. It caught against the rim of your hole, popping in ever so slightly before he backed off. It was too much for the man, his hips beginning to move on their own.

"You want this, right? Please tell me you do," he begged through gritted teeth. You clenched around Sukuna, trying your hardest to suck him back into your warmth.

"If you do not fuck me right now, I swear—"

Again, that was all the confirmation Sukuna needed. He only needed to use one cock, the upper one having been jerked off by one of his free hands.

A brief panic flooded you when he pushed in, pussy convulsing as you tried adjusting to his inhuman size. But you could handle it — Sukuna knew you could as his fourth hand travelled down to grope at a breast. He rolled a taut nipple under his palm while you clawed at his bare forearms, relishing in the mild pain before his fingers found your clit. The relief that flooded him was almost unbearable as your mild discomfort ebbed away into growing pleasure.

That was when Sukuna finally let go.

His name left your mouth half garbled as he bottomed out into you, your pussy stretching in ways it never had before.

"F-fuck, Ryo—"

Sukuna had to still, the two of you panting in near unison as you processed the feeling of his blunt head almost kissing against your cervix. Each plump vein adorning his cock had you fluttering around Sukuna, making him drop down and press his forehead to yours once more. His breathing came out ragged, four eyes having squeezed shut as he processed the feeling of being inside someone for the first time.

"You are so-so warm," he uttered. "You feel so alive."

You didn't have a chance to respond, hips bucking as Sukuna withdrew his hips. The dragging pull out of you felt like an eternity before he fucked back inside — making you feel each aching inch that he reserved for you alone. Sukuna watched the way your pussy clung onto him, etching the way it sucked him back into his memory.

Then, he saw the way your eyes threatened to shut on him, a blissed-out look crossing your face as his thrusts grew in tempo. Sukuna rolled your clit between his fingers, making you gasp sharply and come back to reality.

"Eyes on me," he drawled, hips not stopping for even a second. "I want to be the one you look at when— fuck, I make you fall apart on my cock."

You don't know where he had learned to talk like that, but it wasn't like you minded. After all, Sukuna had noticed you get increasingly more wet, making the glide all that more delicious as he rutted into you. The slick sounds of skin meeting skin filled the hut, obscene in all its glory. It felt primal, and Sukuna had truly never felt better.

At one point, Sukuna had lost himself so deep within the throes of pleasure, and his mouth had started to run. "Tell me, I need to hear it," he asked greedily, desperately. "Would you damn yourself for this? For me?"

A laugh left you, shaky and delirious as you nodded. "Yesyesyes, mmh. D-don't stop please," you gasped out, clutching onto Sukuna like he was your lifeline. "Heaven is right here with me, Ryo—"

That was all it took for Sukuna's entire pace to change. He fucked you like a man possessed, driven by the carnal need to mould your pussy to the shape of his thrusts. His upper cock leaked profusely, smearing the bulge in your belly with pearly white.

Heaven, heaven, absolute. Fucking. Heaven.

You had spoken the truth — it was right there with you both. Sukuna buried his flushed face in the crook of your neck, biting down with as much restraint as he could manage and littering your neck with a scattering of marks. "My salvation."

One hand splayed over your stomach, pressing down as you cried out for the nth time. Orgasms had bled into each other, until your nails had raked down the healed scars on Sukuna's back. It was that sensation alone that elicited a full body shudder from the former angel.

A warmth filled you up from the inside, your vision blacking out as you came alongside Sukuna. He stayed buried deep, having slotted his lips against yours but not moving. You were cocooned within his safe arms, your head cradled in one of his hands. You both twitched against each other, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm and taking in the way Sukuna's cock continued to leak steady roped of cum.

Neither of you moved right away either. Sukuna stayed where he was, half kneeling and half slumped over you.

Then he slid out of you, gently hushing you when you grimaced at the floods of cum that seeped out of your hole and leaked into the couch. Well, it was due time for it to be replaced anyway.

Despite having pulled out, Sukuna didn't stray too far away from you — taking a long moment to catch his breath with you seated firmly on his lap. Aftercare was a concept foreign to him, but he'd figure something out — somehow.

"You're very . . . quiet right now," you mumbled hoarsely, prodding fun at the man.

He did that thing again instead of laughing outright — exhaling through his nostrils in fond amusement. "I am listening to your heartbeat, my dear witch. Do not interrupt me now."

You grabbed one of his hands, placing it atop of your bare chest and letting him feel your pulse properly.

"Like this," you coaxed, looking up at him. The river outside continued to ebb and flow, the water curling against the riverbank the way your fingers did around Sukuna's tattooed wrist. He closed his eyes and hummed, relishing in calm after the storm.

For the very first time since his fall, Sukuna felt no pain in the silence that followed.

He had finally found salvation.